Mercy

The irony of building your own gallows is a classic literary trope, but in Mercy, director Timur Bekmambetov gives it a terrifying, silicon-chip upgrade. We meet Chris Raven, played by a noticeably weathered Chris Pratt, at the exact moment his life’s work turns its cold, calculating gaze upon him. Raven is a detective who spent years championing the implementation of "Maddox," an advanced AI judge designed to eliminate human bias from the legal system. Then, his wife is murdered, he’s the prime suspect, and he has exactly ninety minutes to convince the machine he helped build that he isn't a killer. I watched this while eating a bowl of cereal that had gone slightly soggy because I forgot to start the movie before pouring the milk—a fittingly depressing start for a film this grim.

The Architect in the Crosshairs

The film’s greatest strength is its claustrophobic, ticking-clock structure. We’ve seen Chris Pratt play the charming rogue in Guardians of the Galaxy (2014) and the rugged hero in Jurassic World (2015), but here he’s something different: a man being slowly crushed by his own arrogance. He’s sweaty, desperate, and remarkably unlikable for the first twenty minutes. Honestly, Chris Pratt is actually better when he isn't trying to be the guy you want to grab a beer with. He plays Raven as a man who believed so much in "the system" that he forgot what happens to the people caught in its cogs.

Standing in sharp contrast is Rebecca Ferguson as the voice and avatar of Judge Maddox. Ferguson (so brilliant in Dune and Silo) delivers a performance that is chillingly detached. She isn’t playing a "vile AI" in the vein of HAL 9000; she’s playing a mirror. She reflects Raven’s own logic back at him, using his past words and convictions to dismantle his current defense. The chemistry between them is fascinating because it’s entirely one-sided; Raven is fighting for his life, while Maddox is simply processing data.

A Clinical Kind of Chaos

Timur Bekmambetov is a director usually known for the physics-defying "curving bullets" of Wanted (2008) or the frantic "Screenlife" format he pioneered with Unfriended (2014). In Mercy, he shows a surprising amount of restraint. Working with cinematographer Khalid Mohtaseb, he creates a near-future that feels uncomfortably close—lots of harsh blue light, sterile glass, and a sense that privacy has become a relic of the past. The action, when it does erupt, feels heavy and desperate rather than choreographed. There’s a frantic energy to the shootouts that reminded me more of a panicked animal trapped in a cage than a slick Hollywood thriller.

The supporting cast helps ground the high-concept premise. Kali Reis, who recently commanded the screen in True Detective: Night Country, plays Jacqueline 'Jaq' Diallo, a character who serves as the film’s moral compass (and a reminder of the human cost Raven ignored). Chris Sullivan also turns in a solid, albeit brief, performance as Rob Nelson, adding a layer of grit to the proceedings. However, the film occasionally stumbles under the weight of its own cynicism. It’s so determined to show us the "dark side" of technology that it sometimes forgets to give us a reason to hope for Raven’s survival.

Why Did This Slip Through the Cracks?

Looking back at the 2026 release calendar, it’s easy to see why Mercy didn’t set the box office on fire, barely clawing back $54 million against its $60 million budget. The film’s marketing made it look like John Wick with a laptop, which was a massive disservice to what is essentially a courtroom drama on steroids. It was also released right in the middle of a massive real-world cultural debate about AI integration in the workplace, and for many, the film’s "guilty until proven innocent" vibe was just a little too close to home for a weekend at the multiplex.

There’s also the "Amazon MGM" factor—the film felt like it was caught in that weird limbo between a prestige theatrical release and a "straight to streaming" filler. It’s a shame, because the practical stunt work in the final act is genuinely impressive. Apparently, the production utilized a specialized "real-time rendering" volume for the AI interface rooms, but Timur Bekmambetov insisted on actual pyrotechnics for the precinct siege, which gives the violence a tangible, bone-shaking weight that CGI just can't replicate.

While Mercy might not be the "instant classic" the studio hoped for, it’s a fascinating snapshot of our current anxieties. It’s a cold, hard look at what happens when we outsource our morality to an algorithm. The 90-minute runtime is lean and mean, avoiding the bloat that plagues so many modern thrillers. If you can handle a film that refuses to hold your hand or offer easy comfort, it’s well worth a look. Just make sure you eat your cereal before you hit play—once the clock starts, you won't want to look away.