If there were a movie iceberg, this film would be the tip of a navigational hazard, barely visible above the surface while the bulk lurks deep below—filled with clichés, awkward dialogue, and action that makes you question if the director thought it was possible to film a spy movie without any visible budget. But hey, at least Kate Beckinsale got a chance to polish her "I'm a badass" aesthetic, right?
The Plot: High-Stakes Espionage? More Like Low-Stakes Absurdity
As someone who loves action movies—especially spy thrillers that deliver a punch or two—this film managed to deliver a head-scratching question: "Did I accidentally switch to a 2002 straight-to-DVD movie?" I mean, who would have thought high-stakes espionage could be boiled down to a poorly scripted plot and some questionable undercover outfits?
Our star, the ever-fabulous Kate Beckinsale, plays Avery Graves—a CIA agent who, for reasons unknown to anyone with taste, decides to take on a thrill-a-minute mission involving a "doomsday virus" (because why not? The world is running out of ways to make viruses interesting). The plot kicks off with her stealing a drive in Tokyo before heading home to celebrate her anniversary like any competent spy: poorly communicating basic information and flaunting her fashion faux pas—the ever-dreaded high-heeled boots. Because truly, what better footwear for grasping the essence of danger and intrigue is there than stilettos?
The Comedy of Action: Slapstick Gone Wrong
I mean, really, watching her clomp around those heels while leaping from rooftops was like witnessing a flamingo trying to perform martial arts—it exists, but does anyone actually want to see it? The fight scenes put me in stitches, not because they were well-choreographed, but because it felt like a slapstick comedy routine gone wrong. By the time Kate bends physics and logic to deliver her spatial ballet acts in those heels, I half-expect the next scene to feature her somersaulting through a dozen laser beams like a cat burglar with questionable footwear choices. People do indeed break ankles in real life!
The Waste of Talent: Rupert Friend Edition
Rupert Friend, who was my personal favorite as the brooding Peter Quinn in "Homeland," has tragically been reduced to a supporting role that barely scratches the surface of his acting potential. He feels wasted in this flick, mainly because he’s in it for a solid five minutes of screen time before disappearing faster than my will to watch the sequel—that's right, folks, they're teasing a sequel! No! More desperate cinema!
The Climax: A Misguided Attempt at Suspense
The real kicker? The climax was perfect for rolling my eyes so hard I could see my brain. It sets up a sequel that I'm praying the universe will veto before it starts. I mean, after an hour and a half of intense plot twists and character arcs that feel flatter than the paper on which they were printed, who wouldn't want to see a follow-up? (Not me, everyone involved with this movie, please consider pulling the plug on that idea.)
The Conclusion: A Saving Grace? More Like a Wake-Up Call
At the end of the day, "Canary Black" offers everything you’d expect from a subpar action movie, minus the enjoyment. I was left inspired—not to watch the sequel but instead to remember the glory days of "Underworld." Like a bad dream about a malfunctioning film projector, it reminds me of how I wished I had opted for a nice two-hour nap instead.
Final Thoughts: Choose Wisely
So take my advice, fellow film lovers: unless you’re looking for comedic gold in unintentional comedy or a thrilling counting game of how many times someone trips in heels, find another way to spend your time. No need for more bad sequels. The world, much like Kate’s character's finesse in those aforementioned high heels, is in desperate need of saving from this sequel-clad apocalypse.
