Red Sparrow

The anticipated Russian thriller reuniting Jennifer Lawrence with director Francis Lawrence (no relation) was bumped from the primo Oscar release timeframe of late November to early March, which always creates a bit of apprehension about the studio confidence. Lawrence has been out of the spotlight recently, appearing in last October’s “Mother!” which drew critical ire, but I actually really enjoyed the allegory, as abstract as it was.

Lawrence plays Domenica, a young ballerina who is forced into a deep cover spy program when a leg injury shatters her career. The program quickly transforms her into a “sparrow” or a vamp who uses sexuality to gain trust and information. She forms a bond with CIA operative Nate Nash (Joel Edgerton), but there is very little cat-and-mouse as they simply don’t have any chemistry and there is absolutely no mystery or intrigue to their relationship. As she falls deeper in the spy game rabbit hole, the danger becomes real and it isn’t until the lackluster final scene that we truly understand her real motives.

I was a bit stunned by the blatantly sexualized characterization of one of Hollywood’s hottest young starlets with an already impressive resume under her belt. At this point in her career, she has her pick of projects, so this one seemed a bit counter-intuitive. There is a confused message of feminism and male domination rolled up in a cliché ball of pretentious wannabe sophistication. It is cliché, it is not sophisticated.

The story fumbles with a couple of severely neglected plot points, and predictable linear progression while taking far too long. By the time the inevitable twist arrives, the audience is far too bored to appreciate the attempt at cinematic novelty. Simply put, the story is weak and lacks originality.

It lacks the punch of last year’s “Atomic Blonde” while trying desperately to land the tone of 2007’s fantastic “Eastern Promises.” There is certainly a whiff of “Basic Instinct” not just in the shocking gratuitous nudity, but in the early 90’s quality of filmmaking. That’s not to say there’s anything terribly offensive about the direction or cinematography, but the film could have done much, much better (as could have J-Law).

The one bright spot for me was Joel Edgerton’s Nate Nash. The character lacks any depth, but his attitude and carefree demeanor somehow works. He’s cool, confident, and plays a spy far more effectively than Lawrence’s Domenica, which is disappointing. The supporting characters played by Matthias Schoenaerts, Charlotte Rampling, Ciaran Hinds, and Jeremy Irons are all emotionless and, well, Russian, but there is nothing that stands out by any of their performances, which is a surprising shame since they are all very accomplished actors.

Amidst the Russian collusion hype and nuclear armament, the idea of espionage with our Cold War rival has an eerie verisimilitude, but this particular story lacks any teeth. There is no reason to care about the characters or the events, and for that I fault the screenwriter, Justin Haythe (“Revolutionary Road,” “The Lone Ranger”). Francis Lawrence is to blame for allowing the film to degenerate to the extent it did, but I imagine that it seemed like a good idea at the time.

With an A-list star on full display (literally), I expected more (and less) out of Jennifer Lawrence. She is talented and attractive, but her Russian accent leaves much to be desired. The film is colder than Siberia, and is simply not enjoyable, even if you try. 4/10.