Spycraft Lite: "The Amateur" (2025) Can it Keep Up with Bourne or Bond??

When his supervisors at the CIA refuse to take action after his wife is killed in a London terrorist attack, a decoder takes matters into his own hands.

https://youtu.be/351dffdsA7A

I rolled into the cinema for The Amateur expecting a refined martini of espionage intrigue, but what I got was more like a lukewarm Tonic—serviceable, but not something you’ll brag about later. The premise is straight out of a ’70s spy novel: Rami Malek’s mild-mannered CIA decoder wakes to the devastating news that his wife has been killed in a London terrorist attack. When his desk-bound supervisors shrug and pass the buck, our amateur code‑cracker morphs into a one‑man rogue agent, and the carnage commences.

The plot is gloriously simple: you kill my wife, I kill your infrastructure—no philosophical detours, no messy moral quandaries, just bullet‑riddled payback. Watching Malek pivot from gaunt keyboard jockey to grim‑eyed avenger is admittedly fun—he sells every beat with nothing more than a twitch of an eyebrow or the subtlest quiver in his mouth. Rachel Brosnahan pops up as the chip‑on‑her‑shoulder analyst who reluctantly aids him, Jon Bernthal grunts through a handful of muscle‑for‑hire moments, and Laurence Fishburne swaggers in as the grizzled spymaster who knows how to say “Patriot Act” without needing a teleprompter. It’s a heavyweight cast you can’t argue with.

There are some genuinely vicious death scenes here, so consider this your fair warning: if you’re squeamish, maybe avoid the popcorn bucket splash zone. Heads snap, skulls shatter, and Malek’s journey into bloodlust territory is shot with enough shocking deaths that you might question if you accidentally wandered into a snuff‑action hybrid. But if your movie night requires the visceral satisfaction of watching a bad guy get his comeuppance, director Phillip Noyce (a veteran of James Bond’s darker outings) delivers with glee, right up to the finale, but there's a catch.

As a fan of intricate spycraft, I appreciated the mission sequences—bugging embassy servers, tailing suspects through rain‑slick London streets, and the kind of digital infiltration that gives hackers wet dreams. In spots, I felt the spirit of The Bourne Identity hovering in the shadows: furtive hand‑to‑hand scraps, frantic surveillance chases, an amnesiac’s fight for survival… okay, scratch the amnesia, but the agency tracking and the feeling of being hunted ring familiar. If only Noyce had amped up the volume—Bourne had the kinetic punch of a jackhammer; The Amateur feels more like a polite tap on the shoulder.

If you’re here for nuance, you’ll find it in Malek’s expressive performance—he can sell a scene with just his eyes. There’s a moment early on where he’s staring at his wife’s shattered wedding ring and you feel every millisecond of his heartbreak. That’s Oscar‑bait stuff. But talk is cheap when the script doesn’t back it up: you’ll spend half the movie waiting for a big emotional turn that never arrives.

Which brings me to my biggest gripe: pacing. This film cruises at the speed of a diplomatic cable and never touches down for takeoff. You get a dribble of tension, then a lull, then a little skirmish, then another lull. There’s no roller‑coaster arc, just a tilt‑a‑whirl that never tilts sharply enough to exhilarate. The finale, built up like a ticking time bomb, deflates like a sad party balloon—no crescendo, no satisfying climax, just a “Well, that happened” shrug.

And the ending? It lands like a lead balloon. One minute you’re primed for the mother of all showdowns, the next you’re watching Malek walk away in silhouette as the credits roll. If I wanted ambiguity, I’d re‑read the United Nations charter. Hollywood will no doubt sniff at the notion, but The Amateur feels tailor‑made for a limited series. Give each mission its own hour—flesh out the targets, deepen the betrayals, and let Malek’s transformation from nerd to ninja feel earned rather than rushed. As it stands, the movie’s too eager to button up in two hours, sacrificing depth for a neat bow and we get a Scooby-doo or Star Trek series ending where our heroes are saved in the final 5 mins of the show.

Speaking of Hollywood machinations, let’s talk trivia. Filming ground to a halt in July 2023 thanks to the SAG‑AFTRA strike—fun fact, our hero’s vapor‑ware prosthetics didn’t resume until December. Malek’s casting feels like a meta‑nod to his turn as Safin in No Time to Die (2021); producers clearly figured, “If he can chill Craig’s spine, he can hack CIA mainframes.” And yes, this remake drops roughly 44 years after the 1981 original. Back in 2006, Hugh Jackman was once eyed for the role, with his production outfit even green‑lit to give the Cold War a post‑9/11 makeover. Instead, we wound up with a world where terrorists replace the Eastern Bloc, and Rami Malek replaces Wolverine.

All told, I’m saddling The Amateur with a 6.7/10, and trust me, I’m being very gracious.