Bull (2021)

Bull is the kind of lean, mean British revenge thriller that grabs you by the collar and never lets go, driven by Neil Maskell’s ferocious, almost mythic screen presence—less a man than a force of nature stalking familiar streets with cold purpose. Paul Andrew Williams directs with brutal confidence, keeping the pacing tight and the atmosphere grimly electric, while flashes of pitch-black humor and sharp character work give the carnage a nasty, human edge. It’s violent in a way that feels tactile and unapologetic, but also strangely controlled, like every blow is part of a larger, dread-filled rhythm. If you’re squeamish or looking for sympathetic heroes, this won’t be your night at the movies—but if you want a hard-hitting, expertly made thriller that leaves a bruise, Bull delivers.

Bull is aiming for a lean, nasty British revenge thriller, built around Neil Maskell’s dead-eyed intensity and a sense of inevitability as bodies stack up. The problem is it often feels less like a gripping descent and more like a grim checklist of punishments, with characters so uniformly vile that you may stop caring who “wins” long before the credits. It’s also relentlessly dour and graphically violent, so if you’re not in the mood for cruelty presented with very little relief, this will feel like a chore. There are flashes of muscular direction and a strong central performance, but if you want a smart, surprising crime story rather than a bleak endurance test, you’re better off elsewhere.