Domino (2019)

Domino is worth a look for the simple pleasure of watching Brian De Palma still think in pure cinema: gliding cameras, sharp angles, and set pieces staged with the kind of spatial clarity that turns a chase or a standoff into a small, nerve-tight ballet. Set against a chilly European backdrop, it plays like a lean, anxious cat-and-mouse thriller where the real suspense isn’t just who gets caught, but who’s being used—and Guy Pearce brings a slick, insinuating edge to that moral rot. Nikolaj Coster-Waldau anchors the film with a bruised determination that keeps the story human even as it widens into geopolitics and spectacle. It’s not a flawless comeback and the material can feel uneven, but if you miss De Palma’s visual swagger and can handle its brutal violence, the movie delivers flashes of the old master that are hard to ignore.

Domino wants to be a gritty, globe-trotting cat-and-mouse thriller about grief, vengeance, and the morally murky games intelligence agencies play. The problem is it often feels like a rough draft of that movie: thinly sketched characters, choppy pacing, and storytelling that gets muddled just when it should be tightening the screws. De Palma drops in a few stylish flourishes and the cast does what it can, but the whole thing has an undercooked, compromised vibe that makes the big stakes feel oddly weightless. If you’re here for a sharp, coherent crime thriller or nuanced terrorism politics, you’ll likely be frustrated; if you can tolerate clunkiness for occasional tension and a couple of memorable set-pieces, it may just scrape by.