One can only hope Tom Hardy has a serious talk with his agent after this. Havoc on Netflix is one long, blood-soaked slog, where even the best actors have to wade through a script so thin it makes you want to call for a grown-up.
One star
Two stars
Three stars
Four stars
Five stars
Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
It begins the way these things always begin: rain, dark streets, a grumpy Hardy who already looks exhausted before anything has even gone wrong. And then it all blows up into one long parade of fistfights, with blood spraying as if people lose two litres the moment you step on their toes.
Gareth Evans (The Raid) is clearly trying to recreate the magic of his earlier films, but instead ends up with something that feels like Die Hard on a very bad day. The camera shakes, bones snap, and Hardy fights bravely — but the whole thing feels chaotic and thrown together, like an action film made because a holiday got cancelled and someone stocked the set with a cheap duty-free bar.
The problem is not just that the film is excessive. It’s that it never becomes awesome.
It feels like a mechanical bloodbath without a soul, where every scene is a little too much and a little too pointless. Tom Hardy does what he can, and he’s actually backed by a decent cast, but when the dialogue sounds like it’s been pulled from a YouTube generator, that only helps so much.
And then the thought creeps in: are we watching Tom Hardy turn into some kind of Temu version of Bruce Willis? A shadow of himself, willing to take anything as long as there’s food on the table and a trailer on set? You want to shout: Stop, Tom! You’re better than this!
Let’s put it like this:
Havoc is one giant mess. Breathless, yes. Bloody, yes. Entertaining? Only if you enjoy the idea of watching talented people trudge through dreadful material.
