In the film Havoc, a sweet and concerned wife consoles her grief and anxiety with Detective Walker (played by Tom Hardy). The moment should communicate the painstaking loss happening around the police department as the grieving wife watches her husband fight for his life in a hospital bed. A short while later, a criminal walks into the same hospital room and sprays a flurry of bullets at both the dying husband and the wife beside the hospital bed; the viewer watches their bodies fill with holes in gruesome detail as perfectly innocent people get viciously mangled by bullets.
The sequence is how Havoc feels in a nutshell. To say the latest Gareth Evans movie is a mean-spirited action film is an understatement. His action movies are typically hyperviolent. However, Havoc reveals a noticeable decline in remorse for his characters. The approach begs the question: If Evans does not care about the fictional characters he writes about, how can we?
What is Netflix’s Havoc about?
The film centers on Detective Walker (Tom Hardy), who investigates the murders of Triad drug dealers, including a reputable Triad member named Tsui (Jeremy Ang Jones). Our first introductions to Walker are as salty as the film itself. He exhibits a disgruntled bedside manner and is unpleasant to his new partner, Ellie (Jessie Mei Li), for no reason. The film hints that Walker can replay what transpired at a crime scene by walking into the space—a trope we have seen a thousand times recently.
His Benedict Cumberbatch visions make Walker aware that Charlie (Justin Cornwell), the son of a politician named Lawrence Beaumont (Forest Whitaker), was in the room with his girlfriend Mia (Quelin Sepulveda) when it happened. Whitaker, as Lawrence, exudes a grand sense of swagger, but the corruption reeks all over him. Due to the history between them, Walker owes a debt to Beaumont and agrees to relieve Walker from any burden if he tracks down his son and prevents him from being killed. The only setback for Walker is that everyone wants to kill Charlie and Mia, including law enforcement.
Adding to the roster of vengeful figures out for blood is Tsui’s Mother (Yeo Yann Yann), who walks through the film wearing a silent rage on her exterior. There is not much for the viewer to latch onto except that she is an angry mother. Then there is Vincent, played by the always incredible Timothy Olyphant, who portrays a filthy cop with his own agenda.
This film is a joyless and bloody spectacle
Throughout Evans’ latest film, the action unfolds with more noise than before. For instance, when vicious fights begin, the camera unnecessarily shakes like an earthquake is unfolding while filming. While Evans has used the shaky effect in the past, in this film, Evans employs the style excessively. Here, it feels like a director leaning on the style too much because the action cannot alone satisfy.
It might sound redundant to critique an action movie for its violence, but with Havoc, it feels like watching a player using Grand Theft Auto to relieve some anger. Sure, turning on the game and inflicting video game violence on NPCs is fun for the player, but for anyone else watching, the empty cruelty eventually becomes tedious. Characters die in ruthless ways and sometimes in brutal fashion. As stated at the beginning, a grieving wife riddled with bullets for no purpose feels like nothing other than shock value.
To make a comparison, John Wick: Chapter 4 arguably uses more guns and may have a higher body count than Havoc. Yet, the fourth entry has a soft spot for its characters that audiences feel throughout the action. For instance, Hiroyuki Sanada (Shogun) plays a key role as Shimazu, a defender of John Wick who gives his life for the cause. While doing so, the film offers Shimazu an empathetic showdown before Donnie Yen’s Caine ultimately ends his life. In contrast, the action in Havoc is void of empathy and almost treats the form like a slasher film, with the set pieces supplying all the victims. As a fan of Evans’ early work, like The Raid, the aggressive approach is disappointing.
A crowded screenplay by Gareth Evans.
Adding to the brutality of its violence is the overstuffed nature of the script. The film has to juggle the motivations of the Triads, law enforcement, Beaumont and his political agenda, Vincent and his merry band of corrupt lawmen, and Charlie and Mia’s arc, all before we circle back to the centerpiece character of Walker. With a runtime of around 100 minutes, there is little room for the audience to connect with any character, which speaks volumes for a movie devoid of remorse for its characters.
As Havoc approaches the climax, the stakes feel nonexistent because we have no investment. Characters are stabbed, shot, and brutally beaten, and there is almost no reason to care. Hardy’s role as Walker has a child, but the film neglects to explore the relationship, especially through meaningful conversations with other characters. In contrast, Donnie Yen’s portrayal of Caine in John Wick: Chapter 4 effectively illustrates his strained relationship with his daughter. The film impressively communicates the distance throughout the character’s subtext and through nuanced conversations with friends and enemies. For this reason, although the movie never shows Caine’s relationship with his daughter on screen, the subtle details in dialogue and character development allow us to empathize with Caine.
Overall, Havoc is a disappointing action movie from one of the best filmmakers in the genre. While there’s a standout fight scene in a club, the overall action sequences fail to generate excitement. The Raid remains a masterpiece because it has a simple story and intoxicating fight choreography, and builds character and narrative around the action. These achievements are absent in Havoc, which is unfortunate considering the talent behind the film. Nevertheless, this reviewer remains optimistic about whatever Evans decides to produce next.
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