The Rhythm Section

In a make-or-break moment in The Rhythm Section, we watch a battered Blake Lively strip down to her underwear, with her bruised body and splintered spirit on full display, as she shakily wades into ice-cold Scottish waters. A stunning overhead shot looms as she painstakingly swims across the near-freezing lake in order to appease the hellish demands of her assassin-making mentor and prove to herself that she’s got what it takes. It’s a feat that feels a little bit contrived and far too merciless given her newly sober circumstances, but it is nonetheless transformative and resolute. This, my friends, is the ethos of the film — or, at least, that’s what it aims to be.

Lively stars as Stephanie Patrick, a mourning, fully self-destructing British woman who’s on the brink of total collapse. Drowning in the aftermath of her family’s tragic plane-crash death (a flight she was supposed to be on but failed to make), the guilt has all but consumed her. Hazy flashbacks of her once cozy, jovial family life flicker on screen in a sharp juxtaposition with her current dire situation. She has taken on a new persona — that of a heroin-addicted prostitute named Lisa — resigning to live a life as devastating and ruinous as her grief. When she learns from a rogue journalist that her family’s demise was not accidental and was indeed part of a larger terrorist plot, she transforms from broken to badass — kind of.

Lively’s Stephanie is smeared in every possible way, shattered through and through, with no discernible trace of makeup, grooming or vanity in sight. She sports a myriad of so-bad-they’re-good wigs and disheveled, asexual clothing throughout the film in such a noticeable way that it paints the typically polished, glowing Lively in an entirely new (deeply dark) light. The willingness not only to commit to Stephanie’s “ugliness,” but to focus on its jarring unfamiliarity is commendable given that Lively and cinematographer-turned-director Reed Morano (“The Handmaid’s Tale”) could have easily gone for a “dejected but still pretty” cop-out.

Instead, Stephanie’s every flaw (and Lively’s, by extension) is exposed and lingered upon in a way that grounds her character in a harsh reality that we’ve rarely, if ever, seen in female-driven films — and certainly not from this actress. Lively is giving everything in this performance, both emotionally and physically, and it’s perhaps her best dramatic work (besides her deliciously wicked portrayal of Emily in A Simple Favor). Unfortunately, it isn’t quite enough to fully rescue this somewhat clumsy and confusing plot.

The Rhythm Section aims to examine the futility of revenge and the consequences of violence in a fresh, interesting way — by giving an often too slick, über powerful, man-centric genre a gritty, complicated, determined female face — but it does so too unevenly to do justice to its mission. ‪The script from Mark Burnell (adapting his novel by the same name) is noticeably disjointed, often introducing curious character traits and plot devices that are either never explained or tritely woven into the narrative in a way that feels almost laughable. I found myself asking: What’s that about her being an Oxford scholar? Why exactly did she never get on the flight with her family? Why can’t she contact the authorities about this new information she’s received? Did she have no one else in her life besides her family to help support her after their deaths?

‪I suspect the screenplay would have been much more effective if it were presented through the lens of a limited TV series. The time constraints of a feature film do much to work against this narrative, as it prevents the filmmakers from adequately exploring the complex backstory of its protagonist and her motivations. Instead, the 105-minute run time quickly oscillates between character extremes (Stephanie spirals from blissful British family girl to drug-addicted prostitute in an inexplicably short time span) and heart-pounding action sequences, leaving precious few moments to ruminate on the larger motivation of the story.

The film’s title pays special attention to rhythm — it functions as a facet of its characters’ reliance on steady breathing under pressure — but ironically enough, the rhythm is the largest issue here. The pacing is problematic, with a large chunk of the first half feeling like a series of slow, wordless flashbacks, claustrophobic close-ups and mumbled character motivations. Thankfully, though, at the midway point the movie picks up enough speed to maintain interest. Specifically, there’s a fantastic one-shot car chase in Tangier that’s a clear standout scene and mirrors automotive getaways of other legitimate spy thrillers.

It’s worth noting that the cinematography from Sean Babbitt and soundtrack composed by Steve Mazzaro do much to make the film feel rich and complex, and seamlessly assist Lively and Morano in conveying Stephanie’s complicated journey. The soundtrack is particularly evocative, with jams from The Mamas & The Papas, Elvis Presley, The Velvet Underground and Depeche Mode cueing crucial turning points in Stephanie’s topsy-turvy mindset. Brenda Lee’s “I’m Sorry” and Sleigh Bells’ “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” are two especially laudable song choices that perfectly match scene to motivation and make important moments in the film that much more memorable.

Stephanie seems to exist somewhere deep inside her trauma, all but entirely closed off from her fellow characters and audiences alike (I was hard-pressed to find any human connection she makes in the film firmly believable). Her tense, exciting sparring with former MI6 operative-turned-trainer B (played with fiercely good intensity by Jude Law) is as close to any onscreen chemistry as we’re given, and to that end, there’s not nearly enough of it. Lively’s attempts to connect with Sterling K. Brown’s ex-CIA agent Mark Serra are noted but not necessarily noteworthy.

If the film aims to become an anti-James Bond spy series mirroring the books it’s based on, it would have benefited greatly from curbing Stephanie’s entire character transformation in its initial introduction and left much of the action to later films. Instead, the screenplay seems to suffer from a lack of confidence, as it stuffs its storyline with every plot point and character arc imaginable, which in turn dilutes their individual importance. The end of the film had me questioning just what exactly is left to explore in Stephanie’s story and puzzled at the thought of a sequel (though I will admit that I do remain mildly intrigued).

‪When you boil it down, The Rhythm Section feels like a well-directed, well-acted and well-scored piece of jumbled revenge porn. It’s mysterious and thrilling in many scenes, with Lively giving her absolute all, but the convoluted plot and uneven pace unfortunately overshadow the film’s gritty mission.