The RIP

The reunion of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck carries a weight that few contemporary duos can claim, and The Rip understands from the very first frames how to capitalize on that legacy. Rather than relying solely on nostalgia, director and co-writer Joe Carnahan crafts a tense and morally complex thriller that feels grounded in the reality of police work and human frailty. Set against the backdrop of Miami, bathed in unhealthy neon lights and ominous shadows, the film avoids the slick style characteristic of Netflix and instead opts for something closer to the realistic police dramas of the early 2000s, where characters took precedence over spectacle. The presence of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck lends the story immediate credibility, as if decades of shared cinematic history silently underpin every exchange between their characters.

Joe Carnahan's direction is surprisingly disciplined, favoring claustrophobic interiors and long, bubbling dialogues over the pyrotechnics usually associated with his name. Inspired by real events reported by Michael McGrale, the script traps a tactical narcotics team in a modest suburban home where a routine seizure degenerates into a psychological standoff. The decision to confine much of the narrative to this single location proves inspired, allowing suspicion to grow naturally among the agents rather than being imposed by external plot devices. Juan Miguel Azpiroz's cinematography transforms ordinary spaces into pressure chambers, and Clinton Shorter's grave and unsettling music resonates beneath the action like a generator on the verge of failure.

At the heart of the storm, Ben Affleck delivers one of his most controlled performances in years as JD Byrne, a police officer whose anger barely conceals grief and wounded pride. Opposite him, Matt Damon plays Dane Dumars with a hollow weariness that suggests a man already halfway through his own life. Their scenes together form the emotional backbone of the film, exploring how loyalty erodes when temptation takes the form of a sum of money. The chemistry between them never seems artificial; it resembles the complex bonds between men who have shared too many nights and too many secrets, and the film wisely lets this story do most of the dramatic work.

The supporting roles reinforce the illusion of a lived-in world. Steven Yeun brings a nervous ambiguity that keeps the audience perpetually off-balance, while Teyana Taylor and Catalina Sandino Moreno ground the story in reality with performances that reject easy stereotypes about female officers. Sasha Calle, as the anxious resident of the safe house, becomes an unpredictable catalyst, her mixture of fear and calculation adding another layer of uncertainty. Even in more brief appearances, Kyle Chandler and Scott Adkins make an impression, proof of Joe Carnahan's talent for choosing actors capable of suggesting entire biographies in just a few lines.

Thematically, the film operates in a gray area that resists simple police propaganda. Issues of overtime, medical debt, and institutional indifference hang over every decision, making the appeal of the millions uncovered troubling. Joe Carnahan doesn't preach, but he lets the contradictions of law enforcement show through behavior rather than speech. The title itself becomes a metaphor not only for the seizure of money, but also for the tearing of the moral fabric, and the film is at its best when it lets this metaphor breathe without explanation.

The final act relies more on conventional action mechanisms, and the need to unravel every mystery slightly diminishes the initial ambiguity. Some revelations are accompanied by more detailed explanations than necessary, as if the film suddenly doubted the intelligence it had previously accorded the audience. Yet even in these moments, the direction remains solid and the actors continue to play the emotion card rather than the procedure card. A confrontation inside an armored vehicle, in particular, is one of the most electrifying sequences Joe Carnahan has directed in years.

What ultimately sets The Rip apart is its refusal to treat corruption as an abstract enemy. Instead, it presents it as a slow, almost reasonable drift, the kind that starts with a single rationalization and ends with a gun pointed at a friend's face. By the end of the film, it has earned its cynicism without succumbing entirely to despair, leaving behind the uncomfortable feeling that anyone placed in the same room with that much money might discover a stranger in the mirror. It's a tough, smart thriller that respects the tradition from which it springs while forging its own bruised identity.

The Rip
Written and directed by Joe Carnahan
Story by Joe Carnahan, Michael McGrale
Produced by Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, Dani Bernfeld, Luciana Damon
Starring Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, Steven Yeun, Teyana Taylor, Sasha Calle, Catalina Sandino Moreno, Scott Adkins, Kyle Chandler
Cinematography: Juan Miguel Azpiroz
Edited by Kevin Hale
Music by Clinton Shorter
Production company: Artists Equity
Distributed by Netflix
Release date: January 16, 2026
Running time: 115 minutes

Seen on January 16, 2026 on Netflix

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