The Amateur – You know when a movie almost hits every single note just right? That’s The Amateur. I went in expecting a decent spy flick and ended up inside a cinematic symphony—equal parts thriller, heartbreaker, and visual poetry. The settings are jaw-dropping, the pacing is razor-sharp, and the hero? Let’s just say he’s not your typical ex-CIA with a grudge. He’s messy. He’s driven. He’s believable. And you’re with him every brutal, breathless step.
What makes it sing is the crew behind the curtain. Composer Volker Bertelmann—who gave All Quiet on the Western Front its haunting pulse—returns with a score that wraps around the story like a heartbeat. It never misses. That rhythm? That flow? Thank editor Jonathan Amos. (He cut Baby Driver, one of my favorite films ever, so I should’ve known I was in for something special.) Every scene is stitched together with such rhythm and beauty, you’re not watching The Amateur—you’re living in it.
Now, not everything lands. A few plot twists feel a little too written, like they’re there to keep the stakes high rather than to grow naturally from the story. And while the emotional beats hit hard, the dialogue can occasionally veer into overwrought territory—less “real human grief,” more “Oscar reel audition.” There are also a couple of action sequences that don’t quite match the film’s otherwise impeccable polish. One or two feel like they were shot on a Tuesday before lunch.
Director James Hawes, a Brit best known for Black Mirror and Slow Horses, proves that second-time directors can swing for the fences. He’s not trying to be the smartest guy in the room—he hires the best and lets them shine. And it shows. Every actor, every frame, every beat feels like part of something crafted, not just shot.
Rami Malek stars and produces, and it’s one of his finest performances yet. Yes, even better than Freddie Mercury. His character—a man gutted by grief and fueled by revenge—doesn’t feel like a Hollywood archetype. He feels like someone who could live down the block. You feel the rage. The sorrow. The utter helplessness turned deadly focus. Malek, who won the Oscar for Bohemian Rhapsody and the Emmy for Mr. Robot, is also behind the camera here, helping produce and even touching the soundtrack. He doesn’t just act—he builds worlds.
The supporting cast is stacked: Maisel’s Rachel Brosnahan, the iconic Laurence Fishburne, Outlander’s Caitriona Balfe (yes, she was discovered in a shopping mall), plus Julianne Nicholson and Michael Stuhlbarg. Every one of them gives you something different—quiet grief, moral conflict, a sliver of warmth in a cold, calculated world. Though with this many A-listers, not everyone gets the screen time they deserve. Brosnahan in particular feels slightly underused.
But here’s what really stayed with me: The Amateur doesn’t treat tragedy like a plot device. When Malek’s character loses everything, the film lets you feel it. It doesn’t gloss over the loss. It honors it. That ache stays with you, threading through every choice he makes and elevating this from just another revenge movie to something truly artful.
In short? The Amateur isn’t perfect. But it’s ambitious, beautifully made, and bursting with emotion and style. I’ll be watching it again this weekend—flaws and all.
The Amateur Doesn’t Nail Every Note, But It Still Sings
