Mercy Review

Imagine Minority Report, but instead of Tom Cruise on the run, Chris Pratt spends most of the movie strapped to a chair! That’s got to be the easiest paycheck an actor has collected since Ice Cube literally phoned it in with last year’s War of the Worlds. Okay, Mercy is a better film than that disasterpiece. So are 99.9% of the movies released in the past century. There’s actually a common thread here, as Mercy’s director, Timur Bekmambetov, was a producer on War of the Worlds. While that’s not a promising omen, Bekmambetov also produced the enjoyable Unfriended and Searching, popularizing the screenlife genre. Where Searching, in particular, stood out with strong performances and an engaging mystery, Mercy just feels artificial.

The film sets itself in the far-off future of 2029. Within just three years, police will pursue criminals on giant drones, and an AI court system will be initiated. For over a decade now, Pratt has essentially been playing himself. He continues that trend as a character named Chris Raven, a police officer who wakes up strapped to a chair. He comes face to face (seriously, this movie is full of extreme close-ups) with Judge Maddox (Rebecca Ferguson), an AI who’ll serve as his judge, jury, and executioner. Technically, Maddox can’t kill Raven, but the chair will if he can’t prove his innocence. Raven stands accused of murdering his wife, Nicole (Annabelle Wallis). He only has ninety minutes to convince Maddox he wasn’t responsible. At least there’s a timer so the audience doesn’t have to constantly check their watches.

Mercy has an interesting enough premise, although the screenplay fails to unlock its potential. It would’ve been more interesting if the audience weren’t sure whether or not Raven was innocent. The film makes it fairly clear from the get-go, though, that he’s been wrongfully accused. Mercy still could’ve worked as an absorbing whodunit, but there aren’t many suspects to keep us guessing. So, it’s not that hard for the audience to figure out who’s truly behind the crime, making it all the more frustrating as a detective and all-seeing AI struggle to see what’s apparent.

Aside from lacking a compelling mystery, Bekmambetov’s direction is all over the map. While the screenlife genre is inherently gimmicky, it can serve as a vessel for effective visual storytelling. Searching was elevated by seamless editing, clever cinematography, and direction that allowed moments to sink in. Mercy offers no room to breathe. When the camera isn’t zoomed in on Pratt and Ferguson, it’s frantically moving around as characters spout exposition. It feels less like a movie and more like a video game, which might’ve been the superior medium for this material.

Mercy fails to say anything worthwhile about AI. The idea of an AI controlling courts with no jurors or attorneys sounds like something out of a dystopian horror picture. Yet, Judge Maddox is depicted as efficient, accommodating, and reasonable, making a strong argument for AI integration while ignoring the numerous ways this could backfire. Considering that Bekmambetov has reportedly invested millions in AI, this isn’t surprising. There’s a point where Pratt says that humans and AI both have their flaws. Mercy disregards the issues with AI, although we’re reminded that humans can make lousy movies with or without tech support.