‘MERCY’ Review: Chris Pratt’s ‘MINORITY REPORT’ Redux is Better Than You Suspect, But Still Not Great

Courtney Howard // Film Critic

MERCY

Rated PG-13, 1 hour and 40 minutes

Directed by: Timur Bekmambetov

Starring: Chris Pratt, Rebecca Ferguson, Kali Reis, Annabelle Wallis, Chris Sullivan, Kylie Rogers, Jeff Pierre, Rafi Gavron, Kenneth Choi

With MERCY, director Timur Bekmambetov combines his trademark enthusiasm for fresh screen-life filmmaking with the entertaining zing of a traditional sci-fi-tinged noir. Though it’s got a catchy premise that instantly hooks audiences (one that unabashedly lifts from MINORITY REPORT to a reductive degree), its concepts are shaped into an appropriately flawed story about a flawed hero on a redemptive journey. Still, it’s a slight bit better than the average black-holed, Amazon-produced movie.

Los Angeles police detective Chris Raven (Chris Pratt) awakens in a hazy, drunken stupor, strapped to a mechanized chair in a courthouse, bedraggled and befuddled as to how he came to be in his current condition. He’s informed that he’s the prime suspect in the recent gruesome murder of his wife Nicole (Annabelle Wallis) and he’s got 90 minutes to prove his innocence to an AI bot, Judge Maddox (Rebecca Ferguson). Due to surging criminal activity, civil unrest and vast unemployment, the city has enacted a successful program called the Mercy Court System wherein criminals are tried as guilty parties and given a short window of time to prove their innocence beyond a reasonable doubt. Raven – an early vocal supporter of this program – is the program’s 19^th case.

Raven has hit rock bottom – and not solely because all the digital evidence points to him as Nicole’s killer. In the chair, he grapples with his alcoholism stemming from grief over the death of his partner (Kenneth Choi), as well as anger management issues. He also realizes he’s been an absentee father to his rebellious, surly teen daughter Britt (Kylie Rogers). But if Raven wants to exonerate himself, his self-pity has to be put on hold. He must think like his former detective self to solve this case, recreating the crime scene through 3-D renderings conjured instantaneously, pulling up video footage, documents and photographs from any device, and calling his partner Detective Jacqueline Diallo (played by a poorly utilized Kali Reis) and his A.A. sponsor/ Nicole’s co-worker Rob (Chris Sullivan).

The mimeographing of Spielberg’s aforementioned futuristic film is pretty blatant, but engrossing in its own special ways. Shifting the perspective from “Man on the run” to “Man in the chair” is an interesting jump off point that heightens the stakes. A literal ticking clock in the right hand corner of Maddox’s display provides the atmospheric pull and a thumping percussive beat to Ramin Djawadi’s suffocating score. Even in an alt-world setting, it’s pretty astounding how much of a digital trail criminals thoughtlessly leave behind and how relatively easy it is to put the puzzle pieces together with all the resources available. Bekmambetov and writer Marco van Belle suspend audience disbelief just enough, thoroughly exploring how technology could be utilized not as a preventative measure, but to aid in criminal investigations.

The filmmakers embrace AI, spotlighting its capabilities over its flaws, making it pro-AI. At one point, Maddox helps Raven to re-center his investigation, which would allow for his percentage rate of guilt to drop to a greater degree. The pair both have character-defining arcs, which is heartening to see included and implemented, however those range from superficial (his) to obtuse (its). “Facts aren’t black and white. The truth is found in the gray,” Raven tells Maddox in a line dropped on our heads as heavily as an anvil. He inevitably learns the value of self-forgiveness, but at a breakneck speed, mostly relegated to his act 1 introduction.

Red herrings like Nicole’s extra-marital beaux Patrick Burke (Jeff Pierre) and her shipping dock colleague Holt Charles (Rafi Gavron) are fairly effective, giving the narrative momentum. Yet they’re each dealt heavy exposition dumps, with Burke trafficking his through dialogue and Charles through his digital footprint. The breadcrumbs for solving the mystery afoot are the size of Taylor Swift’s sourdough loaves. The denouement’s twist is super sloppy and fundamentally tone deaf. Plus, while the film aims to be an immersive experience in 3-D IMAX, there’s little engagement with either format, making them both appear as gimmicky, extraneous artifice.

Ferguson is the best part, clearly having a blast as a less cheeky, more smug Max-Headroom-inspired evaluator of humankind. She never appears robotic, even as she occasionally glitches or repeats commands to her confused, frequently-interruping defendant. She invokes the nuance that AI is continually learning from human behavior, so by the end of the trial she’s evolved to a superior plane of consciousness replete with a Jiminy Cricket-esque conscience. That said, her screen partner Pratt is guilty of the crime of overacting. His performance suffers from being mostly isolated from fellow cast members. Sure, he scowls, acts agitated, desperate, and sad when called upon. Yet the material taxes his limited range.

Despite its blights, MERCY is an ambitious step up from Amazon’s typical January fare (THE BEEKEEPER notwithstanding) that will later provide a decent watch on Prime Video, rising above films that go into their direct-to-consumer vortex.

Grade: C-

MERCY opens in theaters on January 23.