Chris Pratt trades quips for quiet fury in this pulse-pounding revenge odyssey that hits like a suppressed AR-15 round—clean, lethal, and echoing long after. As Lt. Cmdr. James Reece, a Navy SEAL gutted by a botched op that torches his platoon, family, and sanity, Pratt sheds the Jurassic charm for a haunted predator mode. Hallucinations haunt him like ghosts in NVGs, blurring the line between trauma and truth as he uncovers a conspiracy snaking from the Pentagon to Big Pharma’s shadows. It’s Bourne meets Jack Reacher with a veteran’s raw edge, courtesy of Jack Carr’s SEAL-penned novel.

Taylor Kitsch steals scenes as loyal bro Ben Edwards, Constance Wu brings steel to the grieving widow Katie, and a killer ensemble (JD Pardo, Rory McCann) fuels the brotherhood. Antoine Fuqua’s pilot crackles with tactical grit—night raids that feel ripped from helmet cam footage—while the eight-episode arc builds to a bonfire of betrayals. Critics griped about the brooding gloom and predictable beats (40% RT, oof), but fans roared approval (94% audience score), calling it binge gold for its unapologetic thrills and middle-finger to the machine. No lectures, just vengeance that sticks.

Prime Video’s alpha-male anthem? Hell yeah—grab your popcorn and plot armor.

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