Havoc (2025)
Gareth Evans unleashes his Raid-level fury on the mean streets, and Tom Hardy is the battered battering ram at the center. As Detective Walker—a jaded, estranged dad scooping coke into his coffee amid holiday blues—Hardy growls through a night from hell: a botched drug heist spirals into a desperate rescue of a politician’s wild-child son (Justin Cornwell, all reckless fire), dragging him into a cesspool of crooked badges, cartel snakes, and power-hungry suits. Think John Wick crashes into The Departed, but with Welsh grit and enough lead flying to melt the screen. 
The action? Evans’ masterpiece— that nightclub shootout’s a multi-floor frenzy of shattering glass and bone-crunching takedowns, while the cabin siege finale feels like a pressure cooker exploding in slow-mo. Hardy’s a beast: bruised knuckles, haunted eyes, and that trademark mumble masking a storm of regret. Timothy Olyphant slinks as the silver-tongued fixer, Forest Whitaker looms with quiet menace, and Jessie Mei Li’s tough-as-nails ally adds sparks without stealing shine. Yeah, the plot’s a familiar cocktail of corruption and comeuppance (64% RT calls it out), but who cares when the punches land this hard?
Netflix’s bloody valentine to bad cops and worse choices. Stream it, then hit the gym.
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