Mercy Review: Chris Pratt’s Dark Turn in AI Thriller

What if the system designed to deliver justice is incapable of mercy? Mercy is a sleek, tightly wound science fiction thriller that traps its audience in a single chair, a single perspective, and that single terrifying question. Directed by Timur Bekmambetov and written by Marco van Belle, the film blends high-concept sci-fi with intimate psychological drama, resulting in a tense, claustrophobic experience that feels both futuristic and uncomfortably close to our present moment. This is a captivating modern thriller that will keep you at the edge of your seat.

Set in the near future, Mercy centers on Detective Chris Raven (Chris Pratt), an LAPD officer who wakes up restrained in a chair, informed by an advanced AI judge named Maddox (Rebecca Ferguson) that he is on trial for the murder of his wife, Nicole. The rules are brutally simple: Raven has 90 minutes to prove his innocence, or he will be executed on the spot. There is no jury, no human judge, and no appeal—just a cold, calculating system that claims to be free of bias. From the moment the film begins, Raven is already condemned, and the clock is ticking.

The premise immediately calls to mind the work of Philip K. Dick, whose stories frequently explored the terrifying implications of predictive justice, surveillance, and technology that claims moral neutrality while quietly erasing humanity. Like Dick’s best work, Mercy takes a deep interest in how systems of control break down when applied to flawed, emotional people. The AI judge may be advanced, but it still operates on data. And data, the film argues, is never the full story.

The most obvious point of comparison is Steven Spielberg’s Minority Report. Both films revolve around futuristic crime-prevention technology that ultimately turns on one of its own architects. In Minority Report, Tom Cruise’s character becomes a victim of the very system he enforces, forcing him to confront the fallibility of supposedly perfect technology. Similarly, Raven is a detective who trusted the system until it decided he was guilty. The difference is scale and intimacy: Minority Report sprawls across a city, while Mercy locks us into one room, one man, and one unraveling psyche.

The film also strongly echoes The Fugitive, particularly in its emotional foundation. Like Harrison Ford’s Dr. Richard Kimble, Raven is a man accused of murdering his wife, racing against time to clear his name. But where The Fugitive unfolds as a cat-and-mouse chase, Mercy internalizes the pursuit. Raven cannot run. He cannot fight his way out. His only weapon is truth, or at least his version of it. The tension comes not from movement, but from revelation. The story is driven forward by technology, as Raven must communicate with others through video call and make revelations through stolen phone camera footage.

This makes Mercy a fascinating and rare role for Chris Pratt. Over the last decade, Pratt has become synonymous with likable, charismatic action heroes: Star-Lord in Guardians of the Galaxy, Owen Grady in Jurassic World, and even the cheerful voices of Mario and Garfield. Here, he sheds that persona almost entirely. Chris Raven is not charming. He is violent, volatile, deeply flawed, and painfully self-aware. He is an alcoholic with a vicious temper and a bad husband whose anger repeatedly strained his marriage. The film does not soften these edges, nor does it rush to redeem him.

In fact, one of Mercy’s greatest strengths is its refusal to make Raven an easy protagonist to root for. As evidence mounts, the film repeatedly suggests that he could have killed his wife. Raven has no memory of the murder, but with alcohol impairing his system, anything is possible. We are not positioned one step ahead of the story; instead, we learn information at the same time Raven does. Because the film begins with him already strapped into the chair, we are locked into his perspective for the entire runtime. There are no cutaways to reassuring subplots or omniscient viewpoints. If Raven is confused, angry, or terrified, so are we.

Bekmambetov’s direction leans heavily into this subjective experience, employing a visual style that blends traditional filmmaking with screen-life techniques popularized by films he’s produced like Searching, Missing, and Unfriended. Screens, digital interfaces, surveillance footage, and projections dominate the visual language, yet it never feels gimmicky. Instead, it feels like the logical next step for this style of storytelling that mirrors how we already experience the world through devices, dashboards, and mediated reality. The car crashes and chases are all happening in real time through Raven’s perspective, as if we were watching on livestreams or news broadcasts.

Some may jokingly compare Mercy to last year’s notoriously bad War of the Worlds screen-life experiment, which also featured a character largely confined to looking at screens while chaos unfolded elsewhere. Bekmambetov served as a producer on that film as well, but Mercy demonstrates exactly how to make this premise work. Despite being confined to a single location, the film is electric with tension. You feel the danger, the urgency, and the emotional pressure bearing down on Raven as the ticking clock winds down.

Rebecca Ferguson is perfectly cast as Judge Maddox, the AI arbiter of Raven’s fate. Her performance is chillingly effective. She strips her voice of warmth, emotion, and human rhythm, embodying a presence that is formal, precise, and utterly merciless. Maddox is not evil in a traditional sense; she is simply unfeeling, which may be far more terrifying.

The film’s main weakness is its slight predictability. By the time the third act unveils its major revelations, some twists may already be apparent from the first act. The film lays its clues clearly, and genre-savvy viewers may see where it’s heading before it arrives. Still, the journey remains compelling, even if the destination isn’t entirely surprising.

Ultimately, Mercy succeeds as a gripping, high-concept thriller that asks unsettling questions about justice, accountability, and whether truth can survive inside a system that only understands data. Anchored by one of Chris Pratt’s boldest and darkest performances to date, this exciting film proves that even in a single chair, with nowhere to run, white-knuckled tension can be found in unexpected places.

SCORE: 8/10

As ComingSoon’s review policy explains, a score of 8 equates to “Great.” While there are a few minor issues, this score means that the art succeeds at its goal and leaves a memorable impact.

Source: Comingsoon.net