But somewhere along the way, Stephanie becomes too enigmatic, despite the fact that she’s on screen nearly the entire time. We know very little about who she was before the tragedy, which was by design, but even a smidgen more backstory would have made the dangerous path she forges somewhat more plausible. When the exiled MI6 agent who’d been the journalist’s informant takes her in and trains her, it makes sense, although Jude Law is solid as the gruff character known only as B. Eventually, there’s a passing reference in the script to the fact that she’s spent months with this guy at his remote hideout at the edge of a Scottish loch, yet there’s little indication that they’ve formed the kind of emotional connection that would result from that kind of intense, intimate time together.
And yet a pivotal fight training scene in B’s cramped kitchen—shot in a single take—is riveting because it’s so flailing and imperfect, and because there’s nowhere to hide. Lively’s demeanor has morphed from that of a wounded animal to a scrappy predator. Later, Morano’s claustrophobic depiction of a car chase through the narrow streets of Tangiers, with cinematographer Sean Bobbitt (“12 Years a Slave”) inside the vehicle, also provides a visceral jolt.
Stephanie also meets up in Madrid with Sterling K. Brown’s character, a former CIA officer who now sells the intel he gleans to the highest bidder. He’s a crucial figure in her quest, but their relationship develops in ways that are both entirely unbelievable and narratively predictable. As charismatic as Lively and Brown are individually, they aren’t afforded the opportunity to establish any real chemistry with each other. And an interlude with an arrogant and wealthy bad guy (Max Casella) who also played a key role in the airplane attack raises way more questions than it answers.
That scene is a prime example of the film’s clangy tendency toward on-the-nose needle drops to comment on the action and set the mood. As Stephanie struts down Central Park West in a disguise, stalking her prey, we hear the ironic strains of the Brenda Lee classic “I’m Sorry”; later, as Stephanie closes in on her ultimate target, Elvis Presley’s “It’s Now or Never” plays. The title itself refers to a technique B teaches Stephanie to help her calm down and regain control during moments of panic: “Your heart is the drums, your breathing is the bass,” he says. “The Rhythm Section” itself could have used a little bit of soul.
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