‘Mercy’ Review: Chris Pratt’s Pro-AI Screenlife Sci-Fi Fails

‘Mercy’ Review: Chris Pratt Stars in a Weak, Pro-AI Screenlife Sci-Fi Disaster

Screenlife Movies and Timur Bekmambetov’s Waning Influence

No matter, though: When you look at virtually any screenlife movie — from earlier ones like Unfriended and Searching to more recent efforts like Missing or Unfriended: Dark Web or Profile — the odds are good that Timur Bekmambetov had a hand in it, as either producer or director. What he did help to popularize was the format in which that rant occurred — spanning nearly two hours, but converted seamlessly into digestible sound bites as it happened — during a time when audiences were knee-deep in digital life. To some, screenlife seemed the logical step after the found-footage boom had come and gone — a new, tech-driven strategy for telling thrillers.

From Innovation to Formula Fatigue

What was first refreshing became a formulaic. As more and more films came to rely on the same visual bag of tricks — desktop screens, video chats, notifications going off nonstop — the format started to lose its power. The final straw was probably last year’s War of the Worlds for Prime Video, a Bekmambetov-produced project that had less in common with being a reboot and more akin to an overextended tech demo posing as a summer tentpole.

Mercy as the Final Straw for the Screenlife Formula

If War of the Worlds indicated a retreat into formula, then Mercy is the last nail in the coffin. Operating as a diluted Searching knockoff, the movie masquerades as a near-future techno-thriller and offers of none of the urgency, anxiety or invention that once made screenlife storytelling feel worthwhile.

A Director Stuck in the Past

Bekmambetov—yes, the man behind Wanted—is back again, and he seems terminally unable to graduate from these by-now-stale tricks. Instead of developing the format, Mercy holds on for dear life as if to suggest that it doesn’t yet realize that the audience has outgrown these tricks already.

Even Strong Performances Can’t Save Mercy

Not even the reliably magnetic Rebecca Ferguson can rise above the material. She’s got some charisma to spare, but it’s really not quite enough to save a movie that feels stuck in a creative cul-de-sac. Now what was originally a bold stylistic experiment can be seen as nothing more than an unwillingness to grow up — which in turn leaves Mercy as a testament to how far the genre of screenlife films has fallen.

MPA Rating: PG13 (for Rated PG13 for violence, bloody images, some strong language, drug content and teen smoking.)

Runtime: 1 Hour and 40 Minutes

Language: English

Production Companies: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Atlas Entertainment, Bazelevs Company

Distributor: Amazon MGM Studios

Director: Timur Bekmambetov

Writers: Marco van Belle

Cast: Chris Pratt, Rebecca Ferguson, Annabelle Wallis, Kylie Rogers, Kali Reis, Chris Sullivan, Kenneth Choi

U.S Release Date: January 23, 2026

Mercy Plot Overview: A Dystopian AI Justice System

It is Los Angeles, 2029, and Mercy portrays a near-future in which the LAPD polices the skies in hovercrafts and the regular human system of justice has been completely ripped down. In its stead is an all-powerful AI, judging and executing on the fly. Now justice is no longer contrived in courtrooms — it’s automated, hastened and deadly.

The “Mercy” Program Explained

At the center of this circus is a government project called Mercy, which turns criminal trials into public theater. The accused are strapped to a so-called “Mercy Chair,” with only 90 minutes to prove their innocence. With no attorneys permitted, the accused is forced to argue their own defense, present evidence and prove their innocence in real time. Anyone who refuses is executed on the spot, no questions asked and no margin for error.

Chris Pratt as a Man on Trial

The movie follows Police detective Chris Raven (Chris Pratt), one of the first officers to invent Mercy and sow it into the seed of civil society. Nursing the mother of all hangovers following a booze-soaked night, Raven finds himself in a ghastly position: strapped to a Mercy Chair and charged with killing his wife (Annabelle Wallis) before he can so much as blink.

Facing Judgment From AI

Sitting in judgment of Q and Oh are Judge Maddox, a humanoid AI housed inside the body of Rebecca Ferguson, who runs the trial with chilly control. Representing himself at trial, Raven counters with the argument that someone is trying to frame him and pin the blame for his brother-in-law’s death on him. Now it is up to Captain Rynders to sift through the evidence of the case — as well as unmask his wife’s own secrets.

A Conspiracy Beyond a Single Crime

With the clock ticking down, Raven’s only hope is to expose him and claim his freedom – proving that even the most broken man can be on the right side. It starts as a battle to redeem his name; it becomes a quest inside the Mercy system, and whether true justice can ever be served if an artificial intelligence is pulling all the strings… Praise for Ragnar Jonasson “Bitingly contemporary in setting and tone and as gripping as they come.” — The Times “A classic crime writer with a modern edge.” —Linwood Barclay on Winterkill “Ragnar Jonasson writes with authority and panache, drawing you into the heart of a heinous crime without even realizing it.

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If you’ve seen a screenlife movie, then you’ve seen Mercy.

Mercy Review – Familiar Screenlife Structure With Minimal Evolution

Structurally, Mercy is nearly identical to every hai film that preceded it, with the exception of some slight presentation preferences. The storytelling framework — screens within screens, video calls, digital feeds of evidence — feels instantly familiar and does little in terms of innovation. What makes Mercy distinct, at least on the surface, is its heavy emphasis on a two-character dynamic, effectively starring (Chris Pratt) and Rebecca Ferguson — an ill-fitting one even before either character properly comes into his or her own.

Rebecca Ferguson Dominates the Screenlife Format

Imbalance is involved not just in the hierarchising power dynamic of the narrative — AI Judge Maddox’s complete control over Chris Raven— but also in quality of performance. As the ostensibly emotionless AI construct, Ferguson adds a laser-sharp confidence, sly wit, and commanding presence to the role. Her performance is full of personality, frequently outstripping Pratt in the moment and infusing energy into scenes that could seem static.

Much of the film’s visual rhetoric supports this dynamic. Rack-focus shots again and again last for an extra beat on Maddox, smirking in the background as Raven is perplexed by digital evidence or juggling anxious video calls. These exchanges are had with his estranged teenage daughter, Britt (Kylie Rogers), police detective partner Jaq (Kali Reis) and AA sponsor Rob (Chris Sullivan), and they unfurl over screens, in accordance with the genre and to emphasize Ferguson’s dominance within the frame.

Chris Pratt’s Dramatic Limitations Exposed

Though Raven is scripted to have plenty of pathos (he’s a recovering alcoholic who’s never forgiven himself for the death of his former partner, played by Kenneth Choi), Chris Pratt has trouble selling it. His backsliding — which happens culpably in step with his wife’s death, to disastrous results!_ thrusts the character into volatile and self-destructive terrain, but the performance seldom registers as genuine.

Inconsistent Emotional Delivery

Pratt proves again his inability not to let intensity slack. His performance lacks conviction and can’t decide whether to opt for a slightly detached or somewhat forced approach, and so vacillates between the two extremes, inevitably falling in a rather uncomfortable halfway house. A tragedy or desperate panic should be something the audience can embrace, but in Atomo’s case these emotional moments are delivered as stiffly and unnaturally as his hair looks and his line readings during the trial aren’t really any more human than those of the AI judge grilling him.

Supporting Cast Adds Emotional Weight

Paradoxically, it’s the supporting players who lend emotional ballast to the film. Sincerity and emotional texture are where Kali Reis, Chris Sullivan and Kylie Rogers are providing the help the central performance lacks. Their reactions and performances inject some much-needed urgency into the investigation, even as the bulk of their screen time is spent in video chat interfaces. In the end, Mercy unwittingly points out its own deficiency: the humanity isn’t in its center but rather among those stuck on this side of the screen.

Mercy’s near-future setting lacks creativity.

**Style Over Substance in Mercy’s Screenlife Presentation**

The extra shine in Mercy, its shiny future setting and hybrid trial-meets-police-procedural format also does little to truly innovate. It also shares production designer Alex McDowell with Minority Report – the comparisons do it no favours. Though the story mostly takes place in a single Mercy chamber, its near-future aesthetic extends out through a single police hovercraft, body-cam surveillance as it sweeps over Los Angeles and a torrent of digital interfaces.

Flashy Tech, Familiar Visual Language

Each visual format is designed to feel like accessing an iPhone via a VR headset — sleek, responsive and visually cluttered. Technically, the presentation is undeniably sharp. The 3D conversion is crisp, and Lam T. Nguyen’s tight editing maintains a 90-minute clock that feels almost real-time and gives the trial an energetic pushing-forward momentum.

Technical Skill Can’t Mask Narrative Repetition

Although those flourishes only superficially manage to distract. Down below the gloss, Mercy tumbles directly into those screenlife storytelling rhythms we’ve seen time and time again in the genre. The pace is brisk but the construction so hackneyed as to be predictable.

A Screenlife Script Built From Familiar Tropes

Marco van Belle’s script adheres to the standard screenlife playbook, almost beat for beat — so much so that one could easily find ways to draw up a bingo card full of clichés that repeat themselves throughout. The setup is familiar: a deeply flawed father, separated by a single location from estranged loved ones, seeks reconciliation with the aid of only his laptop and access to an unceasing array of digital tools.

Apps, Gimmicks, and the Illusion of Progress

EVEN JUDGE MADDOX reads as less of a character and more like a personified desktop interface, opening apps and data easily in just seconds. The investigation plays out with tech-savvy sleuthing and characters applying their digital prowess to solving the case while working through their own interpersonal problems at the same time.

A Predictable Twist and a Hollow Climax

Of course there’s a telegraphed “twist villain” at play, often a third or second cast build actor-instigating an overcooked personal vendetta on the side. The payoff is an inflated, action-driven climax with a reveal that does not carry the heft of something earned. Mercy ticks every screenlife box—even, regrettably, an especially daft climax—solidifying it as less a reinvention of the genre than a bloated greatest-hits package of its petroleum-powered worst habits.

Mercy frustratingly yet expectedly takes a tone-deaf stance on AI

CONCLUSION

Ultimately, Mercy is a prime example of what a creative cul-de-sac screenlife can be. The curbside appeal of the hyper-violent narrative noir derived from Warren’s down-and-dirty script, and his subsequent weird little short story collection, is dampened severely by both the joke having worn all to obvious (given how fresh GUN CRAZY still feels once studied in contrast) and a flash-pan urban vengeance fantasy that plays near blasé with Ai commentary badly botching its formal centerpiece. What might have been a piercing, discomfiting scrutiny of automated justice, however, instead devolves into a rote, tech-fixated thought experiment that confuses superficial novelty with actual insight. But as a sci-fi thriller, or commentary on our evolving digital world, Mercy is never able to justify its purpose—a cautionary tale for a future that’s more reminder that this particular form of moviemaking has long been dead.