TL;DR: Wildcat is a scruffy, low-budget but surprisingly fun crime thriller led by a committed Kate Beckinsale performance and supported by a lively ensemble. The CGI is cheap, the world is fantastical in ways that defy London geography, and the plot is a familiar rescue mission, but for fans of gritty British capers and Guy Ritchie-style chaos, it scratches the itch well enough.
Wildcat
Every so often, I’ll scroll through a streaming service, stumble across a gritty British crime thriller with a neon poster and a famous face, and think to myself, ah yes, the sacred Guy Ritchie starter pack. And in this Wildcat review, I’ll be honest: this one had me hooked early, not because it looks slick or prestigious, but because it leans into the scrappiness of its own identity like a wily alley cat trying to pass for a jungle predator.
Directed by James Nunn, Wildcat opens with a diamond heist so frenetically staged it feels like someone fed a bunch of 2000s crime DVDs into an algorithm and said, give me a vibe check. Kate Beckinsale, ever the genre survivor and always game for mayhem, plays Ada, a single mother in East London trying desperately to keep her Deaf daughter Charlotte safe while outrunning the gravitational pull of her own criminal past. As an opener, it works: the movie grabs you by the collar, mutters something about stakes, and sprints off before you can decide whether to take it seriously or just enjoy the ride.
I settled into the enjoyment lane pretty quickly. Because for all its B-movie seams—and Wildcat has seams you could spot from a cheap seat at Wembley—there’s an earnest, punchy energy that reminds me of the cable thrillers I used to watch at midnight when I was supposed to be studying for exams. There’s comfort in that chaos. Familiarity. A kind of cinematic munchie food that you know isn’t substantial but still hits the spot in the moment.
Ada’s crew is an eclectic lineup straight out of action-movie central casting, but in a charming way. Rasmus Hardiker steals almost every scene as her brother Edward, nicknamed Looney Tunes because even in low-budget crime worlds, gallows humor is a coping mechanism. Lewis Tan shows up as Roman, Ada’s handsome American ex, radiating that specific flavor of chaos you only get from men who can throw a punch impeccably but seem doomed to make catastrophically bad romantic decisions. Bailey Patrick grounds the team as Curtis, playing the straight man to everyone else’s unhinged energy.
It’s when the heist naturally goes sideways and little Charlotte is kidnapped that Wildcat locks into its main narrative engine. You can practically hear the script flipping to the chapter titled One Last Job, But This Time It’s Personal. It’s the kind of familiar setup that action fans can map in their sleep, but what gives Wildcat its flavor is the dynamic between Ada’s ferocity and her vulnerability. Beckinsale, sharpened by years of Underworld stunt training and indie-darling comedic roles, threads the line between badass and believable mom with surprising grace. Even when the script is doing doughnuts in a Tesco parking lot, she holds the emotional stakes together.
The real London Wildcat inhabits is one that doesn’t exist outside of cinema, but I can’t deny it’s fun to visit.
As someone who grew up wandering through a very different East London—one filled with artisan doughnuts, warehouse exhibitions, and flats that cost more than spacecraft—it always makes me laugh when films depict the city as a post-apocalyptic war zone. Wildcat isn’t the first London crime story to fabricate derelict estates and abandoned industrial sectors as battlegrounds, but it is one of the bolder fabricators.
Nunn imagines an East London overrun by brutal gangs who roam the streets like a fusion of The Warriors and the anonymous henchmen from every straight-to-DVD movie made between 2005 and 2013. Police do not enter. Locals barely escape. And somehow no property developers have swooped in with luxury loft proposals. It’s pure fantasy, but there’s something charming about that.
Charles Dance and Alice Krige show up to play the sort of aristocratic crime lords who speak like they’ve just stepped off a Shakespeare stage and into a knife fight. Dance, in particular, could narrate a parking ticket and make it sound like prophecy. He’s in the film for what feels like half an afternoon, presumably shot in one exquisitely lit location, but he gives exactly the kind of performance you want him to give: a man whose menace is so refined you wonder if he’s contractually obligated to raise an eyebrow during every threat.
Tom Bennett absolutely runs away with his scenes as an exasperated acquaintance who ends up harboring Ada’s crew. Bennett is one of those actors who can elevate a dishcloth to Shakespearean supporting status, and here he drops one-liners with the weary cadence of a man who did not sign up for this nonsense but is too polite to say no. When he asks why someone didn’t use the obvious escape tactic thirty minutes ago, the line lands with the kind of comedic timing that makes you wonder why he isn’t already in the Knives Out extended universe.
Where Wildcat stumbles—and occasionally faceplants—is in its production value.
I’m a firm believer that a low-end budget doesn’t doom a film; some of my all-time favorite action movies were shot with money scrounged from sofa cushions. But Wildcat sometimes overreaches, particularly with its CGI. There are explosions that look like they were purchased in bulk from a stock-effects website offering a 20 percent discount. There are muzzle flashes that flicker like someone forgot to preload the assets.
To the film’s credit, most of this plays better at home than in theaters. This is the kind of movie that thrives on streaming, where you can enjoy the messy fun without expecting spectacle-level polish. When viewed in that context, the cheapness even becomes part of the charm. It adds texture, like watching a PlayStation 2 cutscene reenacted by a cast far too talented for the limitations imposed on them.
The action choreography sits in an interesting middle zone. It’s competent without being slick, energetic without being elegant. I found myself appreciating the commitment more than the execution. There’s a rawness to the brawls, a sense that the film is trying so hard to punch above its weight that you can’t help rooting for it. Beckinsale, for her part, still moves like someone whose muscle memory includes dual-wielding pistols in slow motion.
What I didn’t expect was the BDSM-flavored detour midway through the movie, where Ada confronts a sultry rival named Cia in an underground club so elaborately designed it feels like the art department cashed their entire budget in one go. It’s the kind of scene where the film earnestly says, look, we know we’re a Guy Ritchie knockoff, but we’re at least going to give you some variety. And you know what? It works. It’s bizarre, indulgent, slightly goofy, but undeniably entertaining.
By the time the final showdown arrives, Wildcat has proven itself to be exactly what it wants to be: a spirited, scrappy crime caper with enough charm to outweigh its flaws. It’s not groundbreaking, it’s not polished, and it’s not trying to be. The movie exists for the audience who has watched Snatch too many times and wants something that scratches the same itch without requiring the focus or emotional investment of a prestige thriller.
And that’s the thing. Wildcat knows its lane. It never promises prestige; it promises entertainment. And in that regard, it delivers more often than it misses.
