Red Sparrow fails to take flight (Review)

This throwback to ’80s Cold War spy thrillers is an unpleasant piece of exploitation that doesn’t utilize the cast’s full potential.

Russia is a hot button issue if you spend any amount of time on the Internet. And this newfound resurgence of the Cold War can be felt in this week’s release of Red Sparrow, the new spy thriller starring Jennifer Lawrence and Joel Edgerton. Taking its cues from the works of master spy novelist John Le Carré, Red Sparrow sets up an intriguing expose of the spy genre and its mistreatment of women, only to fall right into the hole it dug for someone else. Director Francis Lawrence — no relation to his leading lady — and screenwriter Justin Haythe (who I assumed was sent to script prison post-Lone Ranger) craft an overly convoluted tale of Russian intrigue that hits all the typical Bond beats while failing to understand why women often aren’t the leads of these movies. With such a scummy premise to begin with, Red Sparrow ends up taking Jennifer Lawrence’s Mockingjay and turns her into a broken and beaten sparrow.

Dominika Egorova (Lawrence) is a Russian prima ballerina whose life is changed when a massive injury sidelines her career. Desperate to keep her and her mother off the streets, Dominika takes a job for her uncle (Matthias Schoenaerts), a high ranking member of the Russian government. The job entails seducing a man who is quickly killed. Desperate to avoid becoming a loose end Dominika takes her uncle’s offer to become a Sparrow, a Russian spy whose job involves sexually manipulating people to reveal secrets. When Dominika is tasked with learning the identity of a Russian mole from an American agent (Joel Edgerton), the young woman gets an opportunity to find her own way out of the life that’s been chosen for her.

In cinema the spy is a master of stealth, ingenuity and intelligence. At least, if you’re a man. Female spies throughout the years have often fallen into being “spies” in the sense they’re trained to seduce and little more. So it is with Red Sparrow, the story of a woman forced to go to school as a means of avoiding execution. The initial premise is a bit questionable, but nothing can prepare you for two hours of toxic masculinity. The opening scene emphasizes this right away, with the introduction of Dominika as a ballerina preparing for her big night on-stage, and also being lightly fondled by a male patron. From the outset the script wants us to know a Russian woman’s body “belongs to the state,” and that could have interesting possibilities if done right.

Dominika’s career is quickly hobbled with the world’s most chilling leg break, forcing her to become a spy at the behest of Schoenaerts’ literal Uncle Vanya. (If anything, Schoenaerts gives us a great audition for his future role as young Putin.) When Red Sparrow actually engages in the Black Widow-esque process of becoming a Sparrow, there’s merit. Led by Charlotte Rampling at her coldest and steeliest, the school where Sparrows are taught prizes equal ability. Thus, both men and women are taught about agility, weapons, and, yes, sexuality. A few stray scenes of male nudity, already a rarity in movies, opens up the possibility that Red Sparrow wants to limit the exposure and consumption of female bodies, but once Dominika “graduates,” it’s right back to what we know about female spies.

Toughly 45 minutes of watching Dominika be urged to let her guard down and learn something. The rest of the exorbitantly long two-and-a-half-hour runtime places Dominika in the orbit of Edgerton’s CIA operative Nate Nash. To their credit, Lawrence and Edgerton are both trying their hardest to make up for the narrative’s severe lack of suspense or intrigue. Edgerton doesn’t seem to believe his own words when he proposes Dominika help the Americans, and Lawrence definitely gives off enough ferocity that you want her to succeed.

The issue is Red Sparrow seems to have a confusing definition of what feminism is. It wants to present Dominika as empowered, getting one over on the men who wronged her, but that only sees her being compelled to join a different man; this man, Edgerton’s Nash, is situated as the “right man,” though. The problem is that both groups still require Dominika to be a sexual object, with the lines of consent being in ever-changing shades of gray. The audience also spends an inordinate amount of time watching women being tortured. Dominika herself is beaten, broken and assaulted more than once. One scene actually sees her raped before she’s “saved.” Later moments show women being tortured, scenes that are contrasted with the bloodless torturing of a man in a later scene.

This all might have worked if the film didn’t seem like a derivative take on the likes of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. The twist at the end is telegraphed a mile away, and even though Dominika is the instigator there’s little discussion about her actual agency in the whole thing. And this isn’t a criticism on the stars. Both Lawrence and Edgerton are fine, but this film is well beneath both of their talents, Lawrence especially. Schoenaerts is the typical Russian villain, nothing special there. Jeremy Irons gets an opportunity to sit in a rich leather bound chair and drink tea which probably works for him, but does little to make his character memorable. Mary-Louise Parker gets the rare moment of levity as a woman forced to work with Dominika, though it’s unclear whether the humor is intentional.

Red Sparrow needs to be put out of its misery. Unpleasant and unnecessarily exploitative of its female lead, the film exists only to show off its leading lady’s body, breaking her down as a means of “empowering” her. In our world of #MeToo and #TimesUp, we need to say no to misogynistic tripe like Red Sparrow.

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