Producers: Michael G. Wilson and Barbara Broccoli   Director: Reed Morano   Screenplay: Mark Burnell   Cast: Blake Lively, Jude Law, Sterling K. Brown, Raza Jaffrey, Max Casella, Richard Brake, Geoff Bell, Daniel Mays, David Duggan, Shane Whisker, Elly Curtis, Nasser Memarzia, Amira Ghazalla and Tawfeek Barhom   Distributor: Paramount Pictures

Grade: C-

It’s admirable for anyone to want to make an espionage-based action film that differs from the usual sleek fare in the genre, featuring some hero who can apparently overcome any obstacle with superhuman aplomb.  It’s especially so when one of the major producing entities is the one that has overseen the James Bond franchise that set the template so many others have, to one extent or another, tried to emulate.  And the fact that the protagonist is female makes it all the more remarkable.

A pity that the end result is so disappointing.  “The Rhythm Section”—a poor title that, though explained at one point, remains pretty opaque—turns out to be a low-rent Le Carré rip-off that’s the very antithesis of a crowd-pleaser.  Not that it’s trying to make anybody feel good; it’s far too dark and depressing for that.

One can’t blame the movie’s problems on a lack of fidelity to its source material.  The script is by Mark Burnell, the author of the novel (one of  series) on which it’s based.  (The title is his, too.)  Presumably the plot weaknesses are present in the book, too, but they’re probably more obvious on the screen than they were on the page.

After a brief prologue in Tangier, where we see Stephanie Patrick (Blake Lively) preparing to shoot a man (Richard Brake) sitting in a chair, the film flashes back to a time some months earlier , when she was a bedraggled homeless person hooked on drugs and occasionally making money as a prostitute.  Lively certainly throws herself into the part without reservation: you might think that she’d wandered in from a Sadfie brothers movie. 

The reason for her dissipation is quickly made clear.  He entire family died in a plane crash that she had declined to take with them, and she’s overwhelmed with grief and remorse.  But she assumes that the crash was an accident—the official explanation—until approached by Keith Proctor (Raza Jaffrey), a freelance reporter who’s been investigating it at the instance of  rich businessman Suleman Kaif (Nasser Memarzia) and his wife Alia (Amira Ghazalla).  He tells Stephanie that the plane was brought down by a bomb planted by a terrorist named Reza (Tawfeek Barhom), who—for reasons not explained—the authorities have neglected to arrest. 

Stephanie determines to kill him, but can’t go through with it.  After Proctor is killed, though, she seeks out his source—and finds him absurdly easily, with just the Scottish equivalent on a zip code to go by.  (It helps that his seems to be the only house for miles.)  He’s an ex MI6 agent named Ian Boyd (Jude Law), who after some grumpy reluctance gets her clean, toughens her up through trials like swimming in an ice-cold loch, and trains her in the brutal techniques of killing. 

Boyd then assigns her the identity of a dead assassin called Petra Reuter, and sends her to Marseille to meet a notorious dealer in information, Marc Serra (Sterling K. Brown), who gets her a lucrative gig to kill sleazy businessman Leon Giler (Max Casella) and then gives her the locations of Lehmans (Brake), who was involved in the downing of the plane, and Reza so that she can take them out.

What would be amusing about all this—if Burnell and director Reed Morano allowed even a whiff of humor to intrude into their grim, ultra-serious treatment, is not only that Stephanie is, until the twisty ending, being used by virtually everyone, but that in actuality she’s not terribly good at the murder business, largely because her conscience keeps getting in the way.  Her failure to shoot Reza when she has the chance early on gives him the opportunity to do more damage; her reluctance to gut Giler puts everything in jeopardy; and when she dithers in shooting Lehmans, it gives him the chance to turn the tables.

To be sure, that allows Morano to stage some visceral action sequences, most notably the fight with Lehmans (which Patrick survives only by dumb luck) along with an ensuing car chase (which, once again, ends in near-disaster), and an attempting bombing of a bus.  All, however, are so skittishly shot by Sean Bobbitt and edited by Joan Sobel that they amount to visual assaults.  There’s also an aural assault in terms of the decision to use several pop tunes to comment on the action at various points—an oddly out-of-place idea that’s simply grating. 

It must be said that through it all, Lively gives her all, which is considerable.  She looks genuinely distressed from beginning to end, even when donning wigs and glitzy clothes as disguises, and handles the role’s physical demands impressively.  Law does the dour, world-weary bit with grim efficiency, and Brown brings smoothness to the unflappable Serra.  The rest of the cast fulfill their responsibilities more than adequately, with Jaffrey and Barhom the standouts; Casella, however, overdoes the sleaze (and frankly the exteriors for that sequence don’t appear to have actually been shot in New York City, where it’s ostensibly set).

Burnell’s book was followed by three other Stephanie Patrick novels, and presumably it’s hoped that “The Rhythm Section” will inaugurate a Jason Bourne-like series.  But despite Lively’s committed performance, the unrelieved grimness and cynicism of this initial installment make it unlikely to spawn a franchise.           

Producers: Scott Bernstein, Roy Lee and Seth William Meier   Director: Floria Sigismondi   Screenplay: Carey W. Haynes and Chad Hayes   Cast: Mackenzie Davis, Finn Wolfhard, Brooklynn Prince, Barbara Marten, Joely Richardson, Niall Greig Fulton, Denna Thomsen and Kim Adis   Distributor: Universal Pictures

Grade:  C-

Henry James’s chilling 1898 novella “The Turn of the Screw” has been adapted many times in numerous forms; among the finest are Benjamin Britten’s marvelous 1954 opera and one of the cinematic versions, Jack Clayton’s eerie 1961 “The Innocents.”  This misguided updating of the tale, unhappily, does not join their illustrious company; it reduces James’s classic to a fairly typical modern haunted-house movie, with lots of pro-forma jump scares and cheap gotcha moments.  

For some reason screenwriters Carey and Chad Hayes, who scored big with “The Conjuring,” have chosen to situate the action in 1994, referencing the suicide of Kurt Cobain repeatedly to pinpoint things.  The decision does allow for the inclusion of some period grunge rock on the soundtrack, though, which is perhaps all the reason they felt they needed.  Or maybe they were trying to establish a mood of foreboding via a quick pop culture reference.  (One might note that given the film that follows, an opening tone of foreboding is quite appropriate.)

In any event, the updated “governess” is immediately introduced—she’s Kate (Mackenzie Davis), a young girl with a perpetually downcast look, perhaps because her mother (Joey Richardson) is in a mental institution.  She informs her incredulous roommate/best friend (Kim Adis) that she’s taken a job as tutor to a young girl named Flora Fairchild (Brooklynn Prince), who’s recently lost her parents.

So Kate goes off to the opulent but depressing Fairchild estate, where she finds the child in the care of flinty housekeeper Mrs. Grose (Barbara Marten), who’s for some reason the sole British character left by the Hayes brothers.  Kate and Flora seem to be getting along reasonably well until the girl’s older brother Miles (Finn Wolfhard) arrives, having been expelled from boarding school for attacking a classmate.  He dotes on his sister, but has a vaguely sinister personality, is subject to sudden mood swings and eggs Flora to collaborate in wicked pranks, mostly directed against Kate. 

It eventually becomes clear that the children were deeply affected by their former governess Miss Jessel (Denna Thomsen), who disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and their riding instructor Peter Quint (Niall Greig Fulton), described by Grose as a malevolent fellow who died suddenly in a fall from his horse; Flora is terrified to leave the estate, certainly that she’ll die if she tries to, while Miles’s brooding, often nasty conduct seems inspired by his idolization of Quint.

But it’s not merely the memory of Jessel and Quint that haunts the place; Kate becomes convinced that their spirits are actually present, threatening her.  The rest of the film is basically devoted to watching Kate become more and more unhinged as her fear escalates.  She thinks she sees phantom figures and in one instance actually finds Jessel’s drowned body in the lake.  She finds herself trapped in horrifying situations—which, of course, turn out to be that old horror-movie standby, nightmares.  When she tries to take the children beyond the grounds, Flora demands to be let out of the car.  And though she tries to reach Miles, he remains hostile and at times positively dangerous.  It’s obvious that the film is careening toward a tragic outcome, and it does—or at least perhaps does.

To give the picture credit where it’s due, it looks quite attractive in David Ungaro’s lustrous widescreen cinematography, and Paki Smith’s production design is fine.  But editor Glenn Garland has trouble giving shape to the individual episodes director Floria Sigismondi has fashioned, and both the visual effects and Nathan Barr’s score are at best adequate.

Among the cast Wolfhard, who’s becoming the go-to teen for roles requiring an aura of strangeness, comes off best, though Prince pulls off Flora’s changes of mood.  One might also enjoy hollow-cheeked Marten’s portrayal of stern, stuffy Grose (a very different character from the one in most versions of the tale).  As for Davis, the poor thing shows a willingness to be put through the emotional wringer again and again, but comes across as a rather simpering sort.       

“The Turning” ends on a note that will leave most viewers muttering “What the [expletive deleted]?” as the final credits suddenly roll.  One can interpret it as representing either the filmmakers’ throwing up their hands in despair, or as the logical, if rather silly, conclusion to the story that’s been told for ninety minutes—in which case it’s just about as satisfying as Bobby Ewing’s infamous shower reappearance in “Dallas.”  In any event, it’s likely to send you home wishing you’d watched “The Innocents” instead.

In fact, it would be best to wait to catch the movie later on television, if you watch it at all.  Then you could turn “The Turning” off.