by Tim Gordon
In Fuze, director David Mackenzie drops audiences into a London on edge, where the discovery of an unexploded WWII bomb collides with the chaos of a meticulously planned heist. What begins as a standard evacuation thriller quickly escalates into a layered tale of greed, mistrust, and survival, with Mackenzie once again proving his knack for blending taut genre filmmaking with sharp social tension.
The premise is deceptively simple: a WWII bomb unearthed at a construction site sparks a massive evacuation across the city. But as the military and police scramble to contain the threat, another revelation emerges: a bank vault near the site has been expertly robbed. What seems like two unrelated crises begins to merge into one, raising the stakes for everyone involved.
The cast is a major asset to the film’s impact. Aaron Taylor-Johnson brings a grounded intensity to Major Will Tranter, the officer charged with leading the bomb disposal unit. His performance mixes authority with vulnerability, capturing the pressure of making life-or-death decisions on the fly. Opposite him, Gugu Mbatha-Raw delivers a commanding turn as Chief Superintendent Zuzana, who must juggle both the citywide evacuation and her pursuit of Theo James’s Karalis, the slippery mastermind behind the heist. Mbatha-Raw imbues Zuzana with sharp intelligence and moral clarity, making her one of the film’s anchors.
Theo James, meanwhile, relishes the role of Karalis, a criminal whose cunning and arrogance slowly unravel as betrayals pile up. His presence adds an unpredictable energy, a reminder that no plan survives intact when human greed is involved. Sam Worthington, playing the enigmatic figure known only as X, injects an ominous unpredictability, his loyalties shifting from scene to scene, keeping both allies and enemies guessing.
Mackenzie, best known for Hell or High Water, once again crafts a narrative steeped in tension. Like that earlier film, Fuze is not just about the mechanics of a crime but about the human stakes and moral compromises that emerge under pressure. Where Hell or High Water used the backdrop of rural Texas and financial desperation, Fuze uses London’s history and its present-day anxieties, creating a pressure cooker where class divisions, distrust, and survival instincts all collide.
The pacing is relentless, but Mackenzie still finds moments of stillness, characters staring at the bomb’s timer, weighing whether to cut a wire or let fate decide; thieves second-guessing their partners as greed overtakes loyalty. The WWII bomb is both a literal and metaphorical ticking clock, a reminder of the past’s ability to intrude violently on the present.
As with most heist thrillers, the intrigue lies less in the perfection of the plan than in the cracks that form once it’s set in motion. Mackenzie understands this well, giving space for double-crosses and moral dilemmas to feel organic rather than contrived. The cinematography mirrors this duality, sleek during the planning stages, chaotic and handheld once everything goes sideways.
The score heightens the tension, alternating between percussive urgency and quieter, suspenseful tones, reflecting the shifting allegiances of the characters. By the finale, Mackenzie has woven together the threads of bomb disposal, criminal betrayal, and survival under fire into a conclusion that feels both satisfying and inevitable.
Fuze may not reinvent the heist genre, but it sharpens it, adding historical resonance and a citywide sense of urgency that make it feel fresh. With a strong ensemble cast, stylish direction, and themes that echo Mackenzie’s best work, it’s a smart, suspenseful thriller that lingers beyond its final frame.
Grade: B+.
