Review | “The Day of the Jackal”: A Visually Stunning but Narratively Uneven Cat-and-Mouse Chase

A Tale of Two Leads: Redmayne’s Brilliance, Lynch’s Misfire

Sky’s 2024 take on The Day of the Jackal arrives dressed in luxury—sharp suits, glossy cinematography, and a promise of espionage prestige. But beneath the polish lies a thriller that doesn’t always know what story it wants to tell. It’s both dazzling and disjointed, held together almost entirely by Eddie Redmayne’s hypnotic turn as the titular assassin.

Redmayne’s Jackal is a study in contradictions. He’s a chameleon—one moment a calm, soft-spoken father tucking in his child; the next, a silent predator pulling the trigger without a blink. There’s a cold grace to his performance that’s hard to look away from. His Jackal doesn’t just kill; he plans, observes, adapts. You sense a man who’s lost all belief in redemption, yet still clings to a strange personal code. It’s easily one of Redmayne’s most controlled and chilling roles to date.

Lashana Lynch, however, gets the shorter end of the deal. Her MI6 agent, Bianca Pullman, should be the perfect counterweight—driven, intelligent, morally torn—but the writing leaves her stranded. Lynch plays her with a hard shell and clipped delivery, but the emotional gears never shift. We’re told she has family troubles, we see her exhaustion, but we never feel her desperation. What could have been a fascinating psychological duel ends up lopsided: the hunter feels flat, the hunted feels alive.

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Depiction from "The Day of the Jackal" series with a man in a brown jacket and sunglasses, suggesting intrigue and suspense.

Aesthetic Splendor vs. Narrative Clutter

Visually, though, The Day of the Jackal is a feast. The series leaps from Madrid’s golden sunlight to Berlin’s damp shadows to the eerie chill of the Baltics. Every frame feels curated, from the gleam of luxury cars to the sterile glow of a sniper’s workshop. There’s a stunning precision to it all—the camera lingers on tiny gestures, on hands, reflections, and glass—like the show itself is obsessed with surfaces.

But the same can’t be said for the storytelling underneath. What starts as a tight manhunt gradually turns into a web of half-cooked subplots: corporate espionage, MI6 leaks, and a “world-changing” tech conspiracy that sounds like it was dreamed up in a boardroom. Nuria, the Jackal’s wife, brings flashes of humanity—Úrsula Corberó plays her with warmth and quiet suspicion—but her scenes feel like detours from the main game. The pacing swings wildly: long stretches of exposition followed by sudden bursts of chaos. By the time the finale arrives, the show’s sleek confidence has frayed at the edges.


Themes Lost in the Noise

There’s ambition here, no doubt. The show tries to update Forsyth’s cold-war paranoia into something more modern—mixing commentary on inequality, surveillance, and the corruption of power. Charles Dance brings gravitas as the oily financier Timothy Winthrop, embodying the greed that fuels the whole system. But these ideas never quite click. They drift beneath the surface, buried under shootouts and spy jargon.

The Day of the Jackal toys with an intriguing moral tension—Is the Jackal just a weapon for hire, or is he quietly rebelling against the powerful men who built him? Unfortunately, those questions fade in favor of action set-pieces. Likewise, Bianca’s obsession could have been a mirror to his, showing how both sides of the chase are trapped by duty. Instead, we get one-dimensional speeches about justice and family. The show wants to say something profound about loyalty and control, but it rarely pauses long enough to mean it.

A man in a black coat aims a sniper rifle, poised to shoot.

Verdict: A Flawed but Watchable Adaptation

In the end, The Day of the Jackal is a strange creature—elegant, suspenseful, and slightly hollow. It’s a series that looks expensive and feels ambitious, yet often slips on its own sophistication. Eddie Redmayne owns every frame he’s in, carrying the story on sheer charisma, while the rest of the production struggles to keep up.

Still, it’s hard to call it a failure. When it clicks—when the tension tightens, when the visuals and silence do the talking—it’s electric. But too often, the show mistakes polish for depth and momentum for emotion. Stylish, yes. Entertaining, mostly. But like its assassin hero, it hits with precision while missing the heart.

Final Score: 3/5

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