Chaos and Chuckles: Alarum Unleashes Michael Polish’s Action Misadventure

Alarum, released January 17, 2025, in theaters and on-demand via Lionsgate, is an action-crime-thriller that promised chaos but delivers a muddled misfire. Directed by Michael Polish, known for quirky indies like Northfork, this $20 million flick stars Scott Eastwood and Willa Fitzgerald as Joe and Lara Travers, rogue spies who’ve gone off-grid to marry. Their honeymoon at a snowy cabin resort turns into a bullet-riddled mess when intelligence agencies—suspecting they’ve joined a shadowy group called Alarum—hunt them for a stolen hard drive dubbed the “flight pill.” Enter Sylvester Stallone as Chester, a grizzled ex-colleague, and Mike Colter as Orin, a menacing mercenary, and you’ve got a recipe for high-octane chaos. Except, it’s not.

The plot kicks off with a crash—literally. Joe stumbles on the drive while investigating a wreck, sparking a multi-agency siege. Lara, secretly tied to Alarum, fights separately, their reunion a distant goal amid gunfire and explosions. Polish aims for a Mr. & Mrs. Smith-style romp with a grittier edge, but the script by Alexander Vesha is a tangle of spy clichés and convoluted twists. Critics have panned its predictability and lack of coherence—Roger Ebert’s Peter Sobczynski called it “overly confusing and wildly predictable at the same time.” The chaos is there, with shootouts and car chases aplenty, but it’s a joyless slog, missing the chuckles that could’ve lifted it.

Visually, shot in Ohio’s Hueston Woods State Park, it’s a mixed bag. Snowy exteriors clash with dimly lit interiors, and the CGI—think fake blood and choppy explosions—feels cheap despite the budget. Early buzz hyped Stallone and Eastwood’s star power, but the execution falters. Alarum wants to be a chaotic thrill ride; instead, it’s a disjointed stumble that leaves you wondering why these talents signed on.

The cast is Alarum’s biggest draw, yet they’re stranded in a sinking ship. Scott Eastwood’s Joe Travers is a stoic action hero with a furrowed brow, swinging fists and firing guns with competence but little spark. He’s meant to anchor the chaos, but his wooden delivery—praised in Fury—feels flat here, lacking the charm to sell the rogue-spy vibe. Willa Fitzgerald’s Lara fares better, bringing grit and poise after her standout Strange Darling role. Her action scenes pop, but the script gives her little beyond “tough wife with secrets,” squandering her potential for humor or depth.

Sylvester Stallone’s Chester is the wildcard fans hoped would ignite the film. Playing a seasoned agent with a soft spot for Joe, he’s got the charisma—growling lines and smirking through carnage—but he’s underused. Critics like Sobczynski lament his “going through the motions,” a paycheck gig echoing Bruce Willis’ late DTV days. Mike Colter’s Orin, leading a mercenary crew, oozes menace with his Luke Cage physicality, but his role’s one-note: scowl, shoot, repeat. Supporting players like D.W. Moffett (a stiff agency boss) and Ísis Valverde (a Brazilian operative who vanishes after five minutes) feel like afterthoughts, their quirks drowned in the chaos.

The ensemble could’ve sparked chuckles—imagine Stallone riffing with Eastwood or Fitzgerald bantering through a firefight—but Polish opts for grim seriousness. The result is a cast of heavy hitters swinging at air, their chemistry lost in a script that prioritizes explosions over personality. It’s chaotic, sure, but the laughs are nowhere to be found.

Alarum’s look and sound aim for gritty chaos but land in mediocrity. Cinematography by Jayson Crothers leans on snowy vistas and tight cabin shots, but the lighting’s a mess—murky interiors make action hard to follow, a sin for a thriller. The chaos comes through in frequent shootouts and a car chase or two, staged with pedestrian flair per Variety’s Dennis Harvey. Practical effects (guns, squibs) are decent, but the CGI—shoddy explosions and laughably fake blood—undercuts any tension. For a film hyped as “explosive,” it’s oddly restrained, favoring talky standoffs over spectacle.

The score, by Sacha Chaban, is a generic pulse of synths and drums, chasing Hans Zimmer’s Bourne vibes without the punch. Sound design—gunshots, crashes—lacks heft, and there’s no standout track to lift the mood. Compare this to Pirates of the Caribbean’s soaring themes or even Happy Gilmore’s goofy anthems; Alarum feels muted. The chaos is loud but uninspired, and the chuckles? Absent—no quirky needle drops or playful cues to break the monotony.

Polish, once a visionary, seems adrift in this B-movie mire. Critics note his indie flair’s gone, replaced by a by-the-numbers approach that can’t mask the low-rent feel. It’s a visual and sonic letdown, a chaotic shell with no soul—or humor—to sustain it.

Alarum’s promise was chaos with a wink, but it’s a dour dud. Strengths are few: Fitzgerald’s tenacity shines, and Stallone’s brief bursts of charm hint at what could’ve been. The premise—married spies on the run—had potential for a fun, frantic ride, but it’s buried under a script that’s “creatively bankrupt,” per Culture Mix’s Carla Hay. The action’s there, yet it’s forgettable—Collider’s Jeff Ewing calls it a “genuine disappointment” for wasting its cast. Chaos abounds, but without coherence or levity, it’s exhausting, not exhilarating.

Weaknesses dominate. The plot’s a mess, juggling too many factions (CIA, mercenaries, Alarum) without clarity. Stallone’s phoned-in turn depresses, and Eastwood’s lack of charisma drags it further. Pacing falters—talky bits bore, action bits underwhelm—and the abrupt ending feels lazy, as Mark Reviews Movies notes. Critics universally slam its lack of fun; Spectrum Culture calls it “cheap” and “convoluted.” Even the Ohio tax credit and star power can’t save it from a 0% Rotten Tomatoes score (as of early reviews).

Legacy-wise, Alarum’s a blip—Stallone’s nadir, perhaps, and a misstep for Polish. It’s no franchise starter, just a DTV footnote. I’d rate it a generous 3/10—chaos without chuckles, a misadventure that squanders its shot. For action fans, it’s a skip; for Stallone diehards, a sad curiosity.