Man on Fire (2026)

When it comes to expanding movies into (in this case) a seven-episode series, more can often be less.

The cast is sound, and the narrative is just as solid as any other in the genre. Yet, because the series never deviates from what is expected, it never rises to the level of being distinct or exceptional.

It’s not a non-stop cavalcade of action: it regularly relents for extended, talky scenes concerning Creasy’s instability or Poe’s grief. Sometimes the combination is powerful. .... Man on Fire’s glowering intensity is, however, hard to take seriously.

Mateen is excellent casting for this, as he is for pretty much everything he's done lately. There are isolated moments where you understand why someone might want to build a new version of this title around him. But some stories — many stories, it turns out, based on the number of similarly sluggish streaming dramas of the past decade — aren't meant to fill this many hours of filmed entertainment.

Emmy winner Yahya Abdul-Mateen II gives his all to a wincingly violent action series that simply doesn’t deserve him.

Stretching its source in ways that are unoriginal and insufferable, it stands as proof positive of this streaming strategy’s misguidedness.

Adaptations are meant to breathe new life into stories that once charmed or intrigued audiences, bringing them to new audiences. Instead of achieving this, “Man on Fire” unfortunately turns out to be another case of pondering the existence of an adaptation entirely.

It’s a weirdly upbeat, disappointingly bland set-up for an ongoing series about a damaged mercenary and his unlikely, poorly developed Scooby Gang. Accepted on those limitedly aspirational and rarely convincing terms, but few others, it succeeds.

Netflix’s “Man on Fire” tries to cop the movie’s scorched-earth attitude without justifying where it stems from. In doing so, it wastes its lead’s talents, and snuffs out its I.P.’s brightest embers. Any future remakes won’t be drawing from this fire.