A week before the release of the spy thriller Argylle, musician Boy George and West Side Story Oscar winner Ariana DeBose (who also appears in the film) released a video for the movie’s single, “Electric Energy.”  The song, a funk-disco throwback collaboration with Nile Rodgers, had a fun vibe, but the video was a real head-scratcher. Clearly filmed quickly to accommodate busy schedules, it featured the cast lip-synching the words DeBose and Boy George were singing, with the occasional cutaways to the artists doing the heavy lifting. The tune spoke of wanting “your electric energy,” but no one (save for DeBose, who never gives less than 248%) was making much of a spark with many competing to see who could phone it in more effectively.

In retrospect, that should have been the first warning we were in trouble with Argylle, one of the sloppiest excuses for a studio release I’ve ever seen. It’s so bad that it took two major studios (Universal and Apple) to collaborate on funding. Where all that money went is beyond me because director Matthew Vaughn’s attempt to reclaim some of the magic he created in 2010’s Kick-Ass and over three memorable movies in the Kingsman franchise (in 2014, 2017, and 2021) vanishes almost as quickly as most of the actors featured prominently on the poster.  (There’s some shameful marketing going on here). It’s less a film and more a cinematic calamity.

Penned by Jason Fuchs, the script of Argylle is a hodgepodge of spy clichés stitched together with the finesse of a toddler’s first attempt at sewing. It’s as if the screenplay was written on a dare, challenging how many spy movie tropes could be crammed into one script without it exploding. Who exactly is Agent Argylle? Well, that’s hard to explain fully without drifting into slightly spoiler-y territory, but the previews have at least revealed that Henry Cavill plays the titular character, a literary creation by novelist Elly Conway (Bryce Dallas Howard, Jurassic World).  Enjoying the success of a fourth Argylle adventure while finishing the fifth, she’s on a train to visit family (with her Scottish Fold kitty Alfie in tow) when Aidan (Sam Rockwell, See How They Run) cozies up to her and puts her on a deadly detour.

While Fuchs (Wonder Woman) attempts to create an intricate web of espionage, double-crosses, and shifting allegiances, Vaughn’s inability to settle on a tone moves Argylle’s secrets from cunning to convoluted, leaving the audience struggling to piece together the plot. While complexity can be a genre hallmark, Argylle’s script often feels tangled, leaving viewers grappling with a narrative puzzle that could have benefited from more clarity and coherence. I spent the first hour of the movie waiting for an outside force to interject and reveal there was a purpose to this ‘badness’, but alas, the major twist arrives, and it’s eerily reminiscent of other movies (thematically, Argylle can be likened to a lovechild of The Lost City and The Long Kiss Goodnight) that have pulled off switchbacks and rug pulls with more finesse.

Howard’s portrayal of mousy author Elly is like watching a lioness attempt to be a mouse. In a casting choice more puzzling than a cat trying to play poker, Howard’s talent is squandered on a character whose most notable skill is blending into the wallpaper. If espionage required invisibility, she’d be a double agent extraordinaire. Appearing to have wandered onto the set looking for the exit, Rockwell’s comedic timing, a hallmark of his previous roles, is lost in a sea of poorly written lines and awkward grasps at drama. It’s a shame to see a talented actor flounder like a fish out of water, desperately gasping for relevance. Cavill (Man of Steel), the man who brought Superman to life, tries to channel his inner spy, but instead, he delivers a performance as riveting as a lecture on paint drying. The charisma he displayed in his superhero garb is suspiciously absent (along with a sleek haircut), leaving audiences to wonder if Argylle’s superpower induces boredom.

Dua Lipa, cast as the mysterious LaGrange, proves that singing “Don’t Start Now” doesn’t necessarily translate to acting that should be started at all. Her mysterious allure feels like a confused game of hide-and-seek, where nobody bothered to explain the rules. Bryan Cranston (Trumbo), an actor capable of brilliance, is here reduced to a caricature, his talents squandered alongside Catherine O’Hara (Beetlejuice), who at one point employs an English accent that is so off the mark I made a note to check YouTube for her early work on SCTV to see if she recycled it from that sketch comedy show. Even the cat doesn’t get much to do, with most of his screen time taken by a CGI rendering that looks like it was outsourced to a high school AV club.

Now is as good a time as any to say the technical aspects of Argylle fare no better than the script shenanigans. The CGI effects fall woefully short of the mark, undermining the film’s potential for visual spectacle. The poorly rendered explosions and artificial environments distract the audience from the immersive experience that a spy thriller demands. For a project with such a substantial budget and the backing of Universal Pictures and Apple Original Films, one would have expected a more polished and seamless integration of CGI. By the time Vaughn does decide to pull all the stops out, it’s with two wild sequences near the end that are so phony-looking, with computer models/doubles standing in for the actors, that you might as well be watching an animated film.

And the music – oh, the music. Vaughn’s attempts to pair high-energy action with the perfect musical accompaniment are off-key. Overused to exhaustion, the “needle-drop” technique leaves viewers yearning for a soundtrack that doesn’t play out like a mixtape assembled by a teenager on a sugar rush. Every fight sequence is set to a disco-adjacent tune that doesn’t fit the mood or the action taking place; it just feels like a song Vaughn liked and wanted to include for the heck of it. They even squander the original music created for the film, “Electric Energy,” using it for a random shoot-out instead of during one of the showcase set pieces. Though I love the Leona Lewis version of Snow Patrol’s “Run,” it, too, is placed in the entirely wrong part of the film.

The film’s runtime is another baffling decision. Clocking in at close to two and a half hours, Argylle’s convoluted plot would have been forgiven if it didn’t drag on, leaving audiences fidgeting in their seats, wondering if they’ve accidentally entered a time vortex. An extended finale feels never-ending, with Vaughn stretching out yet another insipid fight sequence that doesn’t dazzle or thrill as if it’s some grand battle. Without any memorable villain (or at least a tricky henchman/woman to throw a few sharp wrenches in the way of our heroes), the stakes couldn’t be lower.

Functioning as an exercise in patience and a test of endurance, Argylle is less a spy film and more a cautionary tale about the perils of assembling a talented cast in a directionless project. It’s a bewildering experience, if not an outright masterclass in missed opportunities, that makes you question the choices of everyone involved – from the actors who signed on to the director who thought this mishmash of mediocrity was a good idea. Rated PG-13 and almost completely bloodless (a rarity in Vaughn’s violent oeuvre so far), the violence is meant to be comical, but expect mostly silent crowds if you choose to accept this mission. Save yourself the agony and embark on a real-life espionage mission to recover the time wasted on this forgettable film.