The Union Review
The Union premeires August 16 on Netflix.
“All dressed up with nowhere to go is” an apt description for The Union, a shamefully safe, terribly unclever action-caper starring Mark Wahlberg as a flighty construction worker and Halle Berry as his former high school flame who now works for a secret spy agency. Rather than provide genuine laughs or palpable thrills, The Union instead checks off boxes, unspooling a bland, predictable movie while wasting its stars, budget, and foreign locations. The fact that this forgettable flub filmed in the streets of England and Italy is a testament to Netflix’s drive to to overpay for fugazis while producing empty-calorie entertainment fit for falling asleep to.
No one’s necessarily off their game here. Wahlberg is sufficient as a fish out of water, Berry is good as a kickass blast from his past that shakes up his life, and J.K. Simmons, you know, does his thing. Its problem is more that it has virtually nothing to offer that we haven’t seen done far better a hundred times before, and it’s presented obnoxiously.
In recent years, the meme-o-verse has taken the MCU to task for what many feel is cut-and-paste, “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” humor, but The Union is truly the epitome of that low-hanging banter trend. It even comes with a, “He’s so broke, he can’t pay attention” line, which is a quip from (at least) 50 years ago.
Oh, and don’t worry: someone also says, “I guess we should call this the REunion” when highlighting Wahlberg and Berry’s characters rekindling their flame after decades apart. This movie will hold your hand through everything, surprise you with nothing, and leave you wanting less.
Everything on screen, from action to characters arcs, is only as functional as it needs to be in order to technically form a movie. There are times too where one can actually feel a hard and rigid ceiling of quality blocking The Union from ever excelling at anything, because, truth be told, underneath the aggressive mediocrity is an interesting premise that might actually have worked under different circumstances.
The Union is centered around a clandestine espionage agency filled with blue collar workers. The people who “get s*** done,” according to the trailer-made speech delivered by J.K. Simmons – people with street smarts who can blend into the streets rather than stand out. This concept is only ever lightly explored, though, leaving it as a potential foundation for another movie that actually wants to deliver a funky, fresh take on the genre.
This clock-punching, lunchpail life is what makes Wahlberg’s Mike perfect in the eyes of his ex for a last-minute fill-in gig involving a – you’ll never guess… a stolen list of secret operatives! Everything that has supposedly held Mike back in life – despite him feeling rather content living with his mother in Paterson, New Jersey – is now suddenly a boon as he’s basically plucked out of his trappings (kidnapped, actually), dumped in London, and given a crash course in James Bond skills.
Again, there was possibly some good stuff to mine with the Union faction being filled with under-appreciated outdoor laborers, but the movie chooses to focus more on an undercooked lost-and-found romance story between its leads instead, while overstaying its welcome by a solid 20 minutes. It also hits us with a rather tired starter story: the mole. A secret enemy sabotaging operation from within (who, unsurprisingly, is easy to peg due to obvious casting).
At times, it seems that The Union wants to flash its fangs and be an edgy thriller. Most of it, however, plays like a genial, timid time-waster that’s too afraid to take any risks or cause any ripples.
It simply refuses to do anything that hasn’t been done before.
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