Close Range

Scott Adkins moves like a man who's been trained to destroy, and Close Range lets him loose in a desert standoff that recalls the gritty, economical revenge thrillers of the '80s—think First Blood meets the brutal practicality of a Soderbergh crime film. When a rogue soldier is forced to go to war against a corrupt sheriff and a drug cartel to save his sister, the film doesn't waste a second of its lean 80 minutes setting up the stakes. Adkins' physicality is the real story here: every punch, every evasion, every moment of quiet desperation carries weight.

The pacing is relentless in the best way. Director Isaac Florentine builds tension through tight framing and geography—you always know where danger is coming from and why it matters. This isn't slick prestige television; it's scrappy, direct, and unapologetically committed to action over exposition. The tone sits somewhere between Hell or High Water and vintage Jean-Claude Van Damme, all dust and desperation with no room for sentiment.

If you're hungry for a revenge thriller that respects your time and delivers on its premise without bloat, Close Range is your answer. This is the kind of film that builds a cult following because it knows exactly what it is and executes with precision. You'll be rewinding the hand-to-hand sequences for weeks.