Director: Ben Fortune
Screenplay: Robert Dunn, James Smy, Bob Schultz, Simon Cluett
Starring: Jeanine Nerissa Sothcott, Ian Ogilvy, Geoffrey Moore, Nick Moran, Michael Paré, Robert Cavanah
Country: United Kingdom
Running Time: 82 minutes
Year: 2026
Knightfall is appalling. This isn’t the kind of bad film that you can laugh at before you even see it, like a Sharknado or Velocipastor. That last one is so cheap, it has screencards describing the visual effects they couldn’t afford. Knightfall shows none of even that level of creativity. It’s digital landfill, nothing more. A step below the little dramatised bits in corporate training videos about how to avoid phishing emails.
None of these kinds of films really deserve your cash -they’re probably profitable before release at this budget- but if you do catch us browsing a supermarket shelf with a fiver burning in our pockets, or doom-scrolling Sky store, at least do something with our time. This thing is reheating old spy narratives and none of it is remotely convincing. Slow Horses, Spooks, The Night Manager sort of stuff. Black ops, double-crossing spy units in big cars and cool caps. Knightfall has all of that minus anything approaching talent or quality getting in the way. Imagine Skyfall filmed in a Premier Inn car park and an empty beige flat over a takeaway. Mrs Bond’s Boys, if you will, wearing cosplay tactical gear.
There is the merest skidmark, I mean, a sliver, of something respectful thanks to Ian Ogilvy, but how he makes it out of this tripe with any integrity at all, I don’t know. There’s a scene where he’s captured and tied up; I’d like to think this is how they got him in the film and only untied him when he promised to phone in a few more scenes. Problem is, it seems he and the rest of the cast are regulars in this sort of junk. Still, Ogilvy has a natural trans-Atlantic charm, the kind of charm that earned him the role of Simon Templar in Return of The Saint, picking up from Roger Moore. In any other project, Ogilvy starring with Moore’s son all these years later would be cosmic serendipity, except Moore Jr. inherited none of his dad’s movie star class. His role here is laughably odd and he may even give you the ick, while he reads lines like he’s trying to work out if his bag of oven chips will be ok in an Air Fryer.
Really, don’t feel you should watch this rubbish. 82 minutes doesn’t sound like a lot, but, I don’t know, you could watch about 11 episodes of Bluey. Or reorganize your kitchen cupboard. Either option delivers more coherent plot development, better dialogue, and no risk of catching Geoffrey lurking around a car park.
