Ben Affleck’s Animals lands in theatres this Friday, and it arrives with the kind of premise that should’ve been a full-throttle thriller: a mayoral candidate kidnapped in LA, a ransom demand, a night of escalating tension. Instead, it unfolds like a slow exhale. The film’s biggest misstep isn’t its pacing — it’s its refusal to let anyone bleed. Mark Kimball (Affleck) survives every choice he makes, not because he’s clever, but because the script treats him like an unkillable protagonist in a video game. He lies, he panics, he makes bad calls, yet somehow walks away unscathed. That’s not survival. That’s narrative immunity. And it kills the stakes. The film wants to be about human instinct under pressure, but it never lets its characters fail. Not really. Not even once. Even when his wife is terrified, Abigail (Kerry Washington), her pain feels choreographed, not raw. Washington delivers quietly, with precision. The way she shifts her weight or holds a glance says more than any line could. But even her performance can’t salvage a story where consequences are optional. Gillian Anderson plays Dayle Burton, a shadowy fixer who guides Mark through the crisis. She’s supposed to be mysterious, but ends up feeling like a plot device with a name. Her dialogue is flat, her motives unclear. The film throws in immigrant rights, racism, classism, sexual harassment, all relevant topics. But they’re tacked on like afterthoughts. They don’t feed into the central conflict. They just sit there, waiting for someone to care. Luis Gerardo Méndez as Ramon, the undocumented maid’s husband, is the closest thing to a real emotional anchor. His fear is quiet, grounded. He doesn’t get a redemption arc. He just exists in the margins, which is exactly where the film leaves him. The villain? A faceless figure whose motivation is tied to Mark’s political stance. But we never see him. Never hear him. No motive beyond ‘he hates minorities.’ That’s not a threat. That’s a label. And without a real antagonist, the film’s central idea, what happens when humans revert to animal instincts. Falls flat. It’s not about survival. It’s about control. And the only one in control is the screenwriter. So yes, Animals has moments. Washington’s restraint. Méndez’s presence. A few tense scenes that almost work. But they’re buried under a script that refuses to take risks. The film wanted to be a mirror. It ended up being a reflection of nothing. Now, the question isn’t whether it’s good. It’s whether audiences will stay for the ride, or leave before the first twist.