Matt Damon and Ben Affleck Can’t Save ‘The Rip’ From Netflix

Why Netflix’s storytelling approach for dummies hurts The Rip?

I was excited to watch The Rip (2026) for multiple, very obvious reasons. It stars Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, and to my surprise, Sasha Calle was also part of the cast. I had no idea she was in the film, so seeing her on screen again felt genuinely good. She has been away for a while, and it hurt a little to see her in a supporting role when she clearly has the presence, aura, and raw intensity to lead a film.

She is the best Supergirl, in my opinion. Every time I see new Supergirl news or promos while Sasha Calle is sidelined, it stings. She proved her capability in The Flash, and I truly hope The Rip helps her land the kind of lead roles that actually justify her talent and screen power.

Now, coming back to the film itself. My initial excitement was driven by the cast, but as the movie progressed, I became more invested in Joe Carnahan’s direction. The way he shot and presented the film is striking. The cold opening alone pulls you in immediately and makes you curious about where the story is heading. 

The first half of the movie is easily the strongest part. It focuses on setup and character introductions, but the execution is so confident and atmospheric that it creates intrigue without spoon-feeding the audience. It feels authentic, fresh, and original. Not because the premise is revolutionary, but because of how it is presented. 

Visually and tonally, The Rip delivers a genuinely cinematic experience. You can feel the passion behind it, which makes what happens later even more frustrating.

Because this is a movie that was butchered by Netflix.

Netflix’s obsession with second-screen viewing completely sabotages the film. The constant need to explain everything through repetitive flashbacks and overexposed dialogue is exhausting. Scenes you already watched are replayed. Information you already understood is restated again and again, as if the audience is incapable of paying attention for more than ten seconds.

If Netflix insists on doing this, they should honestly create a separate genre labeled something like “background noise cinema.” At least then expectations would be clear. And the painful truth is, even if The Rip were shoved into that category, I still would have watched it because of the cast and the strength of its first two acts.

But the third act is where the movie completely collapses.

The climax turns into an unbearable exposition dump, with Matt Damon’s character explaining everything that absolutely did not need explaining. By that point, I was fully engaged and paying attention. I didn’t need the film to hold my hand. But clearly, I am not Netflix’s target audience, and honestly, I’m fine with that.

What I’m not fine with is seeing a well-directed, well-acted, visually stylish movie reduced to boredom because a platform assumes its viewers are incapable of following a story. It’s genuinely sad. And it’s scary too, especially when you think about upcoming HBO and WB projects that are going to be absorbed into this same Netflix-style mindset.

Because if this is how they treat a film with this much potential, then cinema itself is the thing that gets ripped.

Before the explosion of exposition completely derailed The Rip, the movie was genuinely working for me. The cold opening with Matt Damon immediately pulled me in, but what really sealed my interest was the intense, mysterious scene that comes before the second title card. Velez stands out instantly. She feels like the only honest cop in her department, warning an informant not to trust any other officer.

That entire conversation is brilliantly shot and lit. It relies more on voice acting than physical performance, and yet it carries immense weight. There’s tension, paranoia, and dread baked into every line. That scene alone made me lean forward. It made me curious. It made me want to know more. 

Velez may have limited screen time, but her role is crucial. She is the cornerstone of the story. The film portrays her as brave and fearless, especially during the action sequence, and her presence leaves a strong impression despite her short runtime.

The editing of the film, particularly in the first half, is also extremely impressive. While characters are being introduced and an internal department investigation unfolds, the movie juggles multiple dialogue-heavy scenes and cuts between characters with precision. 

The intercutting is meticulous and smart. It never feels messy or confusing. Instead, it builds intrigue and deepens the mystery. This is where The Rip truly shines technically. If Netflix hadn’t interfered, this film could have been something special, because the craftsmanship and performances are clearly there.

The characterization of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck is another strong point. On paper, these are familiar archetypes. Rugged cops. Grief-stricken. Burnt out. We’ve seen these characters a thousand times before. Yet the direction and performances elevate them beyond clichés. They feel believable, lived-in, and distinct from each other.

Matt Damon’s character is drowning in personal grief and slowly losing interest in his job. Ben Affleck’s character is also grieving, but unlike Matt, he can’t suppress it. His pain is more visible, more physical, more explosive. Ben’s character is physically intimidating yet mostly calm, while Matt’s character feels like pure pressure. One angry look from him is enough to give you chills.

The film does a great job portraying their friendship. You believe they rely on each other. You believe they trust each other. And when the second half begins and the story flips into a situation where no one can be trusted, those cracks in their bond feel natural and painful. The idea that even your best friend might not be safe is handled really well, at least initially.

If I ignore a few overly obvious hints that suggest where the story might be headed, the first two acts handle mystery and suspense beautifully. The sense of mistrust is strong. You genuinely don’t know who the real villain is. One of the villains worked really well for me, but the true mastermind behind everything completely failed to land.

The buildup promised a storm. What we got was a lecture.

When the reveal finally comes, it’s drowned in back-to-back flashbacks and exhausting exposition. Instead of hitting like a punch, it lands like a slideshow. That moment should have recontextualized everything. Instead, it sucked the life out of it. After two strong acts of slow-burning tension, the payoff feels hollow. And because the reveal doesn’t hit, it retroactively makes those excellent earlier acts feel wasted.

The Rip (2026) Review Conclusion:

Netflix clearly thinks it knows its audience very well. As if millions of viewers around the world are incapable of paying attention for two full acts of a movie, so the third act has to be spoon-fed like a bedtime summary for a five-year-old. If that’s really the strategy, then why even make 90-minute films? Just release 30-minute summary movies and be done with it, so people like me don’t walk in with excitement, expectations, and trust in the storytelling.

Because The Rip had everything going for it. The technical craft is solid. The direction is confident. The performances are strong. The Matt Damon and Ben Affleck collaboration works beautifully. The first two acts prove that this movie had the potential to be something special, something rewatchable. But the climax single-handedly ruins that goodwill. Netflix’s interference turns a slow-burning, atmospheric thriller into an over-explained, exhausting mess that feels completely disconnected from what came before.

With full creative freedom, The Rip could have been a genuinely great film. Instead, the third act drags it down so hard that it reshapes the entire experience. The ending is such a disappointment that if I ever rewatch The Rip, I already know I’ll stop before the climax. And that’s the saddest part.

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