Good Kill

In a sleek, sun‑baked desert outpost just outside Las Vegas, the modern battlefield has been compressed into a bank of screens and a pair of joysticks. Here, the distant echo of jet engines has been replaced by the low hum of a drone’s rotors, and the line between combat and observation blurs beneath the glare of satellite feeds. The film watches this quiet haven of technology pulse with the quiet dread of wars fought from afar, where every click can shape a life thousands of miles away.

At the centre of this unsettling equilibrium sits Thomas Egan, a decorated Air Force veteran whose career once roared through the sky in an F‑16 before transitioning to the precise, detached world of MQ‑9 Reaper operations. His reputation for calm efficiency makes him a linchpin in a squadron that values both skill and restraint, yet the very controls that grant him distance also whisper doubts about the humanity behind each mission. At home, Jane—his wife—offers a sanctuary of ordinary suburban rhythm, a stark contrast to the sterile theater of drones that consumes his daylight hours. Their relationship teeters on the edge of the same tension that defines his work, hinting at an unspoken battle between duty and domestic peace.

The atmosphere is a study in muted colors and quiet anxieties, where the sleek interface of technology clashes with the raw, often invisible consequences of remote warfare. A careful blend of procedural cadence and psychological unease draws the viewer into a world where the protagonist must reconcile his mastery of the skies with the growing weight of ethical uncertainty. The film invites contemplation of how modern combat reshapes identity, responsibility, and the simple desire to return home unchanged.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 04:36