Following the 2004 film, Netflix brings the character of John Creasy back to the screen in an adaptation that is looser and more superficial than expected
Netflix and Kyle Killen (Awake, Halo) are revisiting the character created by A. J. Quinnell and brought to the big screen by Tony Scott in the film of the same name starring Denzel Washington, to bring Man on Fire to life. The series, available on the platform starting April 30, adapts the story of the former special forces mercenary turned security agent in a foreign land into seven episodes, introducing, however, substantial changes. Set in a Brazil rife with corruption, international intrigue, and terrorists, the series presents a version only loosely based on the original story, rewriting the character of John Creasy, his motivations, and his painful journey of revenge and redemption.
Produced by Regency and directed, among others, by Steven Caple Jr. and Michael Cuesta, Man on Fire thus becomes, for better or worse, something different from what came before it. A series halfway between a classic spy story, an international thriller, and a drama—this time more superficial and restrained—it is as far removed from the essence of the novel as it is from the edgy, frenetic style of Scott’s film. A middle ground that proves to be an effective thriller overall, albeit one that falls short of the complexity and depth it could have had—that of a story about shared trauma and the need to return to humanity.
Plot – Man on Fire Review
Four years after a disastrous operation in Mexico City that ended with the death of his entire team, John Creasy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II from Wonder Man) has left the special forces, tormented by guilt and a form of post-traumatic stress disorder that’s hard to overcome. Things change, however, when Paul Rayburn (Bobby Cannavale), his friend and superior from his army days, contacts him about a security job in Brazil. There, Creasy is welcomed by Paul, his wife, and their children, including the teenager Poe (Billie Boullet).
The job, however, is more complicated than expected. The company Paul works for is, in fact, directly controlled by the country’s president, an autocrat obsessed with the terrorist threat posed by an armed group that seems untraceable and increasingly dangerous. Could this very organization be behind the attack that will turn Creasy’s life upside down, from that moment on inextricably linked to the fate of young Poe?
A Betrayed Complexity
The TV series adaptation of Man on Fire chooses to take a completely different path. It does so by retaining only the initial premise of the novel and the film while drastically altering the plot’s development. This substantial difference affects the very essence of the story and the arc of its protagonist. Whereas in the novel and in the film starring Denzel Washington, Creasy found a reason to live again thanks to little Pita, for whom he served as a bodyguard, and it was precisely her kidnapping and (presumed) murder that unleashed his fury, here there is no actual kidnapping, and the protagonist’s slow return to life seems more superficial and emotionally less engaging than one might have expected.
A seemingly minor change, but one that in reality profoundly rewrites the character convincingly portrayed by Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, redefining his role and motivations. Here, too, Creasy finds a reason to fight (the death of his best friend and the need to protect Poe), bringing out both the best (his gradually deepening relationship with the girl) and the worst in himself (torture, kidnappings). But this ambiguity, while initially presented as a legitimate issue, is soon set aside in favor of a far more traditional narrative arc, one that falls short of the complexity of its premises.
Between Accumulation and Superficiality
In this Man on Fire – Thirst for Revenge, the series doesn’t stray far from a classic international thriller made up of action elements and spy story scenarios. A plot packed with political intrigue (perhaps drawing from the novel, set in Italy during the Years of Lead), double-crosses, and violence that sets aside the tormented complexity of its protagonist in favor of a more superficial, innocuous, and predictable narrative.
It is precisely the way themes such as trauma, redemption, and a sense of belonging are handled that fails to fully convince. Compounded by a plot that, from the second half of the season onward, seems based on a piling-on of events (prison breaks, robberies, biological attacks, shootouts) and on situations that become increasingly implausible (the diverse and unlikely group that helps Creasy), Man on Fire, in fact, seems to give rise to a solid but decidedly derivative story that prefers superficiality to psychological depth, the jumble of events to emotional development.
A Conventional Thriller
Drawing inspiration from recent hit series like Jack Ryan, the show thus abandons the feverish aesthetic and hyper-energetic style of Scott’s film in favor of a more traditional product that aligns with Netflix’s typical offerings. In Man on Fire, everything expands, fragments, and amplifies into a narrative that—by introducing many more characters and expanding into a full-fledged ensemble thriller—loses precisely the immediacy that made the film a success.
The longer runtime (with episodes nearing an hour) in fact, does not translate into greater psychological or thematic depth, but rather gives the impression of watering down and padding out a story whose greatest strength lay precisely in its simplicity and linearity (the relationship between a broken man and a young girl in danger, and the parallel path that emerged between revenge and redemption). A shame for an adaptation that is solid in its own way, featuring strong performances and effective action sequences, yet unable to live up to its own promise.
