The Equalizer

So let's talk about The Equalizer, the 2014 movie starring Denzel Washington. On paper, it looks like a basic, tough-guy-versus-the-mob action flick. Denzel plays Robert McCall, a quiet loner who works at a hardware store in Boston and reads literary classics in diners at 2 a.m. The setup feels like it should be in the “Generic Vigilante #12” bin, but I was surprised how much Denzel’s presence elevated even the slowest moments. The story kicks off when McCall befriends Teri (Chloë Grace Moretz), a young woman trapped in the Russian mafia’s orbit. He promises he’s left his violent past behind but, obviously, you know he’s not going to keep that vow once things go sideways.

I have to say, Denzel brings a very specific vibe here. He’s calm, meticulous, and effortless—almost too calm, sometimes. I wouldn't say his performance is subtle but it works. He makes the movie feel a notch above your usual action fare. He finds these little quiet gestures, like how he lines up his napkin or scans a room, that make you believe he could end any threat in ten seconds flat. Moretz, unfortunately, doesn't get enough screen time. She has some haunting moments early on and her dynamic with Denzel is great, but she basically vanishes after the first act, which is kind of a missed opportunity for emotional depth.

What kept me hooked the most was Antoine Fuqua’s direction and the way the movie is shot. There’s just something tactile about the way violence is handled—nothing feels cartoonish. Every hit or stab has a real crunch, and the camera lingers on just enough to let you register the consequences, but not so much that it feels exploitative. The lighting is moody and urban, with lots of rainy streets and half-lit rooms. It gives Boston a shadowy, lived-in quality that a lot of other action movies miss. Fuqua loves to move the camera slowly, almost like he’s inviting you inside McCall's headspace.

Where the film drops the ball for me is in its pacing, especially in the middle stretch. After McCall’s initial bout of justice, the movie sort of stalls. There's a bit too much cat-and-mouse posturing between McCall and the Russian villains, who, to be honest, are pretty one-note. Marton Csokas plays the main bad guy Teddy with a kind of slick menace, but the “psychotic Russian gangster” schtick feels stale after a while. For a movie that's over two hours, I felt the drag during those repetitive scenes where McCall shows up just in time to save the day—again.

Another issue is the obviousness in some of its themes. The Equalizer wants to be about second chances, quiet dignity, and how one man can stand up for the little guy. But it tells you that, often and loudly. There’s minimal subtext here. When Denzel’s McCall quotes Hemingway and talks about “putting the world right one tiny piece at a time,” you kind of wish the script would let up and let the visual storytelling breathe. It’s almost like the movie doesn’t trust you to get the point without holding your hand.

But credit where it’s due: the action set pieces are genuinely inventive. There’s a climactic showdown inside a Home Depot-like store that could have been ridiculous, but it actually feels clever. McCall uses whatever’s at hand—power tools, brooms, a nail gun—as weapons. It’s almost like Die Hard for the age of Pinterest dads. The violence is brutal but has a weird poetry to it. You never doubt for a second that McCall is always ten steps ahead.

The score—by Harry Gregson-Williams—is mostly forgettable except during the action scenes, when it turns pulsing and adds a layer of stakes. Same goes for the dialogue, which is full of clichés but occasionally lands a moment of real pathos. The whole thing would probably fall apart if it weren’t for Denzel’s charisma gluing every piece together. There's just enough weight in his eyes to make you care.

In the end, The Equalizer is really a Denzel showcase masquerading as an action movie. When he’s on screen, it’s riveting. When he’s not, you realize how thin the plotting and character work really are. It never becomes great art, but it never feels phoned-in either. The violence is genuinely intense, the atmosphere is thick, and even when the plot sags, there’s this confident, old-school swagger sticking everything together.