As someone who watches an unhealthy amount of films, it’s not often I walk away from a screening thinking “What the hell did I just see?” Director Potsy Ponciroli’s Motor City is one of those rare exceptions. Ponciroli’s blood-soaked action thriller subverted my expectations, delivering the type of hard-hitting revenge saga that I didn’t know I needed.

It’s 1976, and Detroit has become the poster child for urban decay. The city looks like a warzone, lined with rundown buildings and trash-filled streets. A pervasive squalor has corrupted the city’s soul. Hustlers lurk on street corners looking for easy marks, while cops supplement their incomes by shaking people down.

Vietnam vet John Miller (Alan Ritchson) just wants to lead a normal life, even if he lives in America’s answer to Gotham City. He’s a rough-around-the-edges type of guy, but he starts to soften after a chance encounter with Sophia (Shailene Woodley). In a meet-cute out of hell, John rescues Sophia from her abusive boyfriend, Reynolds (Ben Foster). 

The couple fall head over heels in love, and it’s not long before John pops the big question. But on that special day, the SWAT team raids their home. Reynolds, holding a grudge after John stole his lady, tasks his goon, Savick (Pablo Schreiber), with framing him for drug possession. The SWAT team finds enough cocaine to put John in prison for 25 years.

Ruining John’s life isn’t enough for a bastard like Reynolds. So he taunts his incarcerated romantic rival, telling him that he’s back together with Sophia. The news pushes John over the edge, and he vows his revenge. He devises a plan to bust out of the joint, kill the man who framed him, and reclaim the love of his life.

Motor City is the rare film that’s both somehow derivative and unique. It hits all the beats you expect from this genre: a wronged protagonist, slimy villains you love rooting against, and brutally violent acts of revenge. It offers a simple but effective tale of vengeance, and it’s predictable to a fault. 

What sets this film apart from other action and crime films is that it’s practically a silent movie. The film features almost no dialogue. Between the broad characters and cliché plot, the film doesn’t need to spell things out through conversation. You always know what the characters want, why they want it, and what they’re willing to do to get it. 

Where things get interesting is Ponciroli’s orchestration of sound design, music, lighting, and editing to keep you locked in. A picture speaks a thousand words after all, especially as an on-the-nose needle drop hits to underscore John smashing some thug’s face through a table.

Motor City is one hell of a vibe movie. This film demands viewers surrender to its terms. You don’t watch it the way you’ve been conditioned to watch movies and TV. You have to sit up, pay attention, and ride the wave. It overwhelms you with sweeping tidal waves of sound and motion. You experience it in your chest (and your lizard brain). If anyone wanted to make the case that some films are closer to theme park rides, well, here’s Exhibit A.

So the big question here is: Does this conceit work? Mostly. It’s a gift to action flick junkies. If you marathon Tony Jaa films and can quote Sin City, then Merry freaking Christmas to you. But as much as I enjoyed Motor City, no one will confuse it with high art. It’s viscerally engaging if you’re looking to quench some cinematic bloodlust. But beneath the blood, sweat, and muscle cars, there’s not much going on. The characters are all cookie-cutter clichés. They’re easy to root for, but hard to love.

This failing speaks more to the featherweight script than the cast’s performances. I had a blast watching Ritchson kick ass all across the Motor City. He places the film on his inhumanly broad shoulders and runs with it. If ever there was a guy built to let his fists do the talking, it’s Ritchson. The guy looks like He-Man and She-Hulk had a love child. With his imposing physique and smouldering intensity, he brings John Miller to life with bloodthirsty delight.

On the flipside, Foster stands out as the all-caps SCUMBAG, Reynolds. No one has ever accused Foster of reigning it in too far for a role. But he goes all out here, even by his own standards. He somehow takes hamming it up to new levels, chewing the scenery without uttering a word.

In an era plagued by studios relying on safe bets, fewer filmmakers get chances to take a walk on the wild side. So Ponciroli’s joyfully unhinged tale of vengeance feels like a treat. His work here doesn’t offer a radical reinvention of the revenge flick, but its off-kilter energy places it in the same conversation as Sisu and Mandy. Motor City tackles this gritty genre with style and verve, offering violent action, larger-than-life characters, and vibes on vibes on vibes.

Motor City screened as part of the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. Head here to get all our That Shelf TIFF coverage.