Netflix's Man on Fire can't match the Denzel Washington film for one crucial reason

*Warning: Contains major spoilers for Netflix's Man on Fire and the 2004 film of the same name.*

When people talk about Man on Fire, they almost always mean Tony Scott's 2004 film starring Denzel Washington, not the 1980 A J Quinnell novel on which it's based, or the 1987 Scott Glenn adaptation.

In Scott's version, Washington plays John Creasy (following on from Marcus and Christian in the book and first film, respectively), an emotionally burnt-out man who has lost his way after blood-soaked years in the Marines and subsequent contract work for the CIA, before an opportunity in Mexico City presents itself.

An ex-colleague and friend Paul Rayburn, played by the criminally underused Christopher Walken, sets him up with some bodyguard work for a wealthy Mexican businessman and his wife. They need someone to ferry their daughter, Pita, whose confidence far outstrips that of a typical nine-year-old, to school and piano practice and the like.

But when you live in a city where there have been 24 kidnappings in the last six days alone, you're forced to grow up fast – and you'll cling to any hint of a connection that comes your way, as she does with Creasy.

Pita instantly takes a liking to the latest in a long line of men hired for the job, who she compared to a "big, sad bear", even naming her own teddy 'Creasy Bear'. And despite his efforts to keep her at arm's length, she eases him into opening up and before long, occupies a permanent space in his heart in a way that possibly no one ever has, or certainly hadn’t in a very, very long time.

Creasy is teetering on the edge, but she pulls him back – a development that unfolds fairly quickly, but Washington and Dakota Fanning make it easy to overlook that, such is the strength of their performances. The former is unsurprisingly assured but Fanning, just nine at the time and still finding her feet, delivers a remarkable turn that meets the role's emotional intensity head-on.

It's a love as pure as the driven snow, without obligation or demands – and isn't that just the tonic in this Godforsaken world we all find ourselves in currently. The swimming scenes are enough to warm even the hardest of hearts.

So when Pita is kidnapped for ransom, and the exchange subsequently fails when the money drop is hijacked by a corrupt lieutenant from the Anti-Kidnapping Division, the proverbial flames inside Creasy are lit.

Like an angel of death (and torture, in this case, which does raise serious questions about the lionisation of the protagonist), he tears through Mexico City, leaving a bloody trail in his wake, initially to avenge Pita, who he believes is dead.

That trail, eventually leads Creasy to Pita's dad, who orchestrated his daughter's abduction to clear his debts (a genuinely gut-wrenching and disturbing twist).

Creasy's vengeance tour then becomes a rescue operation on learning that Pita is still very much alive, which we all saw coming, but that doesn't make their inevitable reunion any less poignant – and I say this as someone who was physically moved to tears on rewatching recently as an adult.

But the same cannot be said for my reaction to Netflix’s Man of Fire, in which the core relationship supposedly driving the whole thing is emotionally weightless.

The seven-part action thriller, "based on Quinnell’s book series" (there are five Creasy novels in total) and this instalment is clearly poised to continue given where we leave off, stars Yahya Abdul-Mateen ll (Wonder Man, Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, Watchmen) in the lead of role of John Creasy, (yes, they’re sticking with John here also) who, like the characters who have preceded him, was a military man before moving into security contracts with the CIA.

But those days are far behind him when we meet him in the present day – four years after the death of his entire crew, Mission: Impossible-style, during an operation he himself devised in Mexico City, a nod to Washington’s Creasy.

Cue an overwhelming amount of guilt and severe PTSD that pushed him into a life of reclusion, his only company his hip flask and the pills he routinely pops.

But when he’s cajoled into heading to Rio de Janeiro by Bobby Cannavale’s Paul Rayburn, an ex-special forces soldier who offers him a security job out of concern after his friend’s suicide attempt, he reluctantly accepts, though you get the sense he could bolt or spiral at any moment. That is, until an unthinkable tragedy compels him to stay in Brazil.

The condo tower Ray and his family are living in is blown up, with everyone inside except one. Poe — his daughter, who had snuck out to a party earlier that evening — is standing outside, about to sneak back in, when the building, along with her entire family, is destroyed. It’s one of the show’s only genuinely engaging moments.

But her ordeal doesn’t end there. Poe saw the face of one of the orchestrators, so naturally, they want her eliminated. In that moment, this version of Creasy finds his purpose, and Abdul-Mateen II brings real gravitas and commitment, wearing his grief and resolve convincingly. The series’ faults lie elsewhere.

While Scott’s Man on Fire is no masterpiece, there’s much to appreciate, such as the aforementioned central performances and destabilising twist, to Scott’s direction, which employs a gritty, feverish, relentless style to heighten Creasy’s rage and pain.

But aside from Abdul-Mateen II’s work and a couple of gripping action sequences — notably a hospital-set finale — Man on Fire feels indistinguishable from countless other Netflix action thrillers: bland and generic across multiple fronts.

The writing is littered with clichés, eye-roll-inducing metaphors and one-dimensional characters, while the big twist — that the Brazilian president, his head of security, and CIA field agent Tappan, whom Creasy believed to be an ally, are behind the condo bombing — lands with a thud. Visually, too, it’s lacking. While it avoids directly aping the original film’s aesthetic, there’s little of note here; instead, a jarring sheen coats the entire series, leaving even the favela-set action looking far too neat and clean.

But while all of that is a stick to beat 2026’s Man on Fire with, its biggest issue, by far, is the lack of emotional drive.

When Ray (and his family) are blown to the high heavens, we're expected to care because he had history with Creasy, he's the only one who's there for him in his darkest hour, and he's played by Bobby Cannavale, who has presidential levels of charm. So, we're meant to feel the protagonist's pain, and that of Ray’s daughter Poe, who narrowly escaped death. But while the moment itself is shocking and his departure is obviously a tragedy, we've known the man for five minutes and have only glimpsed a window into his dynamics with Creasy and Poe. So, why would we care, really?

Then there's Poe herself, whom Creasy's sworn to protect, whatever the cost. But while Billie Boullet's (The Worst Witch, A Small Light) wide-eyed terror at being thrust into unthinkably tragic and dangerous circumstances is convincing, her dynamic with Creasy is not – a fault that lies with the lacklustre script rather than anything Abdul-Mateen II or Boullet did or didn't do.

All the individual ingredients are there and, as Scott's 2004 Man on Fire proves, it's a formula that can absolutely work, however tried and tested. The stakes feel astronomically high when the central bond feels authentic and lived-in.

Yet here, the execution falls short. Whether it's the pair bonding over memories of the man whose death has left the biggest void in their lives, as Creasy finally begins to thaw, or Creasy teaching Poe self-defence manoeuvres – a lesson that later proves crucial in a life-or-death moment and should feel powerful and earned – it all comes across as contrived and ultimately rings hollow.

We're being told that we should feel a certain way, all of the signals are aggressively pointing to how we should be feeling, but it's just not there.

So while calling the series Man on Fire may be a guaranteed cheat code to draw people in, comparisons with Washington's Creasy and Pita are inevitable – and they don't work in its favour. Instead, what viewers get is a pointless adaptation whose shelf life will be briefer than Donald Trump and Elon Musk's bromance.

The Man on Fire TV series is available to stream now on Netflix now. Sign up for Netflix from £5.99 a month. Netflix is also available on Sky Glass and Virgin Media Stream. You can watch the Denzel Washington film on Netflix and Disney+. Sign-up to Disney+ from £5.99 a month.

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