Film Review: Prisoner of War (2025) - USA / Philippines
Reviewed by Andrew Chan (Film Critic Circle of Australia)
I rated it 7/10
Rating: ★ ★ ★ 1/2
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What is it we go to the movies for? Sometimes, we crave transformation; other times, we hunger for craft. “Prisoner of War”is a film of the latter category, delivering its specialized goods with impressive and brutal efficiency. This is a vehicle for the formidable Scott Adkins, and as such, it succeeds on the terms it sets for itself. It is not a profound meditation on war, but a meticulously choreographed ballet of survival, where the body is both weapon and protest.
Director Louis Mandylor understands his primary duty: keep the camera steady and let Adkins speak with his fists, feet, and weary eyes. Set during the grim fall of Bataan, the film finds Wing Commander James Wright (Adkins) using his mastery of Wing Chun not for glory, but as a last resort of dignity against his captors. The fight sequences are the film's true soliloquies. They are shot in coherent, punishing long takes that emphasize the weight of every blocked strike and desperate counter-move. This isn't the frenetic, weightless chaos of so many modern blockbusters; it is combat as exhausting labor, a powerful physical metaphor for the prisoners' condition.
Where the film walks a well-trodden path is in its script. We recognize the archetypes: the noble officer, the cruel camp commander (played with a welcome hint of calculation by Peter Shinkoda), the band of brothers plotting escape. The narrative moves with the certainty of a drill manual. The supporting characters, including a game Donald Cerrone, exist primarily to define the edges of Adkins' mission.
But to criticize Prisoner of War for lacking narrative surprise is to miss its point. This is a prestige action picture, one that balances the somber historical context with the heightened demands of its genre. It is more interested in the geometry of a fight than the psychology of its fighters, and when the geometry is this superbly executed, the result is compelling. It is “Bloodsport” wearing the fatigues of “The Great Escape”, and it makes no apology for that hybrid identity.
This is a solid, muscular genre exercise. Adkins has never been more physically persuasive, and the action is crafted with a clarity that feels like a public service. It delivers precisely on its promise: bone-deep commitment in front of the camera, and clean, ruthless craftsmanship behind it. (Neo, 2026)