Ben Affleck and Matt Damon are back on screen together for the first time in years, and their reunion in The Rip has proven explosive. The crime thriller, directed by Joe Carnahan and released on Netflix on January 16, 2026, dropped quietly but quickly detonated across streaming charts, claiming the #1 spot in multiple countries and setting a strong record as one of the most-watched films of early 2026. Produced by the duo’s Artists Equity banner, the movie blends gritty cop drama, moral ambiguity, and relentless tension in a sun-baked Miami setting that feels both familiar and freshly dangerous.
The story centers on the Tactical Narcotics Team (TNT) of the Miami-Dade Police Department. Lieutenant Dane Dumars (Matt Damon) and Detective Sergeant J.D. Byrne (Ben Affleck) lead a tight-knit squad that includes Numa Baptiste (Teyana Taylor), Mike Ro (Steven Yeun), Lolo Salazar (Catalina Sandino Moreno), and others. The team raids a derelict stash house in Hialeah and discovers an astonishing $20 million in cash hidden in the attic—cartel money, no doubt. The find is a career-maker and a death sentence rolled into one. Word spreads fast, drawing the attention of dangerous outsiders, internal affairs scrutiny, and the cartel itself. What should be a straightforward seizure turns into a pressure cooker of suspicion, greed, and betrayal.
Dumars and Byrne have been partners for years, their bond forged through shared risks and late-night stakeouts. Damon plays Dumars as a principled lieutenant haunted by past decisions, while Affleck’s Byrne is more blunt and volatile, a man whose loyalty is fierce but whose moral lines blur under pressure. When the money goes missing in transit or gets compromised, the team fractures. Fingers point inward: Is someone skimming? Is there a leak? Or is an outside force—perhaps a mole or cartel enforcer—pulling strings? The film explores how trust erodes when millions are on the line, turning lifelong friends into potential enemies.
The Miami backdrop is vivid and oppressive. Heat shimmers off cracked sidewalks, palm trees sway in humid breezes, and neon-lit nights give way to tense stakeouts in rundown neighborhoods. Carnahan’s direction leans into practical action: gritty shootouts, high-speed pursuits through crowded streets, and claustrophobic confrontations in abandoned warehouses. The violence feels raw and consequential, never glorified. Supporting performances add texture—Steven Yeun as the sharp, skeptical Ro, Teyana Taylor as the tough-as-nails Baptiste, Kyle Chandler as a higher-up with his own agenda, and Sasha Calle and Nestor Carbonell in key roles that deepen the web of distrust.
The film’s strength lies in its moral messiness. No one is purely heroic or villainous. Dumars wrestles with the temptation to bend rules for the greater good, while Byrne’s pragmatism edges toward self-preservation. The script, co-written by Carnahan and Michael McGrale, refuses easy answers. Every choice has consequences, and the characters pay dearly for them. The slow build of paranoia and betrayal creates a suffocating tension that keeps viewers on edge.
Social media has erupted with reactions. Fans praise the chemistry between Damon and Affleck—two lifelong friends whose real-life rapport translates into authentic, lived-in partnership on screen. Many call it “essential viewing,” highlighting the relentless pacing, sharp dialogue, and the way the film forces audiences to question loyalties. “It pulls the rug out from under you, then does it again,” one viewer posted. Others obsess over the final twist—a devastating revelation that recontextualizes the entire story and leaves the characters (and audience) shattered. The ending divides fans: some hail it as brilliant and earned, others find it too bleak or abrupt. Either way, it lingers, sparking debates and rewatches.
The movie’s success reflects a hunger for grounded, character-driven thrillers in an era of franchise overload. Damon and Affleck, producing through Artists Equity, bring authenticity and star power. Their reunion—after years of separate projects—feels like a return to form, echoing the camaraderie of Good Will Hunting but channeled into darker, more mature territory. Carnahan’s style—kinetic yet controlled—amplifies the stakes without relying on over-the-top spectacle.
The Rip is more than a reunion—it’s a brutal, sun-scorched examination of trust, loyalty, and the cost of power. It starts as a gritty cop drama, mutates into a paranoia-fueled nightmare, and ends with a twist that forces rethinking of every motive and alliance. Viewers are left reeling, divided, and obsessing over what it all means. In a streaming landscape full of noise, this one cuts through—quiet at first, then impossible to ignore.
