A deadly game of beauty, betrayal, and revenge explodes tonight as two acting titans — Cillian Murphy and Helen Mirren — go head-to-head in one of the most mind-bending spy thrillers of the decade. Set between Paris runways and KGB hideouts, this pulse-racing story follows a model-turned-assassin trapped in a dangerous double life. Critics called it “spectacular,” “stylish,” and “packed with twists that even Bond wouldn’t see coming.” Tonight’s TV just got a whole lot more dangerous! (ANNA)
In an era where espionage tales flood screens from The Night Manager to Slow Horses, few have lingered in the collective psyche quite like Anna. Released in 2019 but enjoying a vibrant afterlife on streaming platforms and linear TV, Luc Besson’s high-octane thriller is a cocktail of Cold War paranoia, high fashion glamour, and lethal seduction that’s equal parts La Femme Nikita and Atomic Blonde. Airing tonight at 9pm on Film4—with a Channel 4 stream immediately following—it’s the perfect antidote to autumn chill, promising two hours of non-stop tension that culminates in a finale so audaciously deceptive, it’ll have you replaying scenes in your head for days. Starring Oscar darling Helen Mirren as a steely KGB handler and Oppenheimer icon Cillian Murphy as a charming CIA operative, Anna isn’t just a film; it’s a seductive labyrinth of loyalties where every glance could be a betrayal. As Murphy’s character quips in a pivotal scene, “Trust is a luxury we can’t afford”—and boy, does the movie deliver on that promise. With its blend of balletic action and psychological chess, this “forgotten gem” (as fans on Reddit are calling it amid a recent Netflix resurgence) is reigniting debates: Is it a stylish triumph or a glossy misfire? Either way, one thing’s certain—it’s unmissable.
The film’s journey to the screen was as circuitous as its plot. Conceived by Besson, the French auteur behind Léon: The Professional and The Fifth Element, Anna was announced in 2017 amid EuropaCorp’s push for international blockbusters. Lionsgate hopped on as co-producer and distributor, banking on Besson’s flair for female-led action. Casting was a coup: newcomer model Sasha Luss, scouted from Paris runways, was plucked for the lead after impressing in a screen test that blended vulnerability with ferocity. Mirren, fresh off her The Queen triumph and eyeing meaty antagonist roles, signed on for Olga, the KGB’s iron-fisted enforcer. Murphy, then riding high from Peaky Blinders, brought his signature intensity to Leonard Miller, a CIA agent whose suave exterior hides a ruthless core. Luke Evans rounded out the principals as Alex, Anna’s recruiter and conflicted lover, adding brooding charisma to the mix. Filming spanned Moscow’s gritty underbelly, Paris’s opulent boulevards, and Milanese ateliers, with a $30 million budget fueling lavish set pieces—from catwalk ambushes to high-speed chases through the Eiffel Tower’s shadow. Released amid Besson’s personal scandals (allegations that overshadowed promotion), Anna underperformed at the box office, scraping $31.6 million globally. Critics were divided: Rotten Tomatoes sits at a tepid 34%, with barbs about its “cheesy predictability” from outlets like The Guardian. Yet audiences embraced it, awarding a solid 6.7/10 on IMDb from over 100,000 votes. Fast-forward to 2025, and a Netflix algorithm boost—pairing it with Red Sparrow and The Gray Man—has vaulted it back into the zeitgeist, especially as Murphy’s post-Oppenheimer glow draws new eyes.
The Content: A Catwalk to Carnage in the Twilight of the Cold War
Anna unfolds like a non-linear puzzle, jumping timelines with the precision of a safecracker to keep viewers off-balance. The year is 1990, mere months after the Berlin Wall’s tumble, when the KGB’s grip loosens but doesn’t vanish. Enter Anna Poliatova (Luss), a stunning Russian beauty scraping by in Moscow’s underclass. Bruised by an abusive boyfriend and eyeing suicide, she’s at rock bottom when fate—or coercion—intervenes. Spotted by KGB operative Alex Tchenkov (Evans), a sharp-suited recruiter with a weakness for strays, Anna’s raw potential is funneled into the agency’s black ops division. Under the hawkish gaze of Olga (Mirren), a veteran handler who’s seen empires rise and fall, Anna signs a devil’s bargain: five years as a state-sanctioned assassin, then freedom and a new life. Her cover? A rising star on Paris’s fashion scene, strutting for Yves Saint Laurent while moonlighting as a ghost in the shadows.
What follows is a whirlwind of glamour and gore, as Anna’s assignments pile up in montage form: a silenced pistol dispatch in a Prague hotel suite, a garrote takedown amid Milan’s fog-shrouded canals, a explosive finale at a Vienna opera house. Besson’s signature style shines—kinetic camera work courtesy of cinematographer Thierry Arbogast captures the balletic brutality of her kills, scored to Eric Serra’s pulsating electronica that evokes a darker Fifth Element. But beneath the spectacle lies a sharper edge: Anna interrogates the commodification of women in espionage, turning the male gaze into a weapon. Paris runways become metaphors for performance, where Anna’s poised poise masks the toll of her double life. Flashbacks peel back her layers—childhood poverty in the Soviet bloc, a fleeting romance with fellow model Maud (Lera Abova), stolen moments of tenderness that humanize her lethality. Enter the Americans: CIA agent Leonard Miller (Murphy) loses nine assets to a KGB mole in the opening prologue, setting a vendetta that collides with Anna’s path. Their worlds entwine in a steamy safehouse encounter, sparking a forbidden alliance that blurs lines between duty and desire.
The content’s strength is its unapologetic pulp: Besson leans into ’90s excess, with wardrobe nods to La Femme Nikita (leather catsuits over couture gowns) and plot beats echoing From Russia with Love. Yet it’s no mere Bond knockoff; the film grapples with post-Cold War disillusionment, as superpowers scramble for scraps. Anna’s arc—from pawn to player—resonates in a #MeToo era, her body a battlefield where beauty disarms and destroys. At 118 minutes, it’s taut, never lingering on exposition, but the nonlinear structure demands attention: scenes shuffle like shuffled intel files, revealing betrayals in hindsight. For tonight’s airing, Film4’s HD broadcast will pop with the film’s vibrant palette—Moscow’s neon underbelly clashing against Paris’s gilded haze—making it a feast for thriller buffs craving substance over slasher tropes.
Plot Twists: Seduction, Subterfuge, and a Finale That Rewrites Reality
Spoiler warning: If you’re tuning in blind, skip ahead—Anna’s revelations hit harder unspoiled.
Besson’s mastery lies in misdirection, and Anna is a masterclass in narrative sleight-of-hand. Early acts tease a straightforward assassin origin: Anna’s recruitment feels like a gritty redemption tale, Olga’s mentorship a tough-love maternal bond. But cracks appear—Alex’s affections seem too convenient, his alibis too slick. The first major pivot drops in episode… er, act two: Anna’s exposed to the CIA during a botched hit on a double agent. Miller, with his piercing blue eyes and velvet threats, flips her: become our mole, earn early parole to a Hawaiian paradise. It’s a classic double-agent pivot, but Besson amps the stakes—Anna’s torn not just professionally, but personally, as sparks fly with Miller in a closet hideout that’s equal parts tense and torrid. (Fans swoon over this scene, dubbing it Murphy’s “steamiest pre-Oppenheimer moment.”) Trust erodes like wet ink: Is Olga onto her? Does Alex suspect? The timeline jumps accelerate the paranoia, flashing to Miller’s 1985 Moscow purge, hinting at deeper connections.
Mid-film escalates with a restaurant brawl that’s pure Besson bravado—Anna flips through a gauntlet of thugs like a vengeful Valkyrie, her gown tearing in slow-mo glory. But the real gut-punch lands in the third act: Anna uncovers that her “freedom” clauses from both sides are illusions. Olga, that maternal facade? She’s the KGB’s architect of Anna’s recruitment, having groomed her since a teenage modeling gig in Leningrad. Alex? A plant to keep her compliant. And Miller—oh, the twist that stings—his “losses” in ’85 were fabricated to bait the mole hunt, with Anna as the unwitting lure. The seduction was strategy; the passion, a ploy. As alliances shatter, Anna goes rogue, carving a bloody path through Paris to confront the puppet masters. The finale detonates in a KGB safehouse showdown: gunfire echoes off mirrored walls, reflections multiplying betrayals like infinite regressions. In a shot-for-shot homage to Nikita‘s climax, Anna turns the tables, her final kill a mercy that frees her from all chains. But the last frame? A lingering close-up on her silhouette against the Seine, ambiguous as fog—freedom, or just another layer of the game? Viewers emerge breathless, X threads ablaze with “That ending… mind. Blown.” It’s twists upon twists, ensuring Anna sticks like a stiletto.
The Cast: Titans of Tension and Charisma
No thriller survives on plot alone, and Anna‘s ensemble is its secret weapon—a blend of fresh faces and legends who elevate camp to craft. Sasha Luss, in her breakout, embodies Anna with ethereal lethality: a former Elite model, her runway poise translates to fight choreography that’s fluid and fierce, though some critics dinged her for “wooden” emoting. Yet in quieter beats—staring down a syringe in a Moscow bathroom—Luss conveys a haunted fragility that anchors the chaos.
Helen Mirren, at 74 during filming, devours Olga with relish. The Dame channels her half-Russian roots (her grandfather was a tsarist officer) into a performance that’s icy command laced with wry humor—think The Queen meets Red. Her scenes with Luss crackle: a training montage where Olga snarls, “Beauty is your blade; wield it or bleed,” is pure mentor gold. Mirren’s been vocal post-release, calling the role “a delicious villainess” in interviews, her aristocratic bite stealing every frame.
Cillian Murphy, in a supporting turn that’s pure catnip, is Leonard “Lenny” Miller: the CIA’s silver-tongued serpent, all brogues and bedroom eyes. Pre-Oppenheimer fame, this role showcased his range—suave interrogator one moment, vulnerable paramour the next. His chemistry with Luss simmers (that closet scene? Electric), and his unraveling in the finale—betrayed by his own web—hints at the tormented souls he’d later master. Fans gush on Reddit: “Cillian looked extra hot… but the heartbreak? Chef’s kiss.”
Luke Evans brings brooding heft as Alex, the KGB lothario whose loyalty wavers like a faulty wire—his Welsh timbre adds warmth to the cold war. Supporting players shine too: Lera Abova as Maud, Anna’s ill-fated lover, infuses sapphic tension; Alexander Petrov as the KGB chief, a Petrov smirks menace; Nikita Pavlenko and Anna Krippa as fellow agents, layering the intrigue. Directed with flair, the cast’s interplay—stolen glances across briefing rooms, loaded silences in luxury hotels—turns Anna into a pressure cooker. Mirren and Murphy, in particular, ignite the screen, their head-to-head in a late-game parley a verbal duel for the ages.
Legacy of a Lethal Lady: Why ‘Anna’ Endures
Six years on, Anna defies its mixed reception to carve a cult niche. Overshadowed by Besson’s scandals, it flew under radars, but streaming revivals—Netflix’s current push, Film4’s broadcast—have fans rediscovering its guilty-pleasure pulse. Themes of agency in a patriarchal spy game feel prescient, echoing Killing Eve‘s femme fatales. Box office aside, it’s a stylistic stunner: Olivier Bérard’s costumes (that red gown assassination? Iconic) and Hugues Tissandier’s production design blend grit and gloss. Detractors call it “cheesy parody,” but proponents praise its “propulsive energy” and “breathtaking action,” per Apple TV’s synopsis. For Murphy completists, it’s a bridge to his leading-man era; for Mirren admirers, a reminder of her genre versatility.
Tonight, as Anna airs, expect social buzz—hashtags like #AnnaOnFilm4 trending, debates over that finale raging. In a TV landscape of reboots and remakes, this original holds its own: a reminder that the best spies aren’t seen coming. Tune in, dim the lights, and let the games begin. After all, in Olga’s words, “The truth is whatever we say it is.” Breathless? You will be.
