The Resurgent Allure of ANNA: A Stylish, Seductive Spy Thriller That Demands a Second Look

In the ever-shifting landscape of cinema, some films are born to spark immediate acclaim, while others smolder quietly, waiting for the right moment to ignite. Luc Besson’s ANNA (2019), a glossy, high-octane spy thriller, falls firmly into the latter category. Initially met with lukewarm critical reception, this tale of espionage, betrayal, and feminine power has clawed its way into cult status, captivating audiences with its intoxicating blend of style, suspense, and subversive storytelling. As ANNA graces screens again tonight at 9 p.m. on Film4 and streams on Channel 4, it’s time to revisit why this misunderstood gem deserves its newfound spotlight—and why it’s more relevant than ever in 2025.

A Femme Fatale Forged in Fire and Ice

At the heart of ANNA lies Anna Poliatova (Sasha Luss), a Russian model whose beauty is as disarming as it is deadly. By day, she navigates the glittering runways of Paris, a vision of elegance in couture. By night, she’s a KGB-trained assassin, executing missions with a precision that rivals her poise on the catwalk. Luss, a former supermodel making her acting debut, brings an enigmatic duality to Anna—a woman who is both predator and prey, wielding her femininity as a weapon in a world that seeks to control her.

When the CIA uncovers her secret, Anna is thrust into a high-stakes game of espionage, caught between the KGB’s iron grip and the CIA’s relentless pursuit. Her handler, Olga (Helen Mirren), a chain-smoking KGB veteran, molds her into a lethal instrument, while CIA agent Leonard Miller (Cillian Murphy) becomes both her adversary and uneasy ally. The film unfolds as a labyrinth of double-crosses, where every alliance is fragile, and every motive is cloaked in shadow.

Besson, known for his bold, female-driven narratives like La Femme Nikita (1990) and Lucy (2014), crafts Anna as a spiritual successor to his earlier heroines. Yet, ANNA stands apart with its darker, more cynical edge—a meditation on exploitation, autonomy, and the cost of survival in a world where loyalty is a currency few can afford.

A Dance of Deception and Desire

What sets ANNA apart from its espionage peers is its non-linear storytelling, a narrative choice that mirrors Anna’s own duplicity. Besson weaves the plot like a series of Russian nesting dolls, each scene peeling back a new layer of deception. Flashbacks and flash-forwards collide with surgical precision, revealing how Anna’s every move—whether a seductive glance or a lethal strike—is part of a meticulously crafted plan for freedom.

The film’s pacing is relentless, punctuated by action sequences that are as balletic as they are brutal. The now-iconic restaurant massacre, where Anna transforms an elegant dining room into a battlefield, remains a masterclass in choreography. Every gunshot syncs with the rhythm of Eric Serra’s pulsating score, every movement a testament to Besson’s knack for turning violence into art. It’s not realism he’s chasing—it’s a heightened, almost operatic intensity that leaves viewers breathless.

Yet, beneath the gloss, ANNA grapples with weighty themes. Anna’s beauty, her greatest asset, is also her cage—a tool exploited by both the KGB and the CIA. Her journey becomes a metaphor for women navigating systems that demand performance while punishing authenticity. In a world that fetishizes her appearance, Anna’s ability to weaponize it becomes her rebellion, a defiant act of reclaiming agency.

A Cast That Burns Bright

Sasha Luss carries ANNA with a magnetic blend of vulnerability and ferocity. Her performance, initially criticized for its restraint, reveals a calculated stillness—a woman who survives by concealing her true self. Luss’s lack of acting experience becomes an asset; her guarded expressions and subtle shifts mirror Anna’s constant vigilance.

Cillian Murphy, as Leonard Miller, delivers another chameleon-like performance. His CIA agent is a study in quiet intensity, his piercing blue eyes betraying a mix of attraction, suspicion, and moral conflict. His chemistry with Luss simmers with unspoken tension, their scenes crackling with the question of whether he’s Anna’s savior or her downfall.

Helen Mirren, however, steals every frame she inhabits. As Olga, the KGB handler who sculpts Anna into a killer, Mirren is a force of nature—cold, commanding, and utterly magnetic. Her chain-smoking, sharp-tongued delivery turns every line into a weapon, and her complex relationship with Anna oscillates between maternal pride and ruthless manipulation. Mirren’s performance is a reminder of why she remains one of cinema’s most formidable talents.

Luke Evans rounds out the core cast as Alex Tchenkov, Anna’s KGB recruiter and lover, adding another layer of betrayal to the mix. Together, the quartet creates a dynamic that’s as volatile as it is compelling, each actor elevating the film beyond its familiar spy-thriller framework.

Beauty as Both Weapon and Wound

Besson’s visual language is unmistakable, and ANNA is a feast for the senses. From the neon-lit streets of Moscow to the opulent runways of Paris, every frame is drenched in style. Cinematographer Thierry Arbogast paints the film in a palette of icy blues and fiery reds, reflecting Anna’s dual existence. The camera worships her beauty even as it exposes her violence, creating a tension that’s as seductive as it is unsettling.

Yet, ANNA is more than a visual spectacle. Beneath its polished surface lies a critique of power dynamics—how beauty is weaponized, how women are commodified, and how survival often demands complicity in one’s own exploitation. Anna’s story is not just about espionage; it’s about a woman fighting to define herself in a world that seeks to define her first.

From Critical Misfire to Cult Classic

Upon its 2019 release, ANNA was met with skepticism. Critics, wielding a 34% Rotten Tomatoes score, dismissed it as derivative, with outlets like The Guardian and IndieWire calling out its repetitive action and familiar tropes. “A reheated dish of Besson’s leftovers,” one review quipped. Yet, audiences saw something critics missed. With a 6.7/10 rating on IMDb from over 105,000 votes, fans praised its style, twists, and unapologetic flair.

“An electrifying ride with a fierce female lead,” one IMDb user wrote. “Besson’s best since Lucy,” another declared. The film’s resurgence on streaming platforms and late-night TV schedules speaks to its enduring appeal. In an era of sanitized, committee-driven blockbusters, ANNA’s raw, unapologetic energy feels like a rebellion.

Comparisons to Atomic Blonde and Red Sparrow are inevitable, but ANNA carves its own niche. It’s less gritty than the former, less dour than the latter, blending high fashion with high stakes in a way that’s uniquely Besson. Its cult status is a testament to its ability to resonate with viewers who crave style with substance.

A Thriller for 2025 and Beyond

In 2025, ANNA feels strikingly prescient. As discussions around gender, power, and autonomy dominate cultural conversations, Anna’s story—of a woman reclaiming her narrative in a world that seeks to control it—resonates deeply. The film’s unapologetic sensuality and moral ambiguity set it apart from the increasingly formulaic spy genre, making it a bold counterpoint to more polished fare.

Its resurgence also reflects a broader trend: audiences are rediscovering films that critics initially overlooked. Like John Wick or Drive, ANNA thrives on its vibe—a heady mix of pulp and prestige that doesn’t apologize for its excesses. It’s a film that demands to be felt, not overanalyzed, and its growing fanbase proves it’s found its audience at last.

Why You Should Watch Tonight

If you missed ANNA in 2019, tonight’s broadcast is your chance to experience a thriller that’s as stylish as it is subversive. Forget the critics’ scores. Forget the comparisons. ANNA is a film that lives in its contradictions—a story of beauty and brutality, control and chaos, submission and defiance.

Watch it for Sasha Luss’s star-making turn, for Cillian Murphy’s smoldering intensity, for Helen Mirren’s icy brilliance. Watch it for the restaurant massacre, for the Paris runways, for the twists that keep you guessing until the final frame. Most of all, watch it for Anna herself—a woman who turns every cage into a weapon, every betrayal into a step toward freedom.

ANNA airs tonight at 9 p.m. on Film4 and streams on Channel 4. It’s not just a movie—it’s a confession, a performance, and a rebellion, all wrapped in silk and loaded with bullets. Don’t miss it.