Mayday (2026) Review: Cold War Comedy Action

It’s 1983. The world is teetering on the edge of nuclear annihilation, and U.S. Navy pilot Troy Kelly (Reynolds) is flying a top-secret reconnaissance mission over hostile territory when his F-14 gets clipped by a surface-to-air missile. Ejecting into a snow-blanketed no-man’s-land, Kelly quickly realizes that his survival odds are worse than his call sign suggests. Enter Nikolai Ustinov (Branagh), a retired KGB agent who’s been living in a dilapidated hunting lodge for a decade, nursing a grudge against the Soviet hierarchy and a collection of vintage jazz records. Ustinov has his own reasons for helping the American - mostly involving a daughter (Maria Bakalova) who’s tangled up with a rising Kremlin hardliner (Marcin Dorociński) - and so begins an unlikely partnership that involves stolen jeeps, a very angry border patrol, and a series of increasingly improbable disguises. Meanwhile, back on the carrier, Kelly’s commanding officer (Clark Johnson) and a blinkered Pentagon official (Wendy Crewson) debate whether to launch a rescue that could trigger World War III. And hovering over everything is the ghost of Kelly’s father (David Morse), a legendary pilot whose shadow Troy has spent his whole career trying to escape.

The chemistry here is the whole ballgame. Reynolds can do this role in his sleep - and occasionally does, slipping into the same quippy cadence he’s deployed since “Deadpool.” But Goldstein smartly forces him to share the spotlight. Branagh, sporting a graying beard and a permanent expression of weary contempt, plays Ustinov as a man who has seen too much and cares too little. His delivery is a masterclass in deadpan: when Kelly suggests they “wing it,” Ustinov replies, “That is what my government said, before 40 million of my countrymen were gone.” It’s a laugh line with a knife in it, and Branagh lands it beautifully.

The action set-pieces are genuinely well-executed. A mid-film chase through a Soviet military parade - with Reynolds commandeering a ZIL limousine while Branagh shoots at pursuers from the sunroof - is choreographed with the kind of physical comedy that recalls Jackie Chan more than John McTiernan. Goldstein doesn’t skimp on tension when it matters, but he never lets the mayhem obscure the joke. The film knows that a man in a fur hat and a man in a flight suit arguing about the correct way to hot-wire a truck is funnier than any explosion.

The screenplay, credited to three writers, takes a few narrative shortcuts that stretch plausibility beyond the breaking point. The escape route hinges on a series of coincidences that feel less like fate and more like lazy writing. And the subplot with Bakalova’s Anna - who is supposed to be a brilliant physicist trapped in a loveless engagement to a KGB officer - is underwritten to the point of near-superfluity. She shows up, delivers one genuinely affecting monologue about chess and sacrifice, and then disappears into the third act’s frantic climax.

But the film’s emotional core, surprisingly, lands. The relationship between Kelly and his father, communicated mostly through terse radio calls and a single flashback, gives Reynolds a chance to drop the ironic mask. Morse, a master of stoic grief, does more with a furrowed brow than most actors could with a page of dialogue. And the film’s final ten minutes, which I won’t spoil, manage to be both a satisfying shootout and a quiet meditation on inheritance - what we owe to our fathers, and what we owe to ourselves. That it doesn’t collapse under the weight of its own tonal shifts is a testament to Goldstein’s steady hand and to the cast’s commitment to the bit.

David Morse’s scenes are few but crucial, and Clark Johnson brings a nice weary authority to the carrier-bound subplot. Marcin Dorociński, as the villain, is suitably slimy, though his motivation is sketched with a broad brush. Wendy Crewson’s Pentagon bureaucrat is a one-note obstacle, but she plays that note with relish.

Pros

• Branagh’s performance is a career-high comedic turn, effortlessly hilarious without ever mugging.
• The action sequences are crisp, inventive, and refreshingly legible.
• Reynolds is wisely reined in, delivering his best work in years.
• Genuine emotional stakes in the father-son dynamic.

Cons

• The plot logic crumbles under any scrutiny; coincidences pile up like snowdrifts.
• Maria Bakalova is wasted in an undercooked role.
• The third act drags slightly before its inevitable, if satisfying, conclusion.
• Some tonal whiplash between slapstick and grim Cold War dread.

“Mayday” is not going to rewrite the rules of the spy comedy, nor does it need to. It’s a big, loud, funny summer picture that understands its own absurdity and plays it with a straight face. In an era where nearly every blockbuster is either a superhero origin story or a legacy sequel, there’s something almost revolutionary about a movie that’s just two great actors, a snowbank, and a series of increasingly bad decisions. It feels like a throwback to the days of “Midnight Run” and “48 Hrs.” - a buddy picture that wears its heart on its sleeve while firing a rocket launcher at the Kremlin. That it works as well as it does is a minor miracle. That it makes you care about a washed-up KGB agent and a cocky Navy flyboy is a genuine one.

Catch it in theaters while you can - before the next franchise installment comes along to wipe it from the schedule.