Two young officers are marked for death after confiscating a small cache of money and firearms from the members of a notorious cartel, during a routine traffic stop.
Peña is the saving grace – he’s got a warmth that almost makes it past the film’s onslaught of self-righteous clichés – and the film has a kinetic energy that will please its target audience; but it ultimately says nothing, and says it all too loud.
As the cops head out on another patrol, it’s obvious that there’s nothing very new or profound in End Of Watch, and yet that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to see.
The picture is strong on character and atmosphere but weak on story and excitement.
It's nothing we haven't seen or heard before, but Ayer's muscular film-making keeps us absorbed.
Its spiky authenticity and blunt moral power feel unimpeachable.
Despite the violence and procedural detail, this is about as gritty as Dixon of Dock Green.
End Of Watch boasts thrilling action sequences and strong performances but familiarity with Ayer’s work breeds mild weariness.
It’s a collection of cop-movie clichés but presented with sufficient flair and strong performances that the ride is enough, even if it’s on rails.
Cop film for the YouTube generation.
The heroes' blokey chemistry ensures that End of Watch isn't hard to watch, but it ends up steering its squad car between two stools – with neither the authenticity of a genuine documentary nor the narrative drive of a brazenly fictional thriller.
This is initially intriguing, then irritating, and finally both confusing and deeply annoying.
Throws in the badge on bad cops, glorifies good cops, fudges found footage.
The constant flitting between brutality and the mundane almost turns Ayer’s film into a debate about the differing aspects of the wearisome career. It becomes a proclamation of the similarities between people, regardless of race, religion, gender, sexuality or occupation.
General release. Check local listings for show times.