Just 24 hours after its January 16, 2026, premiere on Netflix, The Rip has ignited the internet and critic circles alike, with viewers and reviewers declaring it the standout movie of the young year. Directed by Joe Carnahan (Narc, Copshop), written by Carnahan and Michael McGrale, and starring the powerhouse duo of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, this gritty Miami-set crime thriller has captured audiences with its relentless tension, slow-burning mystery, and the kind of performances that linger long after the credits roll. Social media is ablaze: “This feels like a classic that sticks with you,” one viewer posted on X. “Best Netflix original in years—paranoia, betrayal, and bro energy done right.” Early buzz suggests The Rip isn’t just entertaining; it’s the rare streaming film that demands to be discussed, dissected, and rewatched.

The plot hooks you from the opening minutes. A tactical narcotics unit from the Miami Police Department, led by Lieutenant Dane Dumars (Damon), executes a routine “rip”—a high-risk seizure of illegal gains from a cartel stash house. Expecting a modest haul in the low six figures, they instead uncover millions in cash stashed in a derelict property. The discovery sends shockwaves through the tight-knit team. Suddenly, every glance, every late-night text, every whispered conversation feels loaded. Who knew about the money? Who might be tempted to take it? And who among them could be dirty enough to set the whole thing up?

Carnahan wastes no time establishing the stakes. The film opens with a cold interrogation sequence questioning the team about a recent officer death—Captain Jackie Velez (Lina Esco)—hinting at internal rot before the big find even happens. This isn’t a flashy heist movie with explosions every five minutes; it’s a pressure-cooker thriller where suspicion festers like humidity in Miami’s streets. The script draws inspiration from real events shared with Carnahan by a Miami detective friend, grounding the paranoia in the gritty reality of tactical narcotics work—long hours, low pay, constant danger, and the moral gray zone of “ripping” criminal assets.

Damon and Affleck anchor the story as lifelong friends whose bond is tested like never before. Damon plays Dane Dumars, the level-headed lieutenant haunted by personal loss (his son’s death weighs heavily) and the weight of command. Affleck is Detective Sergeant JD Byrne, Dane’s longtime partner—cynical, sharp-tongued, and quick to call out bullshit. Their chemistry, built over decades of friendship since childhood in Boston, feels effortless yet electric. Lines are delivered with the shorthand of people who’ve known each other forever; silences carry volumes. When suspicion creeps in, their exchanges crackle—accusations veiled as jokes, loyalty strained by greed. Critics have praised this dynamic as the film’s secret weapon: “Leveraging Ben Affleck and Matt Damon’s classic chemistry to texturize a friendship tested by greed,” reads Rotten Tomatoes’ consensus (currently 83% positive from 80 reviews). It’s not just nostalgia; it’s lived-in authenticity that elevates every twist.

The ensemble elevates the tension further. Steven Yeun shines as Detective Mike Ro, a sharp, secretive officer whose side communications raise red flags. Teyana Taylor brings fierce intensity as Numa Baptiste, a no-nonsense detective whose loyalty is unquestioned—until it isn’t. Catalina Sandino Moreno adds depth as Lolo Salazar, while Sasha Calle, Kyle Chandler, Scott Adkins, and others flesh out a unit where trust is currency, and betrayal costs lives. The diverse cast reflects Miami’s multicultural pulse, with occasional Spanish dialogue adding realism without alienating viewers.

Carnahan’s direction keeps the pace deliberate yet gripping. The first two-thirds build suspense masterfully: tight close-ups in armored vehicles, flickering street lamps signaling “P-I-G-S” in Morse code, tense staredowns with rival Hialeah cops encroaching on their turf. Action sequences—car chases through humid streets, brutal fistfights, and a climactic shootout—are visceral and grounded, never cartoonish. The film clocks in at 133 minutes (some sources list 113, but the full runtime allows breathing room for character moments), giving space for paranoia to simmer. A standout scene in an armored vehicle—where alliances clarify in a hail of revelations—stands as one of Carnahan’s strongest set pieces, blending dialogue-driven tension with explosive payoff.

What makes The Rip stick is its refusal to offer easy answers. Inspired by 1970s cop classics like Serpico and Prince of the City, and more recently Michael Mann’s Heat, the film explores how pressure reveals character. Greed isn’t cartoon villainy; it’s a whisper that grows louder when overtime goes unpaid and families struggle. The script touches on systemic issues—low rewards for high-risk work—without preaching, letting the characters’ choices speak. Some reviews note the third act loses steam with a more conventional finale, but even detractors admit the buildup keeps you glued.

Early audience reactions echo the hype. On Letterboxd and Reddit, viewers call it “tense as fuck,” “a solid Netflix original worth the watch,” and praise the twists that keep you guessing. One fan wrote: “Matt and Ben should do more f***ing movies together—what a duo.” The film’s Netflix bonus clause—paying crew bonuses if performance benchmarks hit in 90 days—adds meta intrigue: success here could model better deals for below-the-line workers.

Visually, the film captures Miami’s duality: sun-soaked glamour masking underbelly grit. Cinematography highlights derelict stash houses, neon-lit nights, and sweat-drenched interrogations. The score pulses with urgency, amplifying every creak and whisper.

As 2026 unfolds, The Rip sets a high bar for Netflix originals. In an era of disposable content, it feels substantial—compulsively watchable, morally murky, and emotionally resonant. The slow-burn mystery, layered performances, and Damon-Affleck magic make it linger. If early praise holds, this could be the thriller that defines the year.

Stream it now on Netflix. Once the cash is discovered, nothing—and no one—remains the same. Trust frays. Loyalties shatter. And the rip echoes long after the screen fades to black.