Tetris ★★☆☆☆
Ah, “Tetris,” the game that taught millions how to stack colorful blocks while slowly losing their sanity. Unfortunately, the film adaptation of this beloved pastime doesn’t quite manage to land its pieces as well. What should have been a gripping tale of Cold War espionage and intellectual property battles instead feels like trying to complete a line with nothing but Z-shaped blocks—awkward, frustrating, and a little bit pointless.
The film follows Henk Rogers (Taron Egerton) as he navigates the cutthroat world of 1980s video game licensing, trying to secure the rights to Tetris amidst the crumbling Soviet Union. Sounds thrilling, right? Well, buckle in for two hours of corporate meetings, negotiation jargon, and a whole lot of Russians in drab offices staring menacingly at paperwork. Yes, the Soviet bureaucracy was oppressive, but did we need the film to emulate that so literally?
At its heart, “Tetris” aims to explore bigger themes—capitalism versus communism, freedom of expression, and the transformative power of gaming. Yet, much like an ill-fitted tetromino, the film struggles to make these pieces fit into a coherent whole. Director Jon S. Baird’s attempt to give the film a peppy, almost cartoonish energy (complete with retro 8-bit sequences) feels disjointed against the seriousness of its subject matter. The result? A tonal mishmash that makes it hard to tell whether you’re supposed to laugh at the absurdity of Cold War politics or feel genuine tension as our hero evades KGB goons.
Taron Egerton brings his usual charm as Henk Rogers, but even he can’t breathe much life into this boardroom thriller. Nikita Efremov does his best as Alexey Pajitnov, the game’s original Russian creator, but the script reduces most of the characters to stereotypes. Toby Jones and Roger Allam, both capable actors, are criminally underused as villainous middlemen. They exist more to twirl metaphorical mustaches than to add depth to the story.
And then there’s the pacing. For a film about a game that can become so addictive you lose track of time, “Tetris” feels anything but engaging. It drags through exposition-heavy scenes that would be more at home in a corporate documentary than a feature film. There are brief bursts of energy—a car chase through Moscow and the occasional retro-video-game-inspired graphics—but they feel tacked on, like the filmmakers were desperate to remind you that this movie is about Tetris, not international copyright law.
Ultimately, “Tetris” tries to assemble too many pieces into a tight narrative, but the result is as clunky as a tower about to hit the top of the screen. It may appeal to hardcore fans of the game or those who relish Cold War history, but for most viewers, it’s a frustrating reminder that some things are better left in the ‘80s arcade.
Fans of Egerton and those curious about the weird backstory behind Tetris might find some moments to enjoy. But if you’re hoping for the cinematic equivalent of a perfectly cleared line, you’re better off sticking to the game itself.
