When Sicario first premiered back in 2015, it quickly established itself as one of the most tense and brutal crime thrillers of the decade — and nearly 10 years later, having just hit Netflix, I’d argue that it still holds up as quite a riveting watch. Directed by Denis Villeneuve and written by Yellowstone creator Taylor Sheridan, the film blends visceral action, moral ambiguity, and stunning visuals to create an unforgettable exploration of the drug war along the U.S.-Mexico border.
The story follows FBI agent Kate Macer (Emily Blunt), whose idealistic worldview is shattered when she’s recruited into a covert government task force aimed at bringing down a powerful Mexican cartel. What starts out as a seemingly straightforward mission, however, quickly descends into murky territory as Kate realizes the lines between good and evil are far more blurred than she could have imagined.
What makes Sicario so exceptional is its unflinching portrayal of the brutal realities and the moral grey zone of the drug war. Sheridan’s screenplay strips away any sense of black-and-white heroism, instead presenting a world where violence begets violence, and justice often feels like a fleeting illusion. Benicio del Toro delivers a chilling, enigmatic performance as Alejandro, a mysterious operative with his own vendetta, while Josh Brolin adds a layer of detached pragmatism as the task force’s leader.
“Taylor Sheridan has written some of the most underappreciated crime movies of the 21st Century, a run that kicked off with this film,” opines one review of the film on Rotten Tomatoes.
Del Toro’s performance is, in fact, the beating heart of Sicario, balancing quiet menace with a profound sense of tragedy. His cold, measured delivery makes every line feel like a threat barely contained beneath the surface. The film’s tension peaks during the border shootout sequence, a masterclass in sustained suspense; as a US convoy crawls through a bottleneck at the border crossing, every glance and twitch builds the sense that violence is inevitable. And when the gunfire finally erupts, it’s quick, brutal, and suffocating — a perfect encapsulation of the film’s philosophy that death can come at any moment, without warning or mercy.
Likewise, the final showdown between Alejandro and the cartel leader is a haunting display of cold-blooded retribution. The scene unfolds with agonizing slowness, each moment stretched to its breaking point. Del Toro’s quiet, methodical delivery makes the sequence feel more like an execution than a confrontation, stripping away any sense of cinematic triumph:
Cartel leader: Your wife, do you think she’d be proud of what you become?
Alejandro: (slowly cocks his head) Don’t forget about my daughter.
Cartel leader: Oh, si. Tu hijita … no fue personal (it wasn’t personal).
Alejandro: Para mi, si (for me, it is) … Ahora, vas a conocer a Dios (now, it’s time to meet God).
The scene is a stark reminder that in the world of Sicario, vengeance is just another shade of violence — leaving behind only more ghosts.
The film’s tension is amplified by Roger Deakins’ stunning cinematography, which captures the sun-scorched landscapes of the border region with both beauty and menace. Coupled with Jóhann Jóhannsson’s anxiety-inducing score, Sicario creates an atmosphere of constant dread, where danger always feels just out of frame.
In recent years, Sheridan has become a household name thanks to Yellowstone and its expanding universe of spin-offs — but Sicario remains one of his most powerful works. The exploration of power, corruption, and the human cost of violence in this high-stakes thriller feels more relevant than ever, making its arrival on Netflix the perfect opportunity for both first-time viewers and longtime fans to revisit this modern classic.
