In Diablo, director Ernesto Díaz Espinoza ignites a relentless blaze of martial arts mayhem, delivering a throwback action movie that proudly wears its genre influences on its sleeve. At the heart of this adrenaline-fueled spectacle is Kris Chaney (Scott Adkins), a brooding enigma who kidnaps a young girl named Elisa (Alanna De La Rossa), the daughter of Colombian drug lord Vicente (Lucho Velasco). But as Kris reveals, this isn’t just a random abduction—he’s fulfilling a long-standing promise to Elisa’s late mother, setting the stage for a twist-heavy narrative with emotional undercurrents.
Vicente doesn’t take the abduction lightly. He slaps a bounty on Kris’ head, drawing in the cold-blooded assassin El Corvo (Marko Zaror), a man with both a personal vendetta and a blood-soaked history with Vicente. El Corvo, relentless and chilling, feels like a hybrid between the Terminator and Anton Chigurh—he’s one of the most unforgettable action movie antagonists in recent memory.
While Mat Sansom’s screenplay doesn’t reinvent the wheel, Diablo thrives in its commitment to unfiltered, pulse-pounding combat. Fans of 1980s and ’90s action movie plots will feel right at home here. It’s a narrative blueprint familiar to the genre: the anti-hero on a mission, the ruthless villain hot on his heels, and the inevitable showdown that leaves bodies—and furniture—splintered in its wake.
The film’s real power lies in its fight choreography. Adkins and Zaror, both seasoned martial artists, face off multiple times in battles that are nothing short of ferocious. Unlike many modern martial arts films plagued by shaky cams and erratic editing, Espinoza keeps the lens focused and the blows clear. Every kick, punch, and slam hits with maximum impact, making the combat the true backbone of the film.
What elevates Diablo from straight-to-streaming mediocrity is the unexpected depth in its characters. Elisa is more than a mere hostage—she’s sharp-tongued and emotionally layered, often clashing with Kris in ways that test his patience almost more than El Corvo’s fists. Meanwhile, Velasco’s Vicente emerges as a morally murky figure; he’s a dangerous criminal, sure, but also a father whose affection for his daughter humanizes his otherwise villainous presence.
From the grimy backstreets to explosive warehouse showdowns, Diablo is unapologetically aggressive in its tone and style. It’s not bound for Oscar glory, nor does it aspire to be high art. Instead, it understands exactly what its audience craves—stylized violence, charismatic leads, and a plot that races from one brutal encounter to the next.
For genre enthusiasts, Diablo is a welcome return to form—an unpretentious, no-holds-barred ride through the blood-slicked corridors of the film industry. It won’t surprise you, but it absolutely will entertain you.
