The dirty business of assassination gets a cinematically cool makeover in this tense, terse, studiedly paced Sky update of Frederick Forsythe's thriller. It features a svelte and enigmatic Eddie Redmayne as the titular killer, and a solemn Lashana Lynch as MI6 sniper expert Bianca, determined to nail him. The parallel narrative, suggesting that the hunter and the hunter's hunter are not so different - both ruthless, both siloing off work and family life - is effective if unoriginal.
There are breathless action sequences and car chases, a set of international locations of which London is the loveliest, and plenty of time to ogle the way Redmayne's impeccable wardrobe drapes his athletic frame. Plus lots of engrossing business involving disguises, dismantlable guns and bespoke firebombs. There are obvious echoes of the Bond and Bourne franchises, but the stylish, slick Jackal more neatly fills the Night Manager sized hole in our viewing schedules.
The 1971 novel, and Fred Zinneman's 1973 film starring Edward Fox, featured right-wing paramilitaries hiring a professional killer to shoot President de Gaulle. Ronan (Top Boy) Bennett's ten-part series begins with the meticulously orchestrated murder of a German politician which is not all it seems.
Redmayne's "Charles" (as his Spanish wife, played by Money Heist's Úrsula Corberó, knows him) then receives an offer of "superlative remuneration" for a massive hit. Shady vested interests want to stop tech bro Ulle Dag Charles (Khalid Abdalla) releasing a bit of kit that will make all global financial transactions transparent - or something like that: the plot's a bit sketchy here.
Anyway, the cash offered is so great "Charles" compromises his tradecraft and meets the client's factotum. "We'll need a codename for you," she mutters. "Why not the Jackal?" he tosses urbanely over his shoulder. Later, finding the nom de guerre on a compromised mobile, Bianca calls up a definition: "Wolf with a mane of different colors."
Sure enough, the very first time we see Redmayne in the opening sequence he's unrecognizably disguised as a wrinkly janitor. But if you've got an international sales prospect featuring a chiselled leading man whose got an OBE, an Oscar and a Tony (and whose promise was first noted in this newspaper's Outstanding Newcomer Theatre Award in 2004), you don't want him buried in prosthetics.
So most of his camouflage involves natty hats, attention-grabbing wigs and - surely an homage to Fox's portrayal - an outrageously camp cravat. Under all of which he is unmistakeably Eddie Redmayne.
Never mind: the part of the chilly killer suits Redmayne's wintry handsomeness and reedy delivery. He's also surrounded by supporting players whose expressions look like they've been carved by years of austere weather: Lia Williams as a tight-wound MI6 chief; Kate Dickie as a terror accessory; Charles Dance as a slit-mouthed Machiavel.
Among them Lynch is a joy, eyes ablaze, moving with a sense of repressed energy and thwarted purpose. When she gatecrashes a security meeting one functionary passes a note to a superior summing her up: "Knows guns. PAIN IN THE ARSE." Bianca's home life, with her academic husband, annoyed teenage daughter and perpetually exasperated social circle is entirely convincing. The Jackal seems frankly careless about keeping secrets at home, given his caution in the field. If there's a sequel, I wouldn't be surprised if it's about her, rather than him.