Blackout

I’ll admit, I went into *Blackout* expecting another *Hunger Games*-lite thriller, but Wells subverted my expectations within the first 30 minutes. The dual perspectives—Laura’s clinical, almost robotic efficiency versus Jack’s chaotic, *very* teenage reactions—create a whiplash effect that Ray Porter amplifies brilliantly. His performance is *so* good it’s almost distracting; the way he voices Alec’s smug confidence or Aubrey’s rising hysteria makes the characters feel like real people, not just archetypes. The production quality is crisp, with no awkward pauses or volume inconsistencies, which is crucial for a story this fast-paced. That said, the plot *does* rely heavily on convenience at times. A few twists hinge on characters making bafflingly poor decisions (I’m looking at you, Jack), and the third-act reveal about the terrorist group’s origins feels a tad undercooked. But the trade-off is a story that *moves*—no fat, no filler, just relentless tension. What stuck with me most wasn’t the action (though the shootout in the diner is *visceral* in audio) but the way Wells forces you to grapple with how easily "terrorist" and "hero" can swap labels depending on who’s holding the gun. If you like your thrillers with a side of moral discomfort and a narrator who could make a grocery list sound sinister, this is your jam.