Leo Rossi is back. Again. Like a bad smell or the last guest at a party you forgot you invited. Relentless 3, the third entry in a franchise no one remembers starting and no one asked to continue, drags itself onto the screen like a corpse that’s been reanimated out of sheer contractual obligation. It’s grim, it’s gray, it’s aggressively ‘90s in all the wrong ways. And most of all—it stars Leo Rossi, a man who somehow oozes sleaze even when he’s doing nothing but staring into the middle distance.
Rossi plays Detective Sam Dietz, the hard-boiled, soft-faced L.A. cop who keeps getting dragged into serial killer cases like he’s got a loyalty punch card at the precinct. You’d think after two previous films of catching psychos with daddy issues, Dietz might want a vacation or a desk job. But no. He’s back in Relentless 3, and once again, there’s a killer on the loose. And once again, Rossi is ready to glare, grunt, and sweat his way toward justice.
The Plot (Such As It Is)
This time around, our killer has a vendetta against Dietz himself. Because of course he does. The murderer is writing him letters and picking off people in Dietz’s orbit like they’re bowling pins. Naturally, the LAPD lets Dietz go rogue, chase clues, and occasionally scream into payphones. This might sound like standard cop movie stuff — and it is — but what sets Relentless 3 apart is how little effort it puts into being good at any of it.
This movie’s idea of suspense is a hallway with flickering lights. Its idea of character development is giving Dietz a new love interest so he can brood around her. The killer isn’t scary. He’s barely functional. He’s like someone doing a community theater audition for a slasher flick. There’s no real mystery. You can see where it’s going about 10 minutes in, and you’re already checking your watch by minute 15.
Leo Rossi: Human Grease Trap
Let’s talk about Leo Rossi. The man has presence — unfortunately, it’s the kind of presence that makes you want to reach for hand sanitizer. He’s one of those actors who always looks like he knows a guy who knows a guy who sells fake Rolexes out of a gym bag. His voice is a gravel-pit rasp that suggests he’s been gargling espresso and resentment for decades.
But more than anything, Rossi’s Dietz has all the charm of a bruised banana. He’s angry, rude, and permanently glistening. And no matter how much the movie tries to make him into some tragic noir figure — the haunted detective who can’t outrun his past — you can’t help but remember Rossi’s unforgettable performance as one of the rapists in The Accused. It’s not fair, maybe, to tie an actor to one disturbing role forever, but Rossi played that part with such repugnant conviction that it’s hard to ever see him and not hear “That’s right, baby!” echoing in your brain like a war crime.
He’s trying here, to be fair. He’s putting in the work. But he’s just not the guy you want anchoring a cop thriller. He’s the guy you want getting punched in the background of a bar scene. He’s the guy who sells out the hero in act two. He’s not your lead. And yet, here he is. Again.
The Love Interest Nobody Asked For
Enter the romantic subplot, and I use the word “romantic” as loosely as possible. Dietz has a new lady friend, played by a woman who looks perpetually confused, like she wandered in from a Hallmark movie and can’t find the exit. There’s zero chemistry. None. Their conversations sound like two coworkers stuck in an elevator. When they kiss, you can practically hear the director yelling, “Just pretend you’ve seen lips before!”
The movie treats her less like a person and more like a bullseye. You know she’s in danger. You know she’ll be crying by act three. And you know Dietz will do his dead-eyed best to avenge her, while also managing to look like he just lost a poker game to a raccoon.
Cinematography by Potato, Editing by Chainsaw
This thing looks awful. Not in the fun, gritty way — in the “did we shoot this on a VHS camcorder?” kind of way. The lighting is all over the place. The action scenes are shot like someone dropped the camera during a seizure. And the editing… oh dear god, the editing. Scenes just stop. Conversations trail off like the actors forgot their lines and no one cared enough to reshoot.
The musical score is pure late-night Cinemax synth, thudding away in the background like it’s trying to seduce you into a coma. It never rises, never falls — it just exists, pulsing like a migraine made of saxophones.
Why Was This Made?
Relentless 3 is the kind of movie you find at the bottom of a DVD bargain bin sandwiched between Scanner Cop and a knockoff Chuck Norris film. It’s a sequel no one needed, a performance no one demanded, and a plot no one will remember even while watching it.
There’s no tension. No surprises. No real reason for this to exist other than to keep the franchise limping along like a three-legged dog that still thinks it can race greyhounds. Even the killer is forgettable — just another bland psycho with a bad haircut and unresolved childhood trauma. It’s Relentless in name only. Reluctant would be more accurate.
Final Thoughts: Throw Away the Badge
If you’ve ever wondered what Leo Rossi would look like if he had to carry a movie entirely by himself — wonder no more. Relentless 3 gives you the answer in grainy, joyless detail. He grimaces. He sweats. He tries to be sensitive in scenes that feel like rejected perfume ads. And it never works.
The movie is a dirge. A grimy, joyless cop flick that thinks it’s deep but never gets beyond shallow end sleaze. If you’re in the mood for a serial killer movie, there are a thousand better options. Hell, Se7en was two years away. Go watch that again. Or stare at a ceiling fan and ponder your life choices. Either will leave you with more satisfaction and less exposure to Rossi’s emotional striptease.
