Category: War film

The Crying Game (1992)


Jaye Davidson and Stephen Rea play a dangerous game of attraction

Director: Neil Jordan

Cast: Stephen Rea (Fergus), Miranda Richardson (Jude), Forest Whitaker (Jody), Jaye Davidson (Dil), Adrian Dunbar (Peter Maguire), Tony Slattery (Deveroux), Jim Broadbent (Col), Ralph Brown (Dave)

The Crying Game is one of those little movies that could: a small scale British/Irish drama about human nature and dangerous relationships, which suddenly burst into the world big, was nominated for five Oscars and won one for its creator, turning him into a widely respected writer/director.

The film follows Fergus (Stephen Rea), an IRA soldier who, over a long night, bonds deeply with Jody (Forest Whitaker) a British soldier his unit are holding hostage with the intent of killing him if their comrades are not released. When Jody is accidentally killed trying to escape his execution, and British soldiers wipe out his cell, Fergus escapes to a new life in London, aiming to track down Jody’s girlfriend Dil (Jaye Davidson) whom Jody asked him to find. Fergus discovers things about himself and Jody in London he little anticipated – and also finds that his IRA companions, especially the dangerous Jude (Miranda Richardson), are not as deceased as he believed.

When it was first released in the UK, The Crying Game was a critical and box-office disaster. This was linked to its IRA plotline, largely on account of the film’s unwillingness to stick an unequivocally clear condemnatory label on the IRA. Of course, the film is not a film about terrorism at all – and whatever it says about the rights and wrongs of the British presence in Ireland (very little indeed), I think it’s pretty clear that it shows killing and violence are completely wrong. However, the film was saved by its huge success in America. There, its subject matter didn’t provoke the same level of controversy it was re-marketed as the biggest “twist” film since Psycho.

And ever since then I would say it has stayed in that list of great “twist” films – up there with The Usual Suspects, The Sixth Sense, Planet of the Apes, Fight Club and of course Psycho, among many others. Most of its mystique at the time was due to the fact that the twist was revealed just over halfway through the film and was based around a theme that has gained far more familiarity to us today. I won’t say what the twist is (just in case), as seeing it unfold is a pleasant surprise that turns what we think we know about several of the characters on its head. I’ll simply say that it is a question of identify and leave it at that.

Identity is appropriate, as that’s what this film is about: the images we build about ourselves and how we project those to the people around us. The way our environment, and the people we spend time with, help to shape the people we are. The sometimes unexpected depths that we discover within ourselves. The film is dramatically opposed to label altogether: hence it can present a gunman for the IRA who is a sensitive and kindly soul, whose relationships with others are based on gentleness (and Fergus is just one of three characters in the film who turn out to be very different from our initial perception of them). Many of these reveals are connected to understanding how love and affection can overlap with feelings of attraction and how we express these feelings. This is all parts of the film’s fundamentally humanitarian outlook.

The film has a poetic, at times almost dreamlike, quality about it. There is a lyrical ambience to many of the scenes, with the camera drifting comfortably through the action. Visions of Jody plague Fergus throughout, both day-to-day and (tellingly) during a sexual encounter with Dil. Jody’s image haunts the film, ghost-like, through the many photos of him in Dil’s flat. Many of the events have a similarly haunting sense of being a few degrees out of reality. It’s got the sense of a violent bedtime story or fairy tale in London.

Jordan’s script is outstanding – humane, witty, deeply felt – and the actors embrace the opportunity to play such multi-levelled, difficult-to-pigeonhole characters. It’s also brilliantly constructed into three clear acts, each of which comment upon and deepen the others: we have Fergus and Jody together in Ireland, a tragic growth of friendship and respect between two men; Fergus and Dil in London, a sweet and tentative romance built on secrets; and finally the return of the IRA to London, a destructive thriller. Each act feels like a natural development and there are no juddering changes of tone, as Jordan keeps the focus on the characters and their personal stories and feelings.

A large part of the film’s success is linked to Stephen Rea’s thoughtful and sensitive performance as Fergus, a man who has clearly stumbled into a life of violence despite his sensitive and rather tender nature (and our underlying natures guiding our actions is a major theme of the film). He’s a true lost soul, and his deep (and sudden) friendship with the kidnapped Jody has an ease about it that reveals depths about his character. His relationship with Dil has a sweetness to it, while Fergus is engagingly nervous and tentative of openly expressed love (not to mention that he lies to her – non-maliciously – from the start, as he knows far more about her than she realises). It’s a low-key but commanding performance with a real depth of feeling, and Jordan gives the character a powerful redemptive arc that Rea plays to the hilt.

There is also terrific work from the rest of the cast. This is one of only two films Jaye Davidson ever made, and the untrained naturalness of the acting adds a huge amount to the mystique of the character, as well as making Dil truly sympathetic and intriguing. Davidson’s short career also preserved the unique mystery around the character that was so essential to the film’s success. Forest Whitaker’s English accent is an up-hill battle, but the actor brings his force-of-nature charisma to the part so completely you overlook that he isn’t convincing as a Londoner, a solider or a cricketer. What you do believe is his connection with Fergus, while Whitaker is able to suggest dark hints throughout that his bond with Fergus is as least part manipulation.

Miranda Richardson has the grandest role as a death-dealing IRA hitwoman, which she delivers with aplomb, her dark eyed fanatical fury making her a dangerous antagonist for the film. Jim Broadbent also shines in an early role as an enigmatic barman, but there is hardly a bum note in the acting, although Tony Slattery is perhaps a little too broad as Fergus’ worksite boss.

The Crying Game is a hugely rewarding film to watch, a deep and thoughtful film, packed with wonderful scenes, great acting and guaranteed to lead to discussion and debate after it has finished. Yes it’s a film with a famous twist – but it is not a film defined by that twist. Instead that is only part of the rich tapestry of the film’s exploration of identity, desire and self-knowledge, in which the images we are present to others are as difficult to interpret as the images we present to ourselves.

Zero Dark Thirty (2012)


Zero Dark Thirty tries to raise questions and views, but dodges many of them

Director: Kathryn Bigelow

Cast: Jessica Chastain (Maya), Jason Clarke (Dan), Jennifer Ehle (Jessica), Mark Strong (George), Kyle Chandler (Joseph Bradley), James Gandolfini (CIA Director), Stephen Dillane (National Security Advisor), Harold Perrineau (Jack), Mark Duplass (Steve), John Barrowman (Jeremy), Joel Edgerton (Patrick), Chris Pratt (Justin)

Zero Dark Thirty is a deeply troubling film: a journalistic investigation into the hunt for Bin Laden, shot with an action thriller film ethos. It wears its factual accuracy and research with an ostentatious pride on its sleeve, but ducks out of making any judgement on the issues it presents, as if afraid to pollute the events it displays with editorialising. But some events demand discussion and a point of view: as one critic said, you wouldn’t make a film about slavery that focuses on the cotton output. Similarly, a film that drives us towards the killing of the vile Bin Laden should also challenge us more about the methods used to capture him, the extent to which we “became what we hunted”.

And I don’t buy that the film is challenging us to recognise this ourselves. It starts with recordings from the 9/11 flights (a moment which made me feel uneasy to say the least and many family members were also unhappy with), its lead character Maya is caught up in two bombings and an assassination attempt, her best friend (well played by Jennifer Ehle) is killed in a suicide bombing. All of this, along with the film’s omission of any exploration of the terrorists themselves, is encouraging us to look at a particular side of the argument. Cementing this is the end of the film which, despite caveats, has a “mission accomplished” feeling – it may not be flag waving, but it does want us to feel the professionalism of a job well done, reinforced by the tearful release of 12 years of tension from Maya. We are not being encouraged to question the attitudes or assumptions of the characters in front of us; we are being steered towards a particular view of these characters and events. Without an explicit endorsement, but implicit suggestions that ends may well have justified means.

Of course, 9/11 was an abomination – but setting the deck the way the film does means it makes it easier to condone the terrible things that the CIA do in this film to get the results it got. That’s the problem with the film’s “stanceless stance” – its patting itself on the back for not taking sides means it doesn’t acknowledge any depths to its facts, it gives no context. There are many, many issues and motivations, from both sides, behind the events we see here – but we don’t learn anything about any of them. Instead the film is like a Wikipedia page with brilliant photography and editing: a skilfully presented PPT deck that shows us what happens, but doesn’t feel like it tells us anything about why or how it happened.

Torture is of course the main issue here. The film opens with a gruelling extended torture sequence of almost 25 minutes. The information it yields directly is questionable, but it does eventually lead to a crucial name, which is backed up later by Maya watching videos of others undergoing “extreme interrogation” and saying the same name. Now, torture in something like 24 feels different: there at least (a) the whole world was a cartoon, (b) the danger was immediate (“a nuclear bomb will go off in thirty minutes dammit!”) and (c) there was a sense of conflict in its perpetrators. Neither is the case here.

That’s not a defence of 24, but here it’s full on psychological and physical assault over a sustained period of time with no identified imminent threat and no real sense that the torturers feel they are doing anything wrong (I guess the film is suggesting they have become deadened to it, but still would it hurt to say something along those lines?). And it actually happened, and not just to bombers and terrorist kingpins, but (in this film) to couriers and bankers. Surely that demands some sort of acknowledgement in the film that it was wrong? Instead the film fudges this and the torture of suspects is shown to contribute in some way to the successful delivery of Bin Laden; there is no real questioning of whether the value of the information it directly obtained justified its use.

Part of the problem of the film is that it was originally commissioned as a film about the hunt for Bin Laden – the US actually finding him rather screwed up the narrative. There are elements of that original film in there: a hunt for a chimera, an obsession with one man that blinds us all to the bigger picture: “You’re chasing a ghost while the whole fucking network grows all around you” Kyle Chandler’s character cries out with frustration at one point. Maya (and the film) slaps him down – it never questions whether Bin Laden was worth the focus and expense. But it hints at the repurposed nature of the film, which would have had to tackle this question head on before Bin Laden was found. Was this the best use of their efforts? Was there a benefit to the war on terror outside of the satisfaction of punishing Bin Laden? How in control was Bin Laden of the jihad by then?

It feels to me that this film is two films uneasily mixed together. One film wants to explore the nature of obsession, and wants to question if it’s worth catching one man at the cost of diverting attention from hundreds of others. The other film is a triumphant story of patience and dedication rewarded. You can’t help but feel that a film released prior to Bin Laden’s killing might have been a more interesting and profound piece of work, which could have looked at the nature and cost of obsession. Instead, history itself pushes the film into saying “well it had ups and downs but the ends justified the means eventually”.

None of this doubt about the final film is of course an apology for the appalling crimes of Bin Laden and his followers. And Zero Dark Thirty is, however you cut it, a very well made film and Bigelow is an extremely good director. Jessica Chastain invests a character almost devoid of personality, about whom we learn almost nothing, with an emblematic depth that makes her feel like a profound embodiment of American determination and will, like some sort of morally conflicted female Gary Cooper. The film also does feel like it has something to tell us about an America under siege – although again, by shying away from editorialising, it loses the chance to present a specific commentary on how 9/11 affected the country, and its sudden sense of vulnerability and unease in the world.

It’s a troubling film, a film that seems to be dodging taking a moral stand on areas. It could still have said “some of things that were done were bad but the end result was good”: that would have been fine. But by not making any statement at all, it feels like it’s dodging the issue, not challenging us.

Rules of Engagement (2000)


Our heroes “Can’t Handle The Truth!” That’s okay though they don’t need to deal with it

Director: William Friedkin

Cast: Tommy Lee Jones (Col Hays Lawrence “Hodge” Hodges II), Samuel L. Jackson (Col Terry L. Childers), Guy Pearce (Maj Mark Biggs), Ben Kingsley (Ambassador Mourain), Bruce Greenwood (National Security Advisor Bill Sokal), Anne Archer (Mrs. Mourain), Blair Underwood (Capt Lee)

Jones and Jackson together! At least that was the cry at the time for this morally repugnant military courtroom drama. On a mission to rescue an ambassador from an embassy under siege, after a few marines are wounded (three are announced later as KIA), Jackson’s Colonel fires on a crowd of protesting civilians (a scheduled protest that has gone out of hand) killing 83 and wounding dozens more. Horrified, the suits at home decide to put him on trial for murder. Jones is his alcoholic (for plot reasons) lawyer, who tries to uncover the truth around a missing surveillance video which may (or may not) prove the crowd was armed.

This was a film that I think I’ve hated more and more since I watched it. In its defence: Friedkin directs the opening embassy siege well. The siege itself (denounced as racist at the time) comes across as enormously prescient considering the Arab Spring etc that we’ve seen since. Jones is pretty good, I guess, despite looking far too old for the part (he’s only two years younger than his supposed mother!). Jackson does the fireworks that are asked of him. It’s pretty well filmed in general.

Everything else in this film leaves a taste like three-week-old field rations. The courtroom dynamics are boring. The film doesn’t want Jackson to be a villain so repositions Greenwood and Kingsley’s characters as villains. Despite their best efforts, any sane person watching this film could not defend Jackson’s character’s actions here. The logic of the courtroom is ridiculous: a non-existent video tape overrules all other evidence, including a complete lack of bullet holes from guns from the street direction? I suppose you could argue the film wants us to make our own judgement on subjective recollections: but its stirring music and heroic worship of Jackson tell us firmly who we should be believing here. Basically the message seems to be: Embassies are American soil, raise a gun at them and you deserve everything you got coming.

The film tries to stack the decks overwhelmingly in support of its central character, but it just leaves an unpleasant taste in the mouth. For a start, our hero is cleared on a technicality – “There must be a surveillance tape and that tape might have cleared the Colonel so you should let him off” – that we are meant to cheer, but is in fact exactly the sort of closed ranks, protect-our-own cover-up that the supposedly villainous National Security Adviser denounces in the first place. It’s not even a good argument: all the actual available evidence clearly shows he’s guilty and Jackson even admits it on the witness stand! Ever heard of the Amritsar massacre? It’s a comparable event to this and one of our most shameful colonial actions. On the logic of this film it should be our finest hour.

On top of that, the film asks us to believe that a proportional response to being under fire from gunmen in a crowd full of civilians (including women and children) is to fire automatic weapons directly into the crowd. But that’s fine because Jackson’s character has a dream where he sees the Yemeni civilians all shooting up at him (didn’t see that the first time you showed it Friedkin!) including the photogenic one-legged girl the film has gone back to several times. So you go Samuel! Shoot up that crowd!

I could go on with the wonky morals of this horrible little film. The first thing we see Jackson’s character do on screen was to execute an unarmed prisoner (our hero, ladies and gentlemen!). Naturally the film has to exonerate him for this, so we have the Vietnamese officer who witnessed this turn up at the courtroom and say he would have done the same, then have the two of them tearfully salute each other outside the courtroom. So that’s fine then. It’s just another part of the film’s unpleasant attitude that you can’t even begin to question right or wrong in combat because, man, you weren’t there. Well I’m sorry but that doesn’t wash.

What is the moral of this unpleasant story? Well it seems to be that you can do almost anything you like so long as you can argue you have in someway saved lives (especially if they are American lives). Oh and that by extension, 1 American Marine’s life is worth just about 28 Yemeni lives. Go figure.

The Desert Fox (1951)


James Mason rides into action as a sympathetic Nazi

Director: Henry Hathaway

Cast: James Mason (Field Marshal Erwin Rommel), Jessica Tandy (Lucie Rommel), William Reynolds (Manfred Rommel), Cedric Hardwicke (Dr Karl Strölin), Luther Adler (Adolf Hitler), Everett Sloane (Gen. Wilhelm Burgdorf), Leo G. Carroll (Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt), George Macready (Gen. Fritz Bayerlein), Richard Boone (Capt. Hermann Aldinger), Eduard Franz (Col Claus von Stauffenberg)

It’s pretty astonishing when you think about it that less than six years after World War II ended, Hollywood produced a film about one of Germany’s leading generals which painted him in a largely positive light. Even more of a surprise is that this was a box-office hit. But then this film was designed to be a step towards reconciliation – especially with one eye on the Cold War and the need for Germany as an ally.

James Mason (brilliant in one of his most iconic roles) plays Rommel, with the film beginning just as the tide of war turns in Africa at El Alamein. Of course, this allows a lot of talk of Rommel being a noble fighter and brilliant general, without having to awkwardly show him chasing the Sixth Army across Africa! From his defeat to Montgomery (unseen but often referenced), Rommel slowly loses his faith in Hitler, realising the Fuhrer cares little for the lives of his soldiers. Gradually he becomes closer to the conspirators of the July 1944 bomb plot to assassinate Hitler. When it fails, he is given the choice: suicide and a hero’s funeral or execution as a traitor for him and his family.

The film is notable for opening with an exciting James Bond-style action sequence, a 1941 raid by British commandos on Rommel’s HQ (codenamed Operation Flipper), designed to grab the viewer’s attention – and to provide the action in a war film that otherwise has virtually no combat in it. It’s a terrific opening that immediately establishes the importance Rommel holds. The Desert Fox was one of the first films to use this device of an action prologue to open the story – the sort of thing James Bond has since mastered.

From there, Hathaway’s journalistic film (much of the World War II footage is reused from newsreels) is very smoothly and professionally directed, turning the last few years of Rommel’s life into a classic morality tale. Whether this is completely true or not (more recent research on Rommel suggests he was a much more enthusiastic early supporter of the Nazi party than suggested here), there seems little doubt that he was at the very least sympathetic to the July 1944 bomb plot. Rommel here is a man who sees the light too late – and pays a heavy price.

Nunnally Johnson’s well-researched and tight screenplay focuses on conversations and political manoeuvering, with Rommel presented as apolitical and straight shooting, clumsily working through debates he lacks the political sophistication to understand. Johnson’s script also provides excellent opportunities for sparkling cameos. Leo G. Carroll is particularly good as Rommel’s frustrated and cynical superior, but there are also stand-out performances from Everett Sloane as a lackey from High Command and a memorable cameo of controlled ranting extremity from Luther Adler as Hitler.

The film, though, is carried by James Mason’s subtle and sympathetic performance. Mason has the charisma, his upper class manner perfect for the military man, but he isn’t afraid to play both positive and negative. So we get his arrogance and wilful blindness, showcased in scenes where is passionate defence of Hitler is as much an attempt to persuade himself as others. But we also see his loyalty to his men and the tenderness of his relationship with his wife (played well by Jessica Tandy). Mason’s performance is compelling and soulful.

It’s not a perfect film. There are some slightly clumsy links at the start back to the source book written by Brigadier Desmond Young, who served in North Africa. Young cameos at the start in reconstructions of his meeting-at-a-distance with Rommel and his post-war research. Narration from the book is a worked into the film – and having heard the real Young speak, its mid-Atlantic tone is rather jarring. The narration often serves as a transition from event to event, but this is never completely smooth, meaning there are some odd jumps.

But it’s a very decent, very professionally done piece of film making. Its version of Rommel isn’t seen as the whole story today (there is a whole historiographical argument about the “Rommel Myth” of the man as an apolitical soldier or willing accomplice), but it’s very consistent within the film. Very well acted and scripted and very professionally directed, it’s a political film cunningly disguised as a war film, which does a very good job of creating the atmosphere of Nazi Germany and in re-creating historical events and has an excellent lead performance from James Mason.

Khartoum (1965)


Charlton Heston takes aim in a rare moment of action in Khartoum

Director: Basil Dearden

Cast: Charlton Heston (General Charles Gordon), Laurence Olivier (The Mahdi), Richard Johnson (Colonel John Stewart), Ralph Richardson (William Ewart Gladstone), Alexander Knox (Sir Evelyn Baring), Johnny Sekka (Khaleel), Nigel Green (General Wolseley), Michael Hordern (Lord Granville), Peter Arne (Major Kitchener), Zia Mohyeddin (Zobeir Pasha), Douglas Wilmer (Khalifa Abdullah) 

For me you can’t really beat a big epic film. I love their sweeping vistas, the larger than life personalities, the luxurious running times and the vast array of Brit actors you inevitably find filling out the cast list. There is a lovely Sunday afternoon cosiness about a good epic and, since Hollywood spent large chunks of the end of the 50s and the 60s churning them out, historical events and personages replayed in sweeping panovision, there are plenty to watch.

Khartoum takes as its topic the siege of Khartoum and the death of its commander General Charles Gordon (played here by go-to actor for the big epic, Charlton Heston). Part of the now largely forgotten Sudanese war of the 1870s-80s, the siege was conducted by forces led by The Mahdi (Laurence Olivier) a man convinced that he was a reborn messenger of Muhammed.

Khartoum is a film that means well, but it’s a rather stodgy, po-faced history lesson that struggles with the fact that sieges are rather dull eventless things. Combine this with most of the film’s subplot following faithfully recorded political events back in the UK, and it hardly makes for a event filled spectacular. Instead it’s a slightly muddy lecture, interspersed with invented meetings between characters (Gordon and Gladstone; Gordon and The Mahdi twice!) in which they eloquently talk at each other, mouthing out the writer’s careful research, but give us no real insight into the times or the impact events had on the future.

It’s also rather routinely directed, without any flair or dynamism. It’s clearly aiming to be another Lawrence of Arabia, with everything from its music score to the lingering shots of the desert all aping Lean’s masterpiece. An opening narration (by an uncredited Leo Genn) even mulls over Egyptian and Sudanese history, while lovingly showing the viewer some postcard shots of various Nile attractions, seems particularly dry and dusty.

When the film does allow moments of action (which all seem ill-placed in this seriously serious film) they are rather flat and dull. The final attack on Khartoum has a suddenness about it that works well for the overwhelming force of The Mahdi’s army – and the death of Gordon (inspired by George William Joy’s painting) is rather affecting (although the real Gordon allegedly went down all guns blazing) but this is a film far happier with conversation.

What does work in the film, surprisingly, is Heston, who underplays as an enigmatic Gordon, a quiet, unknowable man addicted to the limelight, a serene soldier with a love of peace and religion, a man of the cloth and accomplished solider. Heston allows his natural charisma to do a lot of the work, and he clearly feels a certain empathy with Gordon, gracing the film with the same determined leadership of the general. Heston is an easy actor to mock, his granite face made for legends, but he’s a quietly assured here.

Olivier’s performance is inevitably more troublesome today, the great man dressed up in blackface and a rum accent as The Mahdi. In fact, as per Hollywood films of the time, most of the major Sudanese characters are played by British actors in blackface. Of course it would never happen today – and it’s tricky not to either gasp or snigger at  Olivier’s first scenes – but looking past that first shock (and his opening speech – “Ohhhhh my belovvvvveed” is too much), Olivier gives a detailed study in ambitious fanaticism which is even more relevant in the age of Al-Qaeda. It’s uncomfortable to see, and Olivier allows the mannerisms too much rein (in particular compared to Heston’s confident underplaying) but it’s a decent performance.

I’ll always have a soft spot for this film as it allows us the chance to see Ralph Richardson as Gladstone, one of my favourite historical figures, and one of the two greatest English statesmen (with Robert Peel) of the 19th century. Richardson would have been brilliant in The Gladstone Story (sadly never made) and he brings to life much of the political scheming back home in Blighty, as a Machiavellian version of the Grand Old Man. Anyway, he’s terrific and the various cabinet room debates are some of the most interesting parts of the film.

It’s a shame that the films gets bogged down too early in Sudanese and Egyptian politics (and still manages to muddle the viewer), before settling into the siege from where, interspersed with slightly repetitive conversations. It’s clear where the film is going, but there isn’t the doom laden dread about this that the film needs. This is a shame, as this story of a colonialist, in love with a colony, killed by colonists while trying to protect other colonists, has a lot to potentially say about the modern world (both now and in the 60s) – it just doesn’t manage to say them.

Note: I was struck in the film by how dangerously many of the horses were thrown about or tackled by soldiers in the battle scenes. “Surely that can’t be safe” I thought as a man knocked over a galloping horse by jumping and tackling its head. Sure enough it wasn’t: allegedly 100 horses bought the farm for this film.

Hacksaw Ridge (2016)


Andrew Garfield embodies true heroism in Mel Gibson’s war drama

Director: Mel Gibson

Cast: Andrew Garfield (Desmond Doss), Vince Vaughn (Sergeant Howell), Sam Worthington (Captain Glover), Luke Bracey (Smitty Riker), Teresa Palmer (Dorothy Schutte), Hugo Weaving (Tom Doss), Rachael Griffiths (Bertha Doss), Ryan Corr (Lieutenant Manville).

There is a slight odour hanging over Hacksaw Ridge. Few Hollywood superstars fell as hard and as far as Mel Gibson has done in the past few years. As such, the fact that this film has been such a critical and commercial hit is being seen as redemption. While I’m not sure any film could really be that, it’s certainly a clear expression of many of the things that made him a successful superstar – a  carefully made blockbuster that tells a simple story, in a way that mixes sentiment and violence, built around a hero it is impossible not to admire and respect.

Desmond Doss (Andrew Garfield) is a young Virginian, deterred from violence early in his childhood, who volunteers for service in the Second World War, willing to do everything he can to support the war effort except hold a rifle and take a life. Instead, inspired by his fiancée (a nurse) he wants to serve as an army medic – to do his bit for his country, while standing by his principles. Needless to say his decision is not greeted warmly by his army comrades – but  at the Battle of Okinawa, as his unit goes into service, he proves his heroism saving lives during the Battle of Hacksaw Ridge.

Firstly, before going any further into the merits of the film, Andrew Garfield’s performance in the lead role is extraordinarily good in its simplicity, straightforwardness and aw-shuckscharm. Never once does his guilelessness and honesty ever become wearing – instead (and Gibson’s direction helps) he is a man you immediately root for, who you can respect without him feeling perfect. It’s a terrific performance, respectful and admiring but also real. Gibson’s camera showcases his heroism in an unfussy way, avoiding too many directing flourishes – which makes these scenes of life-saving all the more inspiring. A perfect match of actor and role.

There are also plenty of fine supporting performances – Hugo Weaving is very good as Doss’s  shell shocked father, barely able to understand his emotions, with Rachael Griffiths similarly good as his caring mother. Sam Worthington gives perhaps a career best performance as Doss’ captain. Even Vince Vaughan, while sometimes trying too hard as a gruff sergeant, quickly settles into giving one of his finest performances. Teresa Palmer is very sweet as Doss’ fiancée. In fact, there is not a bad performance in it.

But what of the film? Perhaps only Mel Gibson could direct a film that is simultaneously a celebration of pacifism and an endorsement of righteous war. This is perhaps one of the most visceral war films you are likely to see, with bullets ripping bodies in half, the camera unflinchingly recording every injury in gory detail. Say what you like about Gibson, but as an ‘experience’ film maker he is extraordinarily good – he knows how to immerse the audience in ways few others do. He also brilliantly shows both the terror of combat and the courage of soldiers. His staging of the war is tense and gripping, without being sensationalist. In fact, I don’t hesitate to place its depiction of war up there with Saving Private Ryan, combining the savagery of combat with the uplifting courage of a man who only went there to save lives.

Surprisingly one of the strengths of Gibson’s film-making is that he is a very simplistic story teller. His films are morality tales of right and wrong. His heroes, be they William Wallace or Jesus Christ, have overcome burdens to build peaceful homes before a call of duty shatters their world. In a way, that makes Desmond Doss a perfect match for him. The structure of the film, and the familiar beats in the first half of the film, ticking off influences on Doss’ life with a straightforwardness bordering on cliché, all work because they are presented with a guileless genuineness. Gibson successfully establishes a character who feels like an ordinary man who goes on to place himself in an extraordinary position.

Gibson’s simplicity as a story-teller has its drawbacks in the presentations of the antagonists in the film. The Japanese are presented as little better than a faceless horde, a fanatical band of killers, consumed with ruthlessness and lacking all sense of moral decency. Of course, that is to be expected from seeing the film solely from the Western side. But it sits slightly uncomfortably in a film that want to endorse Doss’ values. There are touches of even-handedness – a moment where Doss treats a terrified Japanese soldier in a bunker, or references to a few of the enemy that he lowered off the cliff (although Gibson isn’t afraid to have a soldier bluntly state “They all died” when asked what happened to them). But in a film that claims pacifism is something to admire, showing one half of the conflict as almost universally unfeeling monsters doesn’t always sit right.

This conflict between pacifism and righteous war, is one the film struggles with throughout. If anything it wants to have its cake and eat it too. It wants us to acknowledge the principle of pacifism as a good thing. But it’s also almost scared of being accused of presenting any idea that might be accused of detracting anything from the heroism of the generation that fought the Second World War.

How Doss squared his moral beliefs with helping the men alongside him to carry on killing is none of my business. It’s certain Doss is a far wiser, braver and kinder man than I could ever hope to be, and his actions were genuine, decent, honest and in keeping with his personal morality. I don’t understand his thinking, but that doesn’t matter and the film knows it doesn’t  matter, that we don’t need to completely understand to respect. The film wisely avoids any hokey scenes where Doss explains his convictions. It presents what Doss did as a fact, and says to us “here it is”. The man was involved in a hellish war, but he did what he believed was the right thing to do, and he saved dozens of lives doing it. If we can celebrate the actions of the men on the Normandy beaches fighting Nazism, or the pilots of the Battle of Britain, then we certainly can salute Gibson for bringing to the world’s attention this honourable, decent, brave and above all genuine man.

For all his faults, this film proves Gibson is a first rate filmmaker. Here,  he has made a moving war film that, although it seems to be trying to be many things to many people, still manages to contain a moral message and highlights a man who deserves to be remembered. It may have confusion at its heart about its true attitude towards war – but I believe it does have that heart in the right place, is trying to send a positive message to the world, and is a highly impressive and compelling piece of filmmaking.

Anthropoid (2016)


Jamie Dornan and Cillian Murphy plan to remove The Butcher of Prague

Director: Sean Ellis

Cast: Cillian Murphy (Jozef Gabčík), Jamie Dornan (Jan Kubiš), Anna Geislerová (Lenka Fafková), Harry Lloyd (Adolf Opálka), Toby Jones (Jan Zelenka-Hajský), Charlotte Le Bon (Marie Kovárníková), Alena Mihulová (Mrs Moravcová), Bill Milner (Ata Moravec), Vaclav Neuzil (Josef Valcik), Andrej Polak (Jaroslav Svarc), Sam Keeley (Josef Bublík)

Reinhard Heydrich, Head of the SD, Reichs-Protector of Bohemia and Bavaria (the new German name for Czechoslovakia) and the architect of the Final Solution, was the only leader of the Nazi party to be assassinated by Allied forces during the Second World War. In revenge for his death, German soldiers destroyed the town of Lodz, executing the entire adult male population and sending the rest of the population to concentration camps. The reprisals eventually numbered over 5,000 people.

This film covers the build-up and planning of the assassination (code-named Operation Anthropoid), the assassination itself and the eventual fates of the assassins. It begins with Jozef Gabčík (Cillian Murphy) and Jan Kubiš (Jamie Dornan) parachuting into Czechoslovakia, with orders to plan and execute the assassination of Heydrich. With the assassination at the half way point of the film, the second half then focuses on the immediate aftermath and the fates of those involved.

Anthropoid was a box-office disappointment when released. Personally I think a large part of this was connected to its terrible title. Anthropoidis a word that means nothing to people watching and gives you no idea what the film is about – it sounds more like a sci-fi film than anything else. It’s also a film without big-name stars, with a fantastically downer ending, and about an event many people have not heard of. It’s a shame though, as this deserved an audience.

It’s a tense, tightly structured film, sharply directed, that has events as its primary momentum over character. The characters in the film are primarily defined by their purpose within the plot. Saying that, there is scope allowed for characterisation. Cillian Murphy’s Gabčík begins the film as a man who believes himself willing to sacrifice anything for the cause. However, when the losses begin to happen, he is the man who most quickly succumbs to anger and sentiment. Conversely Jamie Dornan’s Kubiš begins as hesitant about the taking of lives, but becomes the most effective soldier among the group.

The film is actually fairly even-handed in its portrayal of the resistance members, not afraid of showing that they were not always a unified group willingly sharing a purpose. Many of the members of the resistance are hesitant about the effect the plan will have on their already decimated ranks. Others, such as Harry Lloyd’s Opálka seem almost obsessively dedicated to their duties as soldiers, at the expense of any other considerations. Even the eventual traitor is shown to be motivated at least partly by fear for the fate of his family. Similarly the film is not afraid to show the somewhat haphazard planning of the assassination, or its bungled execution (expertly reconstructed).

There is a definite mood shift after the assassination. If the first half of the film is a subdued men-on-a-mission tale, the second half is a brutal depiction of the onslaught of retribution. Ellis’ direction is crisp, taught and unflinchingly truthful, recording the actions of the police state with honesty and no sensationalism – from doors kicked in to some brutal torture scenes (the torture of one character in particular is tough to watch, without ever being graphic). The final stand of the assassins in the church is similarly brilliantly filmed and difficult to watch, a blazingly tight and bloody display of gunplay and violence, in which doomed men determine to take as many of the enemy down with them as they can.

However, as it goes on, I think the film becomes so seduced by the courage and bravery of its characters, that it stops questioning the value of their actions. From the start, many members of the Czech resistance are shown to question the worth of the plan when balanced against likely reprisals. This is an issue the film loses sight of in its second half. It is not completely surprising, considering the immense bravery of the assassins during their final stand, that the film doesn’t wish to undermine this by probing the reasoning behind their actions. But it’s a point that needs to be made and the film, in the end, dodges it: was killing Heydrich worth sacrificing 5,000 innocent Czechs in return? I’d argue probably not. The allies at the time certainly decided it wasn’t – no other attempt would be made to assassinate a leading Nazi during the war – and the question needed to be asked more in  this film. Killing Heydrich didn’t stop anything he had set in motion and had little overall impact on the outcome of the war.

Instead the film ends on a note of optimism, stressing Heydrich’s vileness and the fact that the successful assassination made the Czechs more recognised as members of the Allies. It is understandable, considering the tragic ending of the film, that its makers didn’t want to end with any doubt about the righteousness or value of their actions. And there is no doubt that Heydrich deserved his fate. But the film avoids truly addressing the collateral damage to the Czech population. It’s a single question mark over other an otherwise gripping and tense dramatisation.