A journey across a dystopian future America, following a team of military-embedded journalists as they race against time to reach D.C. before rebel factions descend upon the White House.
Even as America continues to divide itself over and over again for issue after issue, there continues to be free reign for journalists to document all the misdeeds, horrific sins, and oppressive beats. A single photograph has influenced all manner of societal upheavals for the last two hundred years, from the anti-Vietnam war protests (and the monk on fire photograph) to the Kennedy assassination and the Zapruder film. Photographers and journalists capture this moment in time and, by sharing it, fuel change in the world. What happens when there are too many photos? Are we too aware? For decades, people have said we’re numb to war and violence and, sadly, only interact with it on an entertainment level. If this is true, then what purpose do journalists have? How can a journalist photograph a horrific event knowing this may never inspire anything, never cause change? How does a journalist maintain that sense of independence from the terrifying events therein? What kind of person can do this work repeatedly for years?
Alex Garland pokes at these questions in his latest movie, “Civil War.” The buzz-y title and marketing might provoke a knee-jerk reaction from people. Indeed, it feels like the American culture war could boil over in a couple of years and prompt precisely the kind of scenario Garland proposes here. However, Garland’s not interested in the mechanics of an actual American civil war. Instead, he transplants horrific violence inside the U.S. to situate it closer to home, so we’ll pay attention more. He wants us to see the horrors our journalist protagonists do and ask ourselves the same questions: How can you see such a thing and keep on living? Garland’s more content to leave us with questions than answers (He’s always been more of a ‘think for yourself’ type of direct/writer), but the execution gives us just enough fraught semi-American politics to attract us and a strong emotional core to retain us. With just those two things, his hour and forty-minute movie entertains wildly while creating unease.
The road trip-esque movie centers around Lee (Kirsten Dunst), a prominent photojournalist working for Reuters, as she and her coworker Joel (Wagner Moura) chase an interview with the soon-to-be captured U.S. President. Her former mentor, Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson), wedges his way into their van alongside a twenty-something wannabe starry-eyed photographer, Jessie (Cailee Spaeny). As Jessie goes on her first fraught venture into a warzone (from Chicago down to Pittsburgh, then to Charlottesville, and finally to D.C.), she may regret her enterprising nature. Her hero, Lee, is not who she thought she was. Violence awaits them at every corner. Even as Lee’s despair over disinterest in the civil war threatens to boil over, she teaches Jessie how to capture a moment and dissociate in the process. This “found family” travels up the river, so to speak, to the heart of darkness, encountering many terrifying things along the way (including a gruesome Jesse Plemmons).
Garland’s always been in strong command of his cinematic choices. His work provokes queasiness and leaves just as many questions as answers. From “Ex Machina” to “Annihilation,” even onto “Men” before now in “Civil War,” he’s been content to deliver an impressive film, but one that prompts the audience to shuffle in their seats, uncomfortable with the implications against our own nature.
The framing of this story as a sort of Heart of Darkness road trip but deep within America anchors the story and keeps the whole thing running at speed. Our team wanders into a town, follows a military deployment as it engages enemy forces, witnesses something horrifying, photographs it, and then spends time processing it. The wash, rinse, repeat cycle never gets old. More than anything, Garland chooses to set this war inside American borders but never gets too specific with the armies we follow and the people we see. It’s rarely set in a location we actually know (like most wars, the frontlines are further away from major cities than we anticipate), making it feel like a sort of nowhere in the American South. More armed conflicts happen in anonymous towns, outlet malls, and even in one drive-thru Christmas lights display than in actual knowable cities. For people watching expecting some hot-button conservatives versus liberals action, they’ll be highly disappointed, but Garland’s more intelligent than that. His anywhere locations detach themselves from our minds and make it anyone’s backyard, anyone’s outlet mall, anyone’s Christmas lights display. A sniper trap is a sniper trap no matter where it is; we only pay attention when it could happen in our hometown.
Even more intelligent than that, Garland only vaguely establishes military alliances. The backstory for why America is at war with itself matters much less than why our journalists are chasing an interview with Nick Offerman’s president before he’s ruthlessly murdered. The callous nature of these journalists might offend our sensibility. They literally race each other to interview murder subjects. At one point, Joel exclaims the gunfire gets him aroused. He can sense a good story. The degree to which these storytellers dissociate from their subject matter is the axis on which Jessie must decide how deeply she wants to dive to become like her hero, Lee, who’s already so profoundly dissociated she doesn’t even feel anything.
The sound design in this film is beyond crisp. Listen in the opening credits as the A24 logo displays itself; the sound mixers bounce television static from speaker to speaker in a haze of swirling sound. That’s simply a taste of what this movie’s capable of (and what you might aspire to in your home system someday – it’s totally doable!). The gunshots ring out clear and true from located speakers—the overwhelming sonic bursts from fighter jets screech from behind you all the way to the front. Most importantly, the film is not one long fight sequence. The quiet moments Garland’s sound team fills with gorgeously rendered cadences. As the team drives outside Charlottesville, we hear only the chirping of birds and the soft tread of tires along the backroads.
There’s lots to love in this movie. The final D.C. sequence where the military forces attempt to take an embattled White House finally rings nothing short of supreme. No expense was spared in this sequence, and the deeper they go, the more firepower gets trotted out: Humvees, mounted machine guns, tanks, rocket launchers. Its not an action sequence, per se, but it has the unnerving effect of making every character feel highly at risk. This is what war feels like: organized but dangerous chaos. Every exposure, every gap feels like a chink in the armor where an unsuspecting person could lose their life. This is not some John Wick blasting army patrol killing a dictator.
Ultimately, the film pays off the arcs it sets up earlier in the movie. At a tight hour and forty minutes, I can only ask for something like this. It is much less a flick about Americans at war with themselves but rather a story of a girl shedding her innocence to become a journalist, a veteran sick and tired of her role in catastrophe, an ambulance chaser who’s one story away from being let down, and a mentor chasing one last story. All four characters get their time to shine, and the cast pulls everything down perfectly in this rendered portrait of unease and violence. I cannot recommend this movie enough, although I worry the intentions behind it will fall behind the much easier recognition of “Which American are you?”
In Theaters Friday, April 12th
C’mon, Daniel! Excellent work! A+ 😉