In 1973, acclaimed French filmmaker François Truffaut famously said of the war film: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an antiwar film. Every film about war ends up being pro-war.” I think his statement is perhaps a bit too definitive, but the essence of it rings true. The films that we view as anti-war rarely, if ever, explicitly condemn war itself. Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory and Dr. Strangelove, often referred to as two of the greatest ‘anti-war’ films of all time, are not condemnations of war, but condemnations of government featuring wartime settings. They posit that war itself is not hell, our commanders are simply hellish. Even films like Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan or Peter Weir’s Gallipoli, that are often heralded as anti-war due to their unflinching depictions of the violent and brutal reality of warfare, are only anti-war in theme and content, not presentation. In the case of those two films, this is not a deliberate or insidious flaw (although there are some films where that may be the case i.e. Clint Eastwood’s American Sniper), it is simply the truth of storytelling, and, by extension, of cinema.
By making an audience emotionally invested in military characters and then placing those characters within violent scenarios, the filmmaker causes the audience to become invested in the outcome of that violence, which stops the film from being truly anti-war. For an anti-war film to avoid this, it must either divorce itself from violence, like Robert Altman’s M*A*S*H or Johnathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest, or divorce itself from character. Alex Garland’s new film, Warfare, co-directed by former Navy SEAL Ray Mendoza, attempts the latter.
The film is a retelling of Mendoza’s experiences as a SEAL, specifically a mission in ‘insurgent territory’ during the final days of the Battle of Ramadi in November 2006. The words “Everything is based on memory” flicker across the screen before the film’s first scene, which would make one think that Mendoza’s involvement in the events depicted in the film would make his and Garland’s attempt to divorce their film from character unsuccessful. However, it soon becomes clear this is not the case. One of the very first scenes of the film depicts Mendoza’s SEAL team, Alpha One, covertly taking control of a Ramadi house in the middle of the night, their faces shrouded in darkness, the audience genuinely unable to tell them apart.
In a way, this scene is the thesis of Warfare. Who these men are is unimportant, irrelevant. They are not unique. They could be swapped out for anyone and it would make no difference. Their names, their voices, their faces; these things are of no consequence to Garland and Mendoza, nor were they of any consequence to George W. Bush or Dick Cheney, and as such should be of no consequence to us as an audience.
To hammer this point home, the two directors fill their cast with recognisable stars of teen dramas. Reservation Dogs alum D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai portrays Mendoza, while Riverdale’s Charles Melton, Stranger Things’ Joseph Quinn, Heartstopper’s Kit Connor, The Maze Runner’s Will Poulter, Daredevil: Born Again’s Michael Gandolfini and To All The Boys’ Noah Centineo round out the cast, alongside Cosmo Jarvis, who portrays sniper Elliot Miller, the only character in the film (besides Mendoza) whose real name is used. All of the cast’s performances are truly fantastic (Quinn, Poulter, and Jarvis being the standouts), but their presence serves a greater purpose. By drowning us in recognisable faces, Garland and Mendoza have desensitized us to these soldiers as individuals. They have made them something to gawk at. In a way, they have broken our immersion, suspended our suspension of disbelief. They have made us aware that what we are watching is not reality, but reenactment, removing our ability to view the soldiers as characters. In addition to this, Garland and Mendoza’s military jargon-filled screenplay keeps the audience at arm’s length. A decent portion of the words leaving the soldiers mouths seemed to me to be unintelligible gibberish. Had I just been reading the screenplay instead of watching the film, I’d have been unimaginably confused. Most of the audience has no point of reference for what the characters are saying, and can’t form a connection with them because of that. The soldiers are never really characterised either. We are shown some minor, somewhat arbitrary, traits (Mendoza is loyal, Gandolfini’s character is a prankster, Connor’s is eager to please, etc.), but not enough for us to really know anything about them, or even enough to give us a desire to find out more. This is by design. The film’s technical aspects are good. The editing is subtle, yet incredibly engaging. The cinematography, while less immediately affecting than previous Garland outings such as Ex Machina or Men, is very compelling in a pared back, simplistic way. The makeup and prosthetics used for injuries is similarly good, if not a bit unsettling. The sound design is harrowing.
The film does not feature a score or a soundtrack, and as a result of Garland and Mendoza’s severing of the connection between viewer and character, you are forced to sit with the soundscape they create. It’s upsetting in a way. It forces you to live within the reality of warfare yourself, not vicariously through a character. In the build up to the film’s release, there has been much conversation in online spaces about whether the film is ‘shooting and crying’, an expression used to describe war films, American war films in particular, that seem to offer shallow consolation to countries that have been the victim of oppressive military acts by depicting the remorse and sadness that soldiers ostensibly felt while committing those acts. I must admit, even I was sceptical prior to watching the film, but the sound design is what made me believe that Warfare is not an example of that trope. It is speaking to something universal. It would terrify anyone, American or Iraqi alike. The film’s resistance to forming a connection between the viewers and the American soldiers suddenly falls into place. Garland and Mendoza are critiquing the machine of war. Their film is an indictment of a system that breeds violence and hate and leaves innocents brutalised and degraded, if not dead. They are acutely aware that creating audience investment in the soldiers will create audience investment in the very thing they so vehemently despise. The thought sickens them.
Overall, Warfare is a good film. I’m sure that some will find it incredibly intense, while others will be frustrated by Garland and Mendoza’s disinterest in the film’s characters. I’m sure some will also feel that the pair are unsuccessful in their attempt at making an anti-war film divorced from character. But I think there is something important about Warfare that makes it worthy of your time.
It is a criticism of a destructive system by a man who lived inside it. I think now, more than ever, we need to be listening to perspectives like that and examining the role of these institutions within our society, before it’s too late. Warfare’s credits roll over pictures of the actors next to their character’s real life counterparts, whose faces are blurred for anonymity. Nameless, faceless. They could be anyone. You can’t help but wonder if it could be you.
Watch trailer here: