Reviews

Civil War alludes to many different ideas and themes but never fully commits to having a full conversation about any of them. The movie depicts the ubiquitous, pointless brutality of war, but rarely delves in to it in a way that feels new (The Thin Red Line more specifically discusses the disorienting, nonsensical aspect of war). The movie features hints of bloody totalitarianism and suppression of democracy (the president, played by Nick Offerman, is on his third term, has journalists shot on sight, and is fond of frequent airstrikes), but the movie seems wholly uninterested in to unpacking how the country came to be in the apocalyptic state that it is in. There is also some pretty brutal depictions of the dehumanization that many soldiers engage in due to brainwashing, and trauma (the lack of mercy from the soldiers in the capitol, and the soldier depicted by Jesse Plemons who is willing to kill anyone who doesn't share his ultra-nationalistic views or who isn't a full-blooded "American") that is not really commented on. None of these themes is front and center, but they come up enough that the movie feels incomplete only paying vague lip service to them.

The main focus of the film is the constant question of the merits of war time journalism and photography. It is chilling and tragic how much Lee Smith (played with usual effortlessness by Kirsten Dunst) has been broken by her desire to document the war and how much Jessie Cullen (Cailee Spaeny has a promising career ahead of her) becomes so addicted to the rush of war time journalism that it, by the end, muddles any sense of the purpose of what she is doing. Like any desire to do social good, there is always the endless internal debate that must occur where you wonder if what you are doing matters or if you are doing it for the right reasons. This theme felt the most fully fleshed out, but still wasn't explored to its fullest.

Seeing war imagery reminiscent of real events in America is effective at driving home that this could happen here. It isn't likely, but it is possible. Many of the action scenes felt relentlessly grim and were dripping with suspense. The confrontation with Jesse Plemon's sociopathic ultra-nationalist was brutal to watch because his character kept see-sawing between unflinching execution and calm (yet, underneath, simmering with rage). The final sequence where Washington, D. C. is stormed refreshingly reveals the military to be both brutally efficient, endlessly persistent, and uncompromisingly murderous in their goals. The moments of peace in the movie are incredibly brief which never allows you to feel at ease. The movie knew, at bare minimum, what it needed to do in terms of the depiction of violence. It felt like, at the very least, a solid foundation in which to explore other ideas.

Civil War really wants to be about many things but never gets to the point where it made me concurrently ask myself novel questions. Why can't the movie be more specific about how it thinks a civil war could come to be? After displaying again and again the ceaseless, unthinking violence of war, what is Alex Garland saying that hasn't been said already a hundred times? Questioning the purpose and intentions of journalists is well and good, but isn't there more that can be said on the matter besides "war corrupts and makes every endeavor feel pointless"? This film feels like a springboard more than a full experience.

A gently sweet movie that lacks ambition, but makes up for it in earnestness and coziness. The movie captures a snapshot in time- Arrietty's journey is the beginning of her coming of age, not the end. Same with Shawn. Both of them encounter a realistic conflict in growing up: Sometimes things are not meant to be, but that doesn't mean that you can't find beauty in your life when you can.

The movie emphasizes characters just going about their lives for most of the first half which makes it even more heartbreaking when they lose those things later. The detailed and vibrant backgrounds are idyllic and absorbing as always which just adds to that vibe of mindfulness. Inject that slice of life stuff in to my veins.

Misguided, narmy, and nonsensical, this movie was a trip. Denis Villeneuve's Dune: Part One struggled a bit with the sheer amount of exposition it needed to convey but David Lynch's Dune was practically crushed by it. There is little in the way of passion from most of the Artreides, Fremen, or the Emperor's retinue because most of our scenes with them is spent on spouting full Wiki articles about Dune lore. The Harkonens are a bit more lively but in a bad way- every instant with them is an affront to the senses as they eat like pigs, get uncomfortably close to everyone around them, and commit tons of sexual leering and assault (Baron Harkonen is in to young men which is, obviously, a homophobic depiction). The special effects, and set and costume design are, to the film's credit, intriguingly alien and bizarre which is what Dune should feel like. David Lynch didn't get final cut so maybe the three hour version (which exists apparently) is better than this studio mandated version that was two hours and fifteen minutes. I somehow doubt it, though, because then you would still have a movie that is mostly verbal exposition (the characters repeat themselves a lot too; often telling us a piece of information and then telling us that same piece of information a few seconds later). I think I'll pass.