As The Rolling Stones put it nicely, 'War, children, is just a shot away'.
And while all war films in the past had been about grand schemes, faulty plans, the glory of victory and the gore of the battle, Christopher Nolan's 'Dunkirk' succeeds them all in a different way; instead of being about all those weighty things, it is just a tale of chaos that begins with a shot of artillery ricocheting on our eardrums.
Unsubtle, you might think. Yet, before the hapless British troops wandering aimlessly in the streets of an occupied France are gunned down one by one by an unnamed enemy (which does not need an introduction anyway), they are dumbstruck to discover leaflets that mock their position as cornered by the enemy from all sides. It is as if, along with Adolf Hitler making a scramble for the Tommies fleeing back home to Britain, Joseph Goebbels also joined in the ride.
Brilliant.
But then, brilliance has always been a frequent word in the Nolan vocabulary, popping up to fill up the frames in his absolute masterstrokes (I choose, out of pure impulse, 'The Dark Knight' followed by 'Memento' and 'The Prestige') and showing up distinctly between the lines in even more mainstream yet still intriguing outings. 'Dunkirk' feels like a film that the English writer-director was intending to make for a long time and the effort, dedication and brilliance show up in spades, resulting in an enthralling and exceptional war film that is not really a war film to begin with.
That is what Nolan believes in, presenting us the senseless chaos of one of history's bleakest chapters as material ripe for a rattling, unsettling existential thriller in which the forces of nature and human evil blend to become a primal threat to the helplessness of the people in the narrative. As it would be, 'Dunkirk' is a devastating film, a genuinely startling, spine-chilling yet ultimately sensational tale of war and despair, of disaster and deliverance.
The scenario is thus: the Jerries have taken France and Belgium and are heading for Britannia itself now. British troops are stranded on Dunkirk beach by the thousands and back home, Churchill is demanding that he get his infantry back to prepare for the big battle ahead. The problems are many, though; the water near the coast is too shallow for the troops to board immediately, air cover is almost non-existent and the Germans are just rounding them up from all corners. In short, it is a nightmare.
And nightmare is what Nolan presents to us. Though, I would like to believe that after 'Inception', he has become something of a chronicler of the most meticulously manipulated dreams and nightmares going beautifully berserk. 'Dunkirk' might be a film about an actual historically recorded event rather than about confused amnesiacs and insomniacs, disillusioned yet worthy vigilantes, dream thieves and astronauts and iconic villains. But it is, in typically hypnotic, utterly magnetic non-linear narrative arc, every bit his work only. The plot is divided neatly into three compelling puzzle pieces, one set on the 'Mole' which is a threadbare jetty thronged with desperately fleeing soldiers, the other up above in the skies where a trio of Spitfire pilots soar in the clouds and the last which centres on the sea where a humble little boat sets out from home to heroic rescue.
All operate in dazzling yet marvellously coherent timelines; the exodus from Dunkirk through the 'Mole' lasts for more than terrifying 24 hours while the terse, tightly thrilling dogfights in the air last for an hour. For all the mastery of all available dimensions at his disposal, though, 'Dunkirk' achieves an indelible greatness when the director surprises and even stirs our emotions with unprecedented storytelling mastery.
Nolan has been one of our most unabashedly spectacular yet intelligent cinematic stylists but there is something bracingly real and dirty and gritty about the way he embraces the noise, fury and foolhardy nature of the fragile escape being chronicled. Cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema lends jittery, almost vividly bleak poetry to the director's energy, painstaking craft and rational invention, sneaking up and close to a soldier who buries his head in the sand while explosions boom behind him and then sweeping wordlessly, almost elegiacally above the grimy steel helmets of the troops as they turn to gaze up at the terror descending from the skies.
At the same time, he balances the relentless carnage of destruction and despair with a flawless understanding of the turbulent and twisted emotions, fears and hopes getting stirred up in the ensuing mayhem which feels inescapable. There is the precarious sense of failed chances up in those tight, painstakingly shot authentic dogfights (in which the camera gazes through those gunsights) and there is the sprawling, uncomfortable claustrophobia of cramped quarters in big ships, even as hope feels close at hand. Hoytema's compositions are markedly absent of colour, the latter showing up occasionally either as red jam on bread or the yellow nose of a Messerschmitt but it is these splashes into a gritty, glinting palette of sunlight, spray and sinking steel that make them so spectacular and immersive. Such mastery of perspective is truly astounding, even from a director who can make a simple concept as a comic book villain mean a lot more.
Aiding the director, in no small measure, is his own script, a yarn spun with the tightest thread yet as impressively lean and mean as any of the original thrillers that he had made in his beginnings. Nolan's films, for all their brilliance, tend a bit to explain the whole plot away at times but in 'Dunkirk', there is zero exposition. The words are spare and pointed, almost frugal in their function to propel the plot ahead and while there is a hint of darkly ironic humour in between, Nolan leaves no room for indulgence or wasted gestured. This is a pure thriller of inexorable dread and does not pause for even a second, except for the moments when the film becomes utterly, desolately silent enough to hear your own breathing.
Hans Zimmer's score, while appropriately tense and sweltering (especially with that constant tick-tock sound of menace behind the big swells), deserves an additional mention for being sublime when required. Jonny Greenwood would have been proud of those see-sawing violins in the beginning as our luckless raw recruits try to bustle through lines of men escaping for their lives. And special mention should go to the fabulous crew behind that mind-numbing brilliant use of sound and for making us wince at every single bullet or piece of shrapnel that shreds the screen.
Above all that craft though, 'Dunkirk' is an immensely human story. The choice of casting lesser known youngsters to play those desperate Tommies is a masterstroke, as Fionn Whitehead, musical sensation Harry Styles and Aneurin Barnard flesh their characters with almost heart-wrenching predicament. This is also a film of a couple of stellar cameos, from Kenneth Branagh as the defeated yet hopeful Commander Bolton and Cillian Murphy as a shell-shocked soldier who can only care now of getting home. There are also the heroes to cheer for, from Tom Hardy's dashing RAF stud Farrier to Mark Rylance's quietly determined Mr. Dawson, who could teach a thing or two about being an indispensable gentleman even in crisis.
A tale, then, of men. Of absolutely, yet naturally, rousing heroes and of those who wished to forge their own paths of glory in vain. Nolan has finally done away with merely doffing his hat at the great visionaries. 'Dunkirk' explores the futility of war with the depth of Stanley Kubrick, celebrates the glorious release like any of those classic British war films of yore and, as a thriller, has the tension deserving of Alfred Hitchcock. But it is ultimately a film of its own maker, about the triumph of humanity over a labyrinth of mind-boggling horror. It is a magnificent film that is not wholly about the war or even a victory or defeat but one that will make you reach for those voluminous World War 2 books to know more and believe in such historical heroism.
My Rating: 5 Stars Out Of 5
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