Civil War - Review

Rating: 4 out of 5

TALK about provocative. Alex Garland's Civil War is set in an America that has turned on itself. Where a right-wing President has lost half of the country and is now fighting for his own survival. Could this be one of the most prescient movies of recent times?

Ironically, Garland began writing the screenplay during the final days of Covid, towards the tail-end of the last Trump presidency. The subsequent film was then released in 2024, US election year, as the prospect of a second Trump term loomed large. So, again, viewers may ask if Civil War served as a timely cautionary tale, a state of the nation warning about the dangers of succumbing to far right ideology.

But the reality of watching Civil War unfold is actually much different than either marketing or even the premise suggests. Indeed, its ideology (or lack thereof, to some degree) is best summed up in an exchange between two of the main characters midway through. It comes when Kirsten Dunst's frontline photographer Lee Smith informs her rookie ride-along Jessie (Cailee Spaeny) that it is not the role of her, as war photographer, to wrestle with the questions posed by what she sees, ethical and otherwise.

Rather, it's their job to record what is going on, so as to allow other people to ask the questions.

And so Garland, as Civil War writer and director, does just that as the filmmaker here. His film poses questions it doesn't dare answer. And there is some deliberate muddying of the waters in terms of the dystopian America in which events take place.

For instance, the rebel element of America is comprised, largely, of a collaboration between Texas and California - a state of play that would probably make the residents of both States roll their eyes with incredulance in real-life.

There is no clear delineation between which side is which, as both sides are likely to be wearing combat fatigues, which in turn means that when Smith and company encounter whatever combat situation or atrocity they see next, it's not always clear which side is perpretrating it.

Civil War takes care not to pick a side explicitly, even though it nods or hints towards where its true allegiance lies (a throwaway commentary on the dangers of the decision to disband the FBI being one such clue).

If anything, the film is more resolutely anti-war in outlook, seldom shying away from the horrors of the battlefield and the capacity for evil that lies in the hearts of those fighting it.

Dunst's long-suffering photographer is our primary guide, along with Spaeny's rookie, an adrenaline junkie reporter-photographer named Joel (Wagner Moura) and a veteran New York Times reporter named Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson). Their primary mission, aside from cataloguing the conflict, is to reach Washington DC to secure the final interview with the US President (Nick Offerman) before his time runs out.

Yet, in an area where journalists are now shot on sight, there is siginificant risk attached - if they can make it there in the first place.

Civil War therefore plays out as part road movie, part anti-war offering, and part state of the nation rumination, with nods towards the likes of Apocalypse Now, Lee, Black Hawk Down and more.

It keeps you on the edge of your seat throughout, as Smith and company are seldom out of danger. But it also poses plenty of questions, which should make for some lively debate thereafter.

As a film in its own right, it's also technically superb, with the combat sequences evocative of the real deal and meticulously choreographed for maximum devastation. There is a coldness to them, as well as an immediacy that heightens the stakes and places you in the midst of the action (especially late on, where an assault on the White House provokes comparisons with Zero Dark Thirty and its final takedown of Bin Laden).

But perhaps the most chilling (and most talked about) sequences comes in the form of the arrival of Jesse Plemons uncredited militia man, whose capacity for cold-blooded murder is chillingly played out against the backdrop of a mass grave for the people he has undoubtedly slain.

Civil War refuses to shirk from the ugliness of war - especially its capacity for abuse, while simultaneously exploring the grim fascination we have for all things military: the helicopters that often provide such a mesmerising presence as they fly through clouds, or into sunsets; or the cutting edge guns that so often emasculate or glorify the characters we see on-screen brandishing them in all manner of pose.

Garland seeks to analyse that fetishism, offering some slow-motion sequences of gunfire, that are queasily offset by sudden bursts of blood and guts: a stark reminder of the injury and devastation they cause.

Hence, for all of its provocative political rumination, Civil War is so much more than any one thing. Yes, it's vaguely political, posing some relevant questions that feel increasingly pertinent. Yet, it's also fiercely anti-war, while examining our romanticism of gun culture. And it's also an intense look at those who chronicle combat: the men and women who risk their lives and their sanity to record what is happening on the frontlines.

In doing the latter, it recalls the wars of times past and present, as well as exploring the psychological toll of bearing witness to so much pain, violence and suffering.

Civil War is a complex beast: but one that is frighteningly current in the type of questions it asks of every viewer.