|
Reviews of Recent Independent, Foreign, & Documentary Films in Theaters and DVD/Home Video
THE HURT LOCKER
The Bravo Company, a trio of bomb squad technicians stationed in Baghdad, have 38 days left in their tour. After their levelheaded leader meets his death in the opening scene, Sgt. William James steps in to show Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) and Specialist Eldridge (Brian Geraghty) a whole new way of doing things. As played by Jeremy Renner, James is a wild, go-it-alone adrenaline junkie tautly wrapped in a skin of discipline and emotional control. He’ll break the rules, but only because his expertly nourished instinct tells him that that’s the best way to meet the challenge at hand. A senior officer (David Morse in a cameo) tells James that he’s probably defused more bombs than anyone else in Iraq, and we can see why; he’s a master at negotiating the unpredictable, everyday lethal variables. His style irks Sanborn, a by-the-book pro, and at once attracts and repulses Eldridge, who’s still trying to find his sea legs in battle. The Hurt Locker strings together seven set pieces throughout the 38 days, each one so riddled with tension and authenticated by details (in both the performances and technical craft) that it’s hard not to be overwhelmed, and breaks them up with scenes of the characters off-duty at camp and around town. Even with its 130-minute running time, little here seems gratuitous. Each action scene succeeds in developing the characters organically, adding overall to the momentum instead of slowing it down. Some will
likely argue that The Hurt Locker’s particular insight into the
war is too narrow, dismissive of the political implications, and too
focused on the rush of battle. But no film can do everything without
losing something. Make no mistake: The Hurt Locker is an action
film, one that’s ready to blast its music and rile you up. It fetishizes
images of men at war, but it’s intelligent, it’s human, and it’s pure cinema.
Patrick Wood
|
At a time when most critics
have chimed in with the moviegoing public’s cries to stop making Iraqi
war movies (especially ones that want to lecture us, as Paul Haggis did
oh-so-subtly with his heavy-handed, underperforming In the Valley of
Elah,), Kathryn Bigelow’s The Hurt Locker busts into the art
house to punch us in the stomach and squeeze the air out of our lungs. Many
filmmakers can summon debates about the war’s legitimacy to add pain to a depiction of the horrors of war; few can deliver an experience
as visceral and exhilarating as The Hurt Locker. Bigelow, working
from a script by seasoned journalist Mark Boal, fires on all cylinders.