Film Reviews

April 12, 2024

“Civil War” leaves one in a state of deep reflection and asking a lot of hard questions, real and hypothetical. What would I do if I found myself in the same situations as the characters? How close are we to the near-future the film depicts? Is the movie “entertaining” in the traditional sense? How did we get to a point in our country, our politics, our humanity where “Civil War” is one filmmaker’s (understandable) reaction to the current culture temperature? Can things turn around? Is it worth it to still care about the world not in terms of winners and losers, or good triumphing over evil, and have faith in a narrative in which opposing sides can come together and talk?

I could go on. The film sparks so many queries about so many subjects, personal and social, that the number is too vast for any single review to cover; it would take a whole book. All this speaks to the film’s power, and if I could pick its most resonating quality, it’s that it prompts viewers to interrogate themselves and reminds us that hate, divide, and othering are choices we make.

Of course, how could the film not send us down a bleak path of introspection? It is, after all, titled “Civil War,” and writer-director Alex Garland has intentionally made it to be provocative, controversial, and difficult to process. It’s only natural that it shakes us up, makes us uncomfortable, and, if we’re being honest with ourselves, makes us feel ashamed. Even though Garland clearly meant to make a conversation starter and a cautionary tale, he’s also made a mirror. We can’t help but see ourselves on-screen, perhaps on both sides of the line, and what gives us pause is that we don’t necessarily like what we see.

What’s also unnerving about “Civil War” is that even though its world is devastating on paper, we don’t feel thrust into it. Sadly, a lot of what happens in this prospective dystopia isn’t jarring, which is why it’s so easy to accept it as reality. We can believe that, in time, 19 states could very well secede from the Union, with Texas and California, of all the states, merging together as the Western Forces, a heavily-armed faction that flaunts its own flag with just two stars. The story also presents the New People’s Army in the northwest and the Florida Alliance in the southeast, while the rest of the states, mostly in the northeast, are referred to as Loyalists.

The reason(s) for the divide? It would have been easy, though perfectly fathomable, for Garland’s screenplay to attribute the national rifts to the usual, topical reasons we’d expect in this day and age—conservative vs progressive ideals; Black lives vs white lives; rich vs poor; etc. That’s not to say these fissures don’t play a part, and indeed “Civil War” sees the current broken state of America as an amalgamation of all its social, political, and economic conflicts.

Ultimately, though, the country has simply reached a boiling point, and all the struggles have come to a blistering head after the tyrannical President (Nick Offerman) committed a string of heinous acts, not least refusing to give up his seat after a third term; splitting the FBI; invoking the military to attack American citizens; and playing his executive power card to justify his ruthless actions. Most citizens have had enough and opted to fight back as rebels, while others are fine to keep their heads buried in the sand, believing the country will sort itself out. The film convinces us both extremes could co-exist.

It’s in this chaotic universe where the film’s main characters strive to speak and relate the truth. They’re reporters and photojournalists whose careers now center around making their way to the frontlines of the now-regular violent conflicts occurring both in major cities and rural towns. They’ve made it their mission to document the turmoil as objectively as possible to make it known how the country is turning on and destroying itself.

Lee (Kirsten Dunst) is an established photographer and Joel (Wagner Moura) is her journalist partner. Both have lived and breathed the war for so long that they’ve all but calcified themselves to any emotions besides the occasional anger and dismay. Their detachment is deliberate, as it allows them to do their jobs, which now involves wearing neon yellow or bulletproof vests and helmets, inscribed with the word “PRESS,” a sign that they’re neither soldiers nor carrying weapons.

The cynicism and numbness Lee and Joel put out isn’t to say they’re not passionate about their work, because in spite of all the suicide bombings, gun wielders, people hanging from ropes, and shots firing, they’re determined to make it to D.C. to interview the President, and the film’s basic but potent story finds them making the perilous trek from New York City to the capital. Their objective becomes all the more urgent when they learn the Western Forces are planning to storm the White House.

Joining Lee and Joel are New York Times writer Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson) and young up-and-coming photographer Jessie (Cailee Spaeny). Despite his age and size, Sammy becomes an unexpected savior to his cohorts, mental and otherwise. And for Jessie, the road trip is formative and serves as a rite of passage into adulthood. She admires Lee greatly but has a lot to learn, and we can believe that the turbulent awakenings she experiences would make her, or anyone, grow up and hone their craft very quickly. One traumatic incident occurs when the group is stopped by a trigger-happy nationalist (Jesse Plemons), and this scene is so riveting and tense that Jessie’s churning stomach practically becomes our own.

There are many other bristling moments in “Civil War,” and their force is on par with other media from which Garland may have drawn inspiration, including “Pelosi in the House” and “The Insurrectionist Next Door,” two documentaries by Alexandra Pelosi, and “Unthinkable,” Congressman Jamie Raskin’s tough but very readable memoir. All three pieces center around the January 6th attacks on the Capitol, but they didn’t simply condemn those who carried out the violence but made it a point to try to understand what might drive people toward such actions, as well as discuss the scarring effects on those who lived to tell about it. Just the same, “Civil War” allows its characters time to talk about their fears and hopelessness as they develop further emotional callouses as a means to keep on moving, and their words and grief really hit us, and not just on a dramatic level, but a human one.

Given the gravity of its subject matter, it’s interesting that “Civil War” is being marketed as a visual and aural showcase. “Experience it in IMAX,” the posters read, as if it’s something we’re supposed to gaze upon with awe like “Dune: Part Two.” “Civil War” is certainly not a fantasy, but its production values are up there, including Rob Hardy’s cinematography, specifically the camera work, and Caty Maxey’s production design, with its vast sets, both interior and exterior. Hardy and Maxey have the extra duty of leveraging a large budget to make the mise-en-scéne appear raw and unaffected. They can’t dress it up, but they also can’t make it look too grim. Somehow, they find just the right balance, presenting a large scope that convinces us the action is happening in our own backyards. As such, “Civil War” ends up being a rare action movie in that no character is immune to the harsh reality in which they live.

Also of note is Geoff Barrow and Ben Salisbury’s score, not to mention the soundtrack, which features old and recent songs by De La Soul, Suicide, and Sweet Little Sister. The music as a whole is grounding and keeps the film on a base level. Combined with the natural, focused performances (especially Dunst), “Civil War” feels accessible from all angles.

If there were any times when I thought “Civil War” mis-stepped or felt incredulous, they would be the scene when the characters drive through a burning forest, which, though picturesque, was too on-the-nose, and the aforementioned stand-off with the armed revolutionaries. The latter is mostly nail-biting, but how it plays out seemed contrived and artificially cathartic.

Still, despite its very minor flaws, Garland’s bold and brooding film impacts us the way few narrative fiction films do. It reminded me not to take people at face value or assume we know someone else’s story, and that we should fight our natural human urge to lump others into categories. It also petitions us to view all media with an asterisk and as filtered information. Otherwise, we could be sent down a path that lacks truth or is downright dangerous. None of these messages are new, specifically in cinema, but it’s been a while since they’ve been this guttural.

I hesitate to call “Civil War” entertaining, especially because its once-unimaginable situations are now so easily imaginable, but it is. It’s enthralling. This is on top of the fact that it should also sadden and worry us that the film feels so spot on when it comes to our collective and individual anxieties and vulnerabilities.

But is it not one of the points of artistic endeavors such as this to engage us and make us think long and hard about our values as we try to justify and make sense of them? “Civil War” made me angry, disheartened, and fearful, but in the most thoughtful ways. If our present-day woes over heavy topics such as politics, jingoism, violence, fatalism, etc. were to be realized and made artistic by Hollywood, it probably couldn’t have been done better than this. Perhaps this is something anyone who watches it could agree on.