Film Review: Dunkirk ****
!!! Contains spoilers!!! You have been warned. Do not read if you don’t want elements of “Dunkirk” revealed to you!!!
When writing about “The Dark Knight Returns,” I said one of the refreshing things about Christopher Nolan’s films was that in a time when cinema has been reduced to banality, Nolan makes epics. Epics are simply not made anymore. Not in the style of David Lean or Cecil B. DeMille. And yet, one of the complaints about Nolan’s films could easily be that the subtle, at times, escapes his grasp and that the intimacy of character is sacrificed for larger ideas.
In “Dunkirk,” Nolan reminds the world that he is still one of the few living directors bold enough to make epics, but here, he grounds his story in the small, personal, intimate details of survival. The irony in this story is that even though it may be Nolan’s most intimate movie since “Memento” the character’s names are almost never said, in fact, there is little dialogue for most of the film. Nolan, being one of modern cinema’s true auteurs, recognizes that film is a visual medium. He abandons the typical set up for war movies. Nolan provides no historical time line, nor does he provide a reason for fighting the war, in fact, with the exception of airplanes, he provides no villain. “Dunkirk” is ultimately about survival and, in it, the film contains the answer to Donald Trump’s belief of putting yourself first. An image that haunts the screen is a British airplane on fire. The plane has landed after a long, prolonged fight where the pilot sacrifices his ability to return home to continue the fight. He lands and destroys his aircraft so that it cannot fall into enemy hands. This image provides the films ultimate theme that survival does not mean simply living. There is more to survival than just life. His sacrifice allows for survival.
“Dunkirk” begins with ominous notes in both the sense of dread that permeates the screen throughout the film, but also ominous, because these opening moments made me question whether Nolan was falling into gimmicks or doing something profound. The use of opening title cards to set up the film made me feel queasy. They easily could have done this with visuals. I’m still not sure they’re necessary in the film. They certainly don’t fall into the stylistic brilliance of the opening crawl in “Star Wars” to place us within a certain genre. But, Nolan’s titles explaining the evacuation of Dunkirk are counterpointed with incredible visuals: a group of British soldiers, almost casually, walking through empty streets. One catches leaflets flying through the air which bear an ominous message. One tries to steal from a house. One begins to lower his pants to take a shit when gunshots ring out. The silence broken by the intense and echoing sound of gunfire. Unsure where the shots are coming from, the enemy is never seen, the soldiers take off and one by one are gunned down. The lone survivor makes his way to the beach which shows 400,000 troops waiting for evacuation. In the midst of this, the survivor still needs to take a shit and goes to a spot on the beach he believes is private. These moments, all wrapped in an almost dialogue free environment, are exhilarating… giving you glimpses into those personal quiet moments I spoke about earlier. Nolan is truly on to something.
Then came the other ominous sign… the use of time jumps. The three expanding narratives take place in different times. Nolan doesn’t cheat us. He tells us in title cards: “The Mole: one week”, “The Sea: one Day” and “The Air: one hour”. At first, the time jumps seem nonexistent as Nolan cuts between day in each story; however, as night descends in “The Mole,” while the day stretches on in the others, we begin to realize, indeed, these stories are occurring in different times. At first, I was not pleased. It seemed like a gimmick. A way to cut between moments to stretch them out unnecessarily or, even worse, to juxtapose two images without narrative-cause simply to create confusion as to what is occurring. But, like the best Rashomon movies, Nolan repeats moments from different perspectives at different points in the film, bringing real suspense and insight.
The film as I said on every level concerns itself with survival. The details are where the emotions are located. The effect of shell shock on a soldier. The way bullets penetrate the hull of a vessel and bounce around inside. The light draining from an open door in a sinking ship. The way all soldiers hit the deck as bombs are dropped literally right next to them. It is some of the best visuals I’ve seen in war films and, more importantly, some of the best sound work I have ever heard.
Throughout the film, a clock ticks in the background, reminding us, of course, of the time limit on the evacuation, but, more importantly, reminding us of what Faulkner said, that people are “worn away by a minute clicking of little wheels.” Combined with, perhaps my favorite soundtrack produced by Hans Zimmer, (it’s simplicity evokes that rare feeling of fear, abandonment, isolation… and ultimately hope) the film’s suspense never lets up. The hope in Zimmer’s score is earned through the sacrifice of characters in the film, because it is through sacrifice that hope is created… and it is in hope that survival gains its true meaning.
This film could have easily been merely patriotic propaganda for the British, but it is so much more than that. Understandably, this story is indeed a legend among the British, but in Nolan’s hands, he has used this film to emphasis our universality, our connection, our need for each other. He does this with the Admiral, who leads the evacuation, with his final decision to stay; he does this with the father who sets sail to save every soldier; he does this with the young boy, George, who jumps on the ship to join the father and son; he does this with the French officer who wants out and continually helps save the British soldiers. It is in this way that this film feels contemporary. We are still fighting fascism and the only way to survive that fight involves sacrifice and coming together.
