People of my generation vividly remember September 11, 2001 (9/11), as if it were yesterday. The second plane hitting the World Trade Center in New York is surely the most recalled image of that decade. We also remember the frantic urgency to retaliate, the assembling of a “coalition of the willing,” the bravura talk of smoking Al-Qaeda and Osama Bin Laden out of caves, and then the rather odd pivot from Afghanistan to Iraq and subsequent long war, which (to put it diplomatically) ended indecisively. The nightly-news graphically illustrated our collective feeling of impending doom with a ticker showing that day’s terror-threat level (which, as I recall, was both numerical and colour-coded, just in case we didn’t get it the first time). But what we did not see on “News at Ten” was anything remotely resembling the horrific images in the film “Warfare” (Amazon/MGM), showing now at the Montrose Playhouse. Millions of words have already been written about the Second Iraq War, and I have no wish to add to that tally. So what, then, can be said? Perhaps just that war is a serious subject for a film, and “Warfare” a serious film for that subject.
War-movies typically expand one isolated incident, involving very few soldiers, to a huge canvas on which the filmmaker can paint a sweeping, often nakedly political, picture. Take “Platoon” (1986), Oliver Stone’s masterpiece, which boldly weaponised the pitiful degeneration of one army unit into despotic debauchery to skewer the entire US invasion of Vietnam. “Warfare” is more local and considerably less generalisable than “Platoon.” A group of American soldiers are trapped in one building during a few hours of one day during that long occupation of Iraq. Presumably a similar movie could be made about hundreds or thousands of similar situations. The publicity poster claims that the film describes a “failed mission;” but surely this could describe many war-movies (after all, even something as old as “The Great Escape” (1963) fits that bill). “Warfare” cannot, then, really be considered new, either in its narrow focus, or in its claim to feature a failure.
What “Warfare” does achieve with distinction is an all-encompassing feeling of claustrophobia. Many war-movies show us the country in which the fighting is taking place, in order to develop an intellectual argument or create empathy for one side or the other within the cinematic audience. Usually this is achieved with extensive location-shooting, sometimes in more than one country (“The Return”, recently shown at the Playhouse, used this device, for instance). “Warfare” takes a diametrically opposite stance: we are utterly deprived of air, light, and any perspective. The few, short exterior scenes are hazy with thick smoke. The feeling of being in a confined space is exaggerated by the crackle of headset-communication to distantly located controllers, sounding exactly like cockpit conversations with air traffic control in civilian life. Inside the house, the individual actors’ faces are so close to the lens that we can see their shaved stubble as if from the vantage point of their razors, and their mouths so close to the microphone that we can hear them breathing as if in bed with them. It is probably the sound recording engineers who deserve the biggest shout-out. The film abruptly shifts up or down in volume, usually without preamble or warning, from a few moments of complete silence to the full-on noise of rapid-fire weapons, accentuating the overwhelming noisiness of “modern” warfare.
Many will find the clipped military-language challenging to follow. There is much “breaking-up,” “breaking-down,” “breaking-out,” “collapsing,” “punching-out,” “extracting,” “scouting.” By convention, orders are repeated, on the one hand to check understanding, for clarity, and, on the other, for amplification, for effect (“Go, go, go,” “Move, move move”). This is all very confusing to the non-military ear, as, more often than not, several people are talking at once: some to issue orders and others to communicate said instructions through a headset or earpiece to those who are not physically there. There are random compass points (east/west/north/south), code names, coordinates, building ID numbers. I was wondering—if this is hard for me, how much harder must it be for the soldiers whose lives depend on reacting at light-speed to changing information?
I suspect the screeenplay might simply be mirroring an unfortunate modern Anglo-American habit by overusing the word “good.” One of many example towards the end of the movie goes like this: “You’re good?” “You good?” “I’m good.” “All good.” That is the entire section of dialog. The irony of using this word in this context is that “it” is not good, none of it; relating, as it does, to extensive, excruciatingly painful trauma which eventually leads to an amputated limb.
Maybe the best way to greet the end of “Warfare” is with silence. The film does not add any new ideas to a story which has been told many times. But to sit and watch diligently for 90-minutes or so is an act of sober reflection on the consequences (for the powerless) of decisions made (by the powerful) in one white building in Washington. It is an act of gratitude more private and humble than attending any public rally or memorial could ever be. It reminds us that one misplaced assignment, or mistake by military intelligence, or underestimation of enemy capabilities, can easily lead to absolute destruction.
Adam Poole
20 April 2025
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