Review: Zero Dark Thirty

Storytelling is, by its nature, manipulative, and plenty of great movies are so because they know how to twist your perceptions to their purpose. A well-crafted, emotional workout, whether thrilling, tear-jerking, or comical, makes for one hell of an experience, and the degree of pleasure you get from letting a movie works its magic on you will cement its place in your mind. But then there’s the other class of great movie, the kind that demands you pull your own weight, and meet it as an equal, no matter how unsettling doing so might be. These films aren’t made to go down smoothly; they come sharpened and barbed, designed to stick inside your head, and make you bleed from the inside, until you’re wondering why you didn’t just watch the stupid Hollywood dress-up movie with name like Gangster Squad.

In reliving the exhaustive manhunt for Osama Bin Laden, Zero Dark Thirty could only ever exist among the latter class of films, regardless of whether or not it turned out to be great, which it most certainly is. Expanding the “boots on the ground” style that won her Best Director and Best Picture titles for The Hurt Locker, Kathryn Bigelow, and writer Mark Boal, turn their focus to the defining conflict of the last decade, exploring a fight against terrorism by American intelligence agencies that’s as dangerous, and wearying, as any war without clear borders or armies would be.

The film opens two years after 9/11, in one of the many off the books black sites the C.I.A. is operating on foreign soil. “This is what defeat looks like,” barks one of their operatives, as he waterboards a detainee who has clearly been through this routine, and much worse, already. Looking on is recent transfer Maya (Jessica Chastain), a wispy young woman who looks like she might get carried off by a strong desert wind. Her small frame and soft face belie a fierce purpose, one that Chastain is always subtly telegraphing, when not letting it be unleashed in full. Maya is our guide, of sorts, through the next ten years, as her globetrotting journey is made to mirror that of the real life analyst who was largely responsible for finding Bin Laden.

It is through her eyes that we come to understand how inadequate the greatest intelligence resources in the world were when it came to finding one man, especially since doing so became less of a priority as the search dragged on, and domestic security concerns grew as threats went to ground. With so many painful memories to draw from, Zero Dark Thirty has no difficulty in uncovering the raw nerves accumulated over a tumultuous decade, but its daring comes from willing to strike those wounds, again, and again. The results are more than a little upsetting, as they ought to be.

Bigelow and Boal have taken on an unenviable task here, as they set out to compress an era’s worth of fleeting victories, political turmoil, and empty-handed frustration into two and a half hours. While a departmental effort to apprehend a killer might bring to mind cop dramas –and sure enough, sources are “interrogated,” red herrings get rundown, and the hunters often rank among the causalities- the film eschews a traditional thriller structure, often feeling more like a series of chronological vignettes (complete with intertitles) that build towards one moment.

The diffuse narrative would make Zero Dark Thirty as episodic and unfocused as something like The Master, were it not so charged with real history. It rarely lingers on one scene or event for too long, leaping ahead years at a time to showcase how the ongoing battle of attrition is evolving. It’s reminiscent of David Fincher’s Zodiac, another film about a seemingly fruitless hunt for a famed murderer (each employs audio recordings set against a black backdrop, denoting tectonic cultural shifts with striking effectiveness). Both films weigh down one side of a scale with a boogeyman, giving the individuals and nation tasked with finding him the high ground. But the longer, and more desperate the search becomes, the more the avengers give of themselves, and the balance starts to tip. When all is said and done, what is accomplished must be measured against where the scale stands, something Zero Dark Thirty isn't afraid to do.

The film has kicked up quite a controversy over its depiction of torture. The opening fifteen minutes continue the earlier mentioned waterboarding scene with a detail and intensity that’s disturbing, but not exploitative. These sequences, and there are plenty of them, serve to provoke a reaction out of the audience, one that is then tempered by the events that follow. Critics will point to how the brutal actions of C.I.A. spooks helped lead (in circuitous fashion) to the eventual discovery of Bin Laden’s compound, and how hand-tied the agency looks when trying to confirm his presence without the use of “enhanced interrogation.”

To call this a tacit endorsement of torture, however, is bafflingly simplistic. Yes, the film demonstrates the hard truth that physical and mental abuse of a person can cause them to give up information, but the actionable value and validity of that information is always in question. Zero Dark Thirty doesn’t paint with a black and white brush; instead, it asks the audience to consider if there's a point where our hope for a silver bullet to terrorism exceeds our duty to not commit unforgiveable acts against other human beings, or if such things even exist. It all comes together in the film’s breathless finale, a near-real time recreation of the Navy SEAL strike against Bin Laden’s compound in Abbottabad. Bigelow is excellent at shooting dialogue and information delivery, but here she confirms her status as a world-class director of action, not in terms of giant explosions and gunfights, but in capturing people as they make momentous decisions through movement.

When the events that transpired in the early minutes of May 2nd do occur, and the last shots have been fired, your reaction will vary, and this is the film’s crowning achievement. For some, it will be a cathartic release for ten years’ worth of bided rage, a cinematic reminder of the relief that came in 2011. Don’t be surprised if you hear an audible whooping in your theatre. For others, though, the moment will be utterly empty, a success qualified to the edge of irrelevance, and delayed past the point of gratification. Beyond its technical prowess, superb cast, and tight script, Zero Dark Thirty is a great film because it doesn’t tell you what to think. It’s a harrowing, unforgettable assault, summed up by one final, devastating look from Chastain that asks, “Was it worth it?” That’s up to you to decide, which may take some time. Zero Dark Thirty is meant to be chewed over, and swallowed hard, to leave your stomach clenched, and teeth set on edge. You can spit it out, but you won't escape the lingering taste of smoke and ashes.

5 out of 5

Zero Dark Thirty

Directed by Kathryn Bigelow

2012, USA

Review: The Losers

Originally Posted July 23rd, 2010 

In 2010, a crack commando unit was accused of a crime they didn’t commit. Hunted by law enforcement, they promptly escaped to the underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire… The Losers!

Wait, that’s not right. That’s the set-up for the new A-Team movie. Stupid mistake. The A-Team was about an Army Ranger unit that was framed for a crime they didn't commit and had to seek out justice as fugitives from the law.The Losers is about a CIA Special Forces unit that gets framed for a crime they didn’t commit and has to get revenge while fugitives from the… huh. Well what about a van, do The Losers ever drive around in a van? …They do…Well what about an ending gun fight in a downtown harbour, I bet The Losers doesn’t have that! They do?…okay, now this is just spooky.

With The A-Team getting released barely two months after The Losers, comparisons of a Deep Impact-Armageddon variety seemed inevitable. Despite more than fifteen years separating each's source material, the set-up for both films is more or less identical, just with one elite army agency swapped out for another. Both films are sold as being flashy, brainless action romps with quasi-militaristic overtones. They both also feature cartoonishly evil bad guys, and a single female character whose sole job is to provide sexual tension. All these similarities are plenty evident, yet little mention was given when The A-Team rolled into town. That’s probably because The Losers, based on the Vertigo comic series of the same name, isn’t a particularly memorable film; it combines mediocre thrills with a mercifully short running time into a movie you’ll likely forget existed at all, let alone as a piece of parallel programming.

Starting out in the Bolivian jungle, The Losers wastes no time in acquainting you with the titular group of rough-and-tumbles. There’s the leader Clay, played by Jeffrey Dean Morgan (whose charisma is mostly owed to his tailor), the grizzled weapons man Roque, played with unflinching seriousness by an utterly wasted Idris Elba, and a surprisingly enjoyable Chris Evans, who gets plenty goofy as the techie Jensen. There’s also sniper/cowboy hat aficionado Cougar (Óscar Jaenada) and wheel man Pooch (Columbus Short). From the opening poker-game played with weapons instead of chips, it’s clear that no one could decide which character would get the title of “The Badass,” so they went ahead and gave it to everyone. After a bombing run on a drug lord is thrown off by the presence of a literal busload of children, the team, in gallant disregard for orders, intervenes, and winds up getting themselves framed by a mysterious villain known as Max. Just a tip for future reference: if mention is ever given of a change as to who’s going on the last helicopter out of dodge, get as far away from that chopper as is humanly possible. It’s not long before the gang is given means to exact their revenge thanks to the alluring Aisha (Zoe Saldana), who, despite having less meat on her than a starved gazelle, can break bones and chairs with the best of them.

That’s about all the set-up you’re going to get because once The Losers leaves the driveway, it doesn’t stop for anything. What follows is your typical checklist of action movie set pieces across some of the brightest, sweatiest places this side of the Atlantic. The amount of lens flare in some scenes made me feel physically tanner. There are flashes of excitement in most of the action sequences, but they're nothing wholly original. The meet/beat-cute between Clay and Aisha is pretty much right out of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and is mostly enjoyable because of Zoe Saldana’s complete disregard for the safety and well-being of all pieces of furniture within her five foot radius. And for as built-up as some of the action sequences get, you’re usually just left wondering, "is that it"? If a movie's main selling point is leaving physics and rationality at the door, you need full-blown commitment to lunacy, and The Losers just feels like a series of half-measures. It’s unfortunate, but airlifting an armoured car with a magnet attached to a helicopter just isn't enough these days. Here all you get are a couple of pretty good explosions sandwiched between timid gun fights and some really unconvincing CG effects.

Then again, what aspects do go for broke still find a way to make The Losers a sub-optimal viewing experience. Breaking up the shootier bits are interludes where we check in on our villain, who seems incapable of elaborating on the next phase of his diabolical plan until he’s in a new time zone. This is where any energy that gets generated by the aforementioned shooting runs into the brick wall that is Jason Patric’s performance as Max. Now, The Losers is by no means a serious film, and everybody is clearly having fun with their parts, but Jason Patric wants you to know that he is having more fun than anyone, ever, ever. With a level of restraint that makes Jack Nicholson’s Joker look docile, Patric goes out of his way in every scene to try and be menacing, but it almost always comes off as buffoonish or just plain ridiculous. After reminding his head goon how badly he needs eighteen gunmen in twelve hours, you think that there’s no possible reason that he’d repeat himself it a third time; and then he does. And then in the next scene, he orders those gunmen to be killed. Why? Because he’s evil, that’s why! At one point he responds to a bullet in his shoulder not with, you know, signs of pain, but with a level of mild annoyance reserved for when someone hits you with a rubber band. Oh, and then he sticks his finger in the wound and has a taste of his own blood, which, I imagine tastes pretty good thanks to the Cost-co sized cans of energy drinks he must have been downing between scenes.

As certifiably insane as Patric is, he’s about the only thing that’s aggressively bad about The Losers. Sure there are a myriad of gapping plot holes and unexplained motivations but this is a movie about characters and action, not story. To their credit, everyone else in the cast is competent enough and it can be occasionally fun to revel in their brainless exploits. Chris Evans is the real standout, as he manages to make the most out of every scene thanks to a mix of crass humour and brazen self-awareness. His natural response to the absurdity of bringing a crossbow to a gunfight is simply to declare “that’s right bitches, I’ve got a crossbow.”

The screenplay, written by Zodiac scribe James Vanderbilt, is drenched in these sorts of immature one-liners and really the only word I can think of to properly describe The Losers is juvenile. Every yo momma and dick joke seems perfect for the PG-13 audience the film no doubt hoped would flood cinemas but didn’t. I mean for god sakes, the bad guy’s weapon of choice is called a SNUKE. Even the film’s romantic subplot, which consists of Zoe Saldana showing up with a bottle of tequila followed by immediate boning, is designed to target barely pubescent thirteen year-olds. Which pretty much sums up The Losers; it’s all action, no foreplay and completely forgettable.

2 out of 5

2009 USA

Directed by Sylvain White

Review: Zodiac

Originally Posted June 27th, 2010

For two years, the San Francisco Bay area staged a desperate manhunt to stop the man responsible for a series of bizarre and brutal murders, between 1969, and 1971. In cryptic letters to newspapers, the killer boasted of his attacks, and made a variety of new threats involving school buses and bombs. The man, calling himself The Zodiac, would become a lightning rod for a restless American psyche otherwise occupied with the ongoing war in Vietnam. Yet, before any arrest could be made, the letters stopped, and The Zodiac vanished. With only one other authentic letter appearing in 1974, the crimes of the bay area boogeyman would quickly fade from public consciousness. To this day, the case remains open in three counties, and no arrest has ever been made.

The "one that got away" is a common component of police procedurals, usually involving a burnt out dick warning another detective not to get too deep into the job when doggedly pursuing of a killer. Losing oneself in a mystery can come at the cost of relationships and sanity. The next time you tell someone a really good brain teaser, keep the answer to yourself and see how long it takes for them to try and pry it out of you. This is probably the main reason why filming the story of the Zodiac murders has taken more than thirty years. The killings were shocking, twisted, and captivating, which are buzzwords most producers like to see on a poster. The problem: any film about Zodiac would have no ending. To this day, the true identity of The Zodiac is unknown. Now, imagine how frustrating Se7en would have been if it had ended without ever revealing the killer's identity. So it’s no small feat that David Fincher has taken the investigation that never ended and turned it into one of the best films of the last decade.

Zodiac’s greatest strength, and some would argue its greatest weakness, is its commitment to portraying the events surrounding case as truthfully as possible. The film is based on the real life accounts of Robert Graysmith, who was a cartoonist at the San Francisco Chronicle during the height of the attacks. Graysmith (played by Jake Gyllenhaal) would become more and more involved in the case as the police investigation died down. His novel of the same name is the blueprint for Fincher’s version, and it is replicated in painstaking detail. Even some of the stranger facts, such as the curiously large number of sweaters worn by Zodiac victim Michael Mageau, are included to make the stranger than fiction details of this real case all the more puzzling.

The film covers more than twenty years, starting with the first Zodiac letters and extending all the way into the 1990’s. In retelling the accounts chronologically, the majority of the film’s action sequences take place within the first hour, and even then there are only a handful. By the time lead detective Dave Toschi (Ruffalo) appears to investigate the one and only confirmed Zodiac killing in San Francisco, audience members should be prepared for an onslaught of the red stuff, and I mean tape, not blood.  This is a film where the big police victory isn’t getting the man, but is instead getting a warrant. The attention to detail given to the investigation will probably discourage viewers used to watching police paperwork covered in a quick montage.  “No need for due process right,” jokes Toschi after watching Dirty Harry, whose villain was based on Zodiac. While certainly less sexy than an episode of CSI, putting the viewer in the thick of the investigation’s minutiae properly emphasizes how easy it is to get crushed under the day-to-day of working on one case.

It’s difficult to convey to viewers how exhausting time can be in a film. A fade out can cover unfathomable amounts of time in a matter of seconds, with the audience being no worse for wear. Spanning more than three decades, Zodiac is one of those rare films that makes you feel the weight of time passing as the investigation begins to slow down. At over two and a half hours, Zodiac will test your endurance. A skyscraper is literally built before your eyes during the time between major breaks in the case. In a brilliantly constructed transition, darkness is set to the cycling sounds of pop songs and headlines from 1972, through 1977, covering America’s “Horse with no name” to The Ohio Player’s “Love Rollercoaster”. In that time, the war in Vietnam ended, and America had a new pet serial killer, the Son of Sam (who had a TV movie less than a decade after being arrested). By the third act, it seems like everyone, including Zodiac, has moved on.

This is where the film picks up speed and moves from police procedural into territory more commonly found in modern thrillers, with Gyllenhaal’s Graysmith taking over the investigation. There’s still plenty of paperwork mind you, but as Graysmith and the case slowly start to unravel, there’s a sense of foreboding that gives reading old police reports a kinetic energy bordering on full-blown frenzy. Gyllenhaal proved himself capable of a slow-burn performance in DonnieDarko, but here, his transition from boy-scout cartoonist to obsessed detective is backed by visible signs of depletion, as his fresh face slowly darkens from restless nights spent hunting a killer the world has forgotten. The soundtrack shifts from era appropriate pop songs to morbid piano pieces, all while San Francisco is caught in a never-ending rainstorm. It’s not long before Graysmith begins receiving mysterious phone calls, and it appears his life is in danger. The tension reaches a crescendo in a scene inside a California basement. It’s one of the most suspenseful and terrifying ever filmed.

Beyond the facts of the Zodiac case, the film reaches into some fairly well worn territory about the way police work stresses relationships with family or coworkers. The friendship between Graysmith and criminal reporter (and one-time Zodiac target) Paul Avery (Downey Jr.) is mostly fictionalized, but their various tête-à-têtes make for some light comic relief. If Fincher is to be faulted with anything, it’s that he cheats a bit with his ending. The film gives a certain amount of closure to the killer’s identity, which, while true to Graysmith’s book, doesn’t properly do justice to the reality, which is far more intriguing. I had never heard of the Zodiac murders until watching this movie, and in a way, I wish I never had. The world let go, and it seems that we’ll never know the truth behind who the Zodiac really was. It’s an answer that I may not like, but it’s one I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

5 out of 5

Directed by David Fincher

2007, USA