“1917” is a simple story of duty wrapped up in a high gloss technological package that delivers a vividly immersive look at life during wartime.
Designed to look like one continuous shot, the action in “1917” begins in the trenches of Northern France with two men, Lance Corporals Schofield (George MacKay) and Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman), assigned a dangerous mission. With telephone lines down, their general (Colin Firth) dispatches the pair travel through No Man’s Land on foot to the front lines. If they can make it past the barbed wire, booby traps and German snipers, they are to deliver the message that the Germans have set a trap, enticing the unwitting British to attack. “If you fail,” says the general, “it will be a massacre.” If Schofield and Blake are successful they could save 1600 lives, including Blake’s Lieutenant brother (Richard Madden). But first they must travel through eight miles of the most dangerous territory on earth.
It’s easy to feel that “1917” is a gimmick film. In the opening scenes I found the continuous, one shot nature of the filmmaking a distraction. I kept wondering, “How is Sam Mendes doing this?” or looking for clever, surreptitious edits. It took me out of the story but once accustomed to the gliding camerawork by the legendary Roger Deakins I began to focus on the story’s tale of bravery and resilience and less on the trickery that created it.
The horrors of war are duly represented—there’s barbed-wire, dead, rotting bodies litter the landscape and a bombed-out town is nothing more than the skeletons of buildings—but “1917” doesn’t focus on that. This is a contemplative story of a mission and the men who sacrifice their own safety for the greater good. It highlights the ever-present danger of attack but it’s the character’s emotional journey that makes for the compelling story. Blake wants to stop his brother from walking into a trap while Schofield is driven by a sense of duty. Both men are working for the collective, which in our era of the individual, is a potent reminder of the importance of cooperative effort.
“1917” is a beautifully grim movie. Death lurks around every corner and the success of Blake and Schofield’s mission is never assured. Hope is a remote, elusive concept in the theatre of war but Mendes weaves in enough humanity—the relationship between the soldiers, a scene with a French mother and her daughter—to give us a window into the horrors of war.
Richard sits down with Dean-Charles Chapman and George MacKay, the two stars of the Fist World War epic “1917” to discuss creating the characters and the challenges of the one-shot technique used to film the movie.
SYNOPSIS: At the height of the First World War, two young British soldiers, Schofield (Captain Fantastic’s George MacKay) and Blake (Game of Thrones’ Dean-Charles Chapman) are given a seemingly impossible mission. In a race against time, they must cross enemy territory and deliver a message that will stop a deadly attack on hundreds of soldiers—Blake’s own brother among them.
It’s hard to know whether “Captain Fantastic,” a new drama starring Viggo Mortensen as a task master father raising a brood of philosopher kings in a forested paradise right out of Plato’s Republic, is a condemnation of the American Dream or parody of hippie ideals or both. By the time the unconventional family celebrates Noam Chomsky Day instead of Christmas it’s hard to know whether to giggle at the absurdity of the situation or cry at the earnestness of the film’s intent.
Mortensen is Ben, father of six, husband of Leslie (Trin Miller). They have made their home deep in the forest of the Pacific Northwest. As Leslie lies dying in a faraway hospital, Ben puts his kids through a boot camp of rigorous physical and intellectual training. They rock climb, participate in coming of age rituals, learn about quantum entanglement and at night sit around a campfire eating the days kill and reading books like “The Brothers Karamazov.”
They are a tight unit untouched by the outside world. Home schooled and trained the kids each speak six languages and are all, even the youngest ones, self sufficient, but is Ben helping or hurting the kids? Does his unwillingness to bend in his extreme opinions make him a caring father or a fascist who has not prepared his kids to be out in the world?
The answer to that question comes, sort of, when he makes an announcement. “Last night mommy killed herself. She finally did it. Your mother is dead and nothing is going to change.” A cross-country trip to Leslie’s funeral, a place where Ben is not welcome, makes him confront his ideas on parenting.
The most fantastic thing about “Captain Fantastic” is Mortensen’s performance. As Ben he is a plain spoken, rough-hewn man so convinced of his correctness he is willing to risk the lives of his children. Underneath the bluster, however, is a man who cares deeply about his family and his late wife. He’s a man of extremes—both in beliefs and actions—but his love and his grief are heartfelt, even if they are run through Ben’s unforgiving filter. Mortensen makes an unlikeable character likeable and that goes a long way to making the film enjoyable.
Otherwise the journey to Leslie’s final resting place is an occasionally bumpy ride. The feral kids speak Esperanto, pontificate on the US Constitution and sit, gobsmacked, at the sight of their first videogame and it is in these moments that parody seems to nudge its way into the storytelling. The hippie heaven Ben builds for his kids is less a nirvana than a cage to protect them from what he sees as the evils of the world. He teaches them to survive in the wild, but it seems unlikely any of them could survive a solo subway ride.
“Captain Fantastic” loses more steam in a rushed final act, but luckily Mortensen is there to keep it interesting.
