Review: “Dunkirk” — A Provokingly Mysterious Masterpiece

Edit: July 25th, 2017 (Disclaimer: there are only very minimal spoilers within this review so if you have not seen the movie, do not fret.)
Dunkirk — a film that had built up a great deal of anticipation in my mind (which is a rare occasion) — is more than it appears to be. Historical films are problematic by definition, they are often riddled with anachronistic revisionism, academic laziness, and political undertones. It is all too easy for a WWII film to be overladen with convoluted combat scenes and unconvincing drama e.g. improbable romances, false heroism, shallow puddles of camaraderie and the like. However, Dunkirk is a film directed by the highly capable Christopher Nolan. I have high regards for the Batman trilogy — I still have extremely vivid memories of gleeful excitement when I first saw The Dark Knight Rises. It was only a minor coincidence that I decided to watch Dunkirk in the exact same theater as I saw The Dark Knight Rises (naturally, in 70mm IMAX).
The film opens up not to a scene upon the beaches but looking behind six young, English soldiers walking down an avenue, presumably in the small French town of Dunkirk. Gunfire erupts and quickly several of the men fall. They try to jump over a small fence but struggle and only one makes it over — this soldier becomes the implied protagonist. He crouches behind the wall, readies his Lee-Enfield rifle, struggling to pull back the bolt and load the weapon. Soon he throws it away entirely (not unlike the BEF abandoning their many thousands of artillery guns, tanks, anti-air and other materiel) and scrambles over a ledge trying to make it to the British defenses. Eventually, we are shown an expansive view of the beaches with men in long, waving lines that directly resemble several historical photos. Anticipation is already building, it is presumed that some sort of battle will occur soon — the audience can only expect it but Nolan’s pace is a slow, calculated glide until you first hear the engines of the enemy’s planes.
Dunkirk, however, is less of a WWII film than a semi-mythic national epic. We have no contact with “the enemy”, who remained unnamed and nearly unseen in the film. There are no scenes of Brauchitsch and Rundstedt moving armies around on a giant map, we are not shown British or German generals arguing over strategy, we do not see the political and military disarray at home in London. There is no macroscopic or grand perspective in the film. Instead the film at first appears to be split over the course of at least the following scales of time: moments (seconds, minutes e.g. the present), days, and weeks. The triad of themes follow as the 1. The Mole, 2. The Sea, and the 3. The Air. Nolan moves us through these three settings in an elastic and slightly elusive manner. What is less clear to the viewer is that while the settings interweave so do the time sequences — at one point we are in the past, perhaps days or hours ago, and in another we back at the “present”. This is reminiscent of Inception (a movie I saw no less than 12 times in theaters). However, sometimes the flux of time in Dunkirk may not contribute much to either the narrative nor the film’s clear development.
The only indications of the identity of the “enemy” occur from the spotting of the Iron Cross painted on the planes, the moments when Mr. Dawson on his yacht identifies a plane as a “Heinkel”, and other such foggily subtle details such as the blurred outlines of the infamously recognizable Stahlhelms of the soldiers arresting Tom Hardy’s character. It is both a difficult and bizarre thing to completely remove all images of the “enemy” from a war film, because is that not what war is — namely, a conflict between two sides? Dunkirk gives us not a conflict but instead a sort of monolith. A monolith that sinks under its own weight, a monolith that capitulates on account of its own ineptitude. There is only the singular thesis here, a near total absence of the antithesis. Saving Private Ryan begins with the view of the enemy, we come out of the landing craft looking ahead at the German defenses, with no hesitation we emerge staring straight into the abyss just as it stares back into us. Because it lacks such a clear structural conflict, Dunkirk is immensely more frustrating and difficult to digest — but this also makes it more provoking, more opaque and mysterious than almost any other war film.
Dunkirk is something more of the Aeneid than it is similar to films such as Saving Private Ryan. Dunkirk can at times feel immensely real, personal, tense — but it suffers from myopia. It is nearly blind to world-historical content. Is this a good approach, is this the right approach? The immensity of the situation is not realized and perhaps not possible to realize without the larger context — nonetheless, this world-historical context is partially “filled in” by the viewers minds. Unfortunately this “filling-in” from the viewer is dependent upon both one’s historical education and one’s imagination. On both of those counts, the majority of people are misguided and limited. It could be argued that Nolan is “whitewashing” history and, yet again Hollywood is feeding us another deceptive facade of a historical period. I do not wholly agree with this depiction of Dunkirk. While I often favor a more worldly and historical approach, Dunkirk surpasses the limitations that these more realistic and macro-historical viewpoints would present. Dunkirk instead transcends itself into the near spiritual. It is able to glow with the spirit of the times of both June 1940 and also July 2017.
Is it possible to make a historical film that is without history, that is outside of history? Dunkirk is a minimalist reductionism of the War; if a full portrait of the conflict is a Raphael, Jacque-Louis David or Surikov then Nolan’s Dunkirk is a Rothko. Stare deeply and long enough and you will find something profound — within yourself or within the image. However, there is room for vehement criticism in terms of historical and political significance. In essence, the French were entirely abandoned both in Nolan’s piece and in 1940.
If one takes the most acrimonious stance, it could be argued that the British leadership was inept, cowardly. Despite declaring war on Germany in defense of Poland, both the French and British armies launched no offensive and did very little during the 8 months of the “phoney war”. Napoleon would admonish such massive defenses such as the Maginot line — “He who fears being conquered is certain of defeat”. With the massive offensive through the Ardennes forest and the encircling maneuvers of the German army the Allies must have been astounded. One could only imagine the shocked and confused thoughts of the crestfallen British high command: Is this not the nation of Wellington, of Lord Nelson? How have we been so swiftly defeated?
Germany conquered France in 6 weeks time, and despite the pop culture joke of the French being “cowards”, France has one of the greatest military records of any nation on earth. The French fought valiantly to delay the German armies from reaching Dunkirk, including at the battle of Lille where 40,000 French were greatly outnumbered and encircled. If the French had not gallantly fought to protect the evacuation at Dunkirk, the British might have been wholly destroyed or captured. Jacques Mandelbaum writing for Le Monde calls the film “distressingly indifferent” to the French contribution and “stingingly impolite”. Nonetheless, the Admiral at the end of the movie emotively says that he will remain, “to stay for the French” — a token line.
One could surely take the stance that the film is disrespectful towards the French, however I prefer to view the film in a different light. If Dunkirk is a “national epic” then it must keep its focus upon the British perspective — this removes variables that could otherwise muddle and obfuscate the clarity that Nolan is able to produce. Nolan uses a sponge to soak up all the unnecessary minutiae, vicissitudes, and plotlines that are not central to his purpose — and unfortunately this means that much of the historical context is wiped away as well.
The movie is painted in cool, slightly desaturated tones of the sky, the sand, the sea, the water. The sea and the water are demonstrated in different ways. The sea is both an obstacle and a safe haven — the Royal Navy had dominated the world from the sea. The British are familiar with the sea. Claustrophobic scenes of men scrambling in a room filling with water, reaching out to grasp a railing or a ladder rung so that they can escape — such scenes are indicative of water being displayed distinctly from the enormity of the sea. Neptune is not Volturnus, and there are many other gods of rivers, rain, and fountains. The sea can only be represented as a grand totality that we look down upon — we most clearly see it from the viewpoint of the pilots. We look at the sea as a massive expanse, but Nolan films various scenes that heighten the fear of water, emphasizing the overpowering effect of water rushing in and the men’s earnest, desperate attempts to escape drowning.
Dunkirk is quietly silent — not that the sounds of the movie can be quantified as producing few decibels — but rather that the dialog is limited. The dialog is carefully, wisely restrained in order that other elements speak more loudly. The gliding, fuelless Spitfire floating over the beach after downing a Stuka is a moment of reverence — one that needs no immediate discussion from the men cheering below. Too much frivolous dialog during such scenes become foolish and kitsch. There are many beautiful, nervous, violent, desperate moments in the film that require no conversations.
The film can certainly be praised for an uncompromisingly strong performance from Mark Rylance playing Mr. Dawson, the older man commanding his private yacht with his two sons. Cillian Murphy has a minor but impactful role as a mentally fragile soldier suffering from severe, acute “shell-shock”or PTSD. Tom Hardy’s pilot is the closest thing to a savior-martyr within the film. Hardy’s performance as a placid, calm pilot is brilliant. As Churchill said “Never was so much owed by so many to so few”. Or as it was said by Cicero,
A great pilot can sail even when his canvas is rent
(Magnus gubernator et scisso navigat velo)[1].
Mr. Dawson is one of the most outstanding, moving characters in the movie. We can perhaps imagine he is a WWI veteran, a relatively well off middle or upper class family man who has raised at least 3 sons and can afford a boat. Yet he assuredly volunteers himself and his pleasure yacht to save the stranded men at Dunkirk. He among all others is the one who represents the old, respectable age of Great Britain. Everything from his posturing to his calm confidence, clear focus, and tactful reticence is admirable. He is a metaphor for tenacity of Britain during the Blitz and throughout the war. The aspect which is quintessentially British, the “stiff upper lip”, the resultant clearing away of the passions for the sake of duty, is the type of restrained stoicism that Epictetus and Seneca would espouse. Mr. Dawson is masterly portrayed, as Mark Rylance is able to somehow enfuse multiple quiet, stoic scenes with silent and profound emotion. Behind the “stiff upper lip” there is great tumult that he keeps under control. I was nearly moved to tears several times, notably from scenes upon his boat Moonstone — something was behind such scenes on the yacht that I cannot describe, something deeply provoking and sorrowful. Some of the only tears that are shed in the film are those of the Admiral when he sees the plethora of small civilian vessels coming ashore to rescue the soldiers.
Several times throughout the movie we can identify moments of constraining one’s passions, the sort of passionless action that Kant would encourage in such a situation. Much of Kant’s moral philosophy emphasizes the importance of an agent with inner freedom that is self-governed by reason alone. In order to have inner freedom one must master and rule oneself, and by so doing one’s character can become noble (idem.).The duty to apathy[2] is the striving to be free of affects (feelings) and passions (Leidenschaften). Apathy (or apatheia), here, does not mean the notion that one is disinterested or ambivalent, but rather than one has mastered oneself. “Affects” are intense, “momentary, sparkling phenomenon” that overtake one’s judgement but shortly subside like a “violent tempest”[3]. Kant writes that“a violent, suddenly aroused affect (of fear, anger, or even joy), the human being is … beside himself … he has no control over himself.” For men at war, they must remain calm and without such affects ruining their composure. Mr. Dawson is phlegmatic in the most respectable of ways, even in the face of personal, familial tragedy.
Dunkirk is unlike any war movie I have ever seen perhaps since Paths of Glory. Does Nolan belong in the pantheon with Kubrick? Only time will tell. When I am asked if I “liked it”, I am unsure how to answer. It is provoking beyond all else. It has superb cinematography by Hoyte van Hoytema with sweeping, huge scenes. Dizzying, masterful dogfights felt like a VR video game. However, Nolan apparently used no CGI in this film and that is something to be applauded in this age of Transformers and Man of Steel. For the most part, Dunkirk follows a mostly logical sequence and its pacing is measured and methodical. It runs at 106 minutes, which I found to be appropriate for the amount of strained nervousness one experiences throughout this time. Both the film and the events of Dunkirk could be compared to the notion of frantically, desperately trying to escape a burning building — leaving all of one’s possessions behind. The film is a survival movie. Dunkirk hides an unseen core of profundity that we must sculpt out for ourselves. The film is a national epic, a provoking masterpiece that will continually produce complex interpretations and will age well with time.
Footnotes:
- Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium (Moral Letters to Lucilius) Letter XXX: On conquering the conqueror, line 3.
- Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals — § XVI: Virtue Necessarily Presupposes Apathy (Regarded as Strength). [6:409]
- 4:408
(N.B. I have only seen the movie once, and I feel that I will not fully grasp it until I watch it several times. After additional viewings and further reflection, it is likely that I will edit this review or produce future comments separately.)
