Alex Garland’s Civil War: gripping action that sits in an uncomfortable middle ground
Civil War is fraught with a propelling tension that takes us across a war-torn America, but carries a message that misses the mark.
RATING: ★★★★
In Civil War, Ex-Machina writer-director Alex Garland puts us right in the centre of a violent partisan conflict that is ravaging a future version of America that feels eerily close. The film’s stark visuals and rousing sound give us a front row view of the brutal, hair-raising realities of war, yet the purpose it serves is lost somewhere amongst its visceral chaos. Civil War’s depiction of the senseless yet inevitable nature of violence could be received as a warning — against what, however, is unclear. Garland doesn’t make us privy to who is fighting for what and why, and he certainly doesn’t tell us to pick a side; he simply starts the conversation and lets us fill the moral void by ourselves.
On the surface, Civil War is a road movie that follows a group of journalists on their journey through a war-torn, rapidly imploding America. The landscape created by Garland is a bleak one, full of bodies, burned out cars and gun brandishing militants. The stakes feel high from the get-go, but ramp up as stoney-faced photo-journalist Lee (Kirsten Dunst) and reporter Joel (Wagner Moura) set their sights on a seemingly impossible task; capturing a money-shot interaction with the un-named, yet suspiciously Trump-esque president of the United States (Nick Offerman), who is holed up in the White House, commanding air strikes on his own citizens. The country he leads is engaged in all out war, and for the secessionist Western Forces of Texas and California, toppling the President appears to be at the top of their agenda.
The rest of the country is dotted with Loyalist factions and differing alliances, and, besides a few scarce hints from Garland (in one scene, shots are fired at captives depending on “what kind of American” they are), the genesis of the conflict remains unclear. The allegiance of Lee and Joel is just as unclear, and the same ambiguity belies Lee’s mentor, veteran reporter Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson) and their newfound tag along, 23-year-old budding photojournalist Jessie (Priscilla star Cailee Spaeny). Together they embark on the capital, and despite Sammy and Lee’s reluctance to take on Jessie (who idolises Lee, by the way), the four create a comforting found-family dynamic that, for a moment, offers a glimmer of hopeful humanity amongst the societal ruin around them. Predictably, the solace of their press van is short-lived.
I enjoyed Civil War. It offered a thrilling, albeit terrifying theatre experience that had the entire room covering their faces and gasping before physically recoiling or jumping in their seats. It’s brutal, with bodies hanging over abandoned highways and blood splattered walkways around every corner. It demonstrates the senseless violence of war with a sickening realism that will have your stomach turning. In one scene, the team of journalists are held above a mass grave while Jesse Plemons’ character interrogates his captives, before shooting at point blank based on their answers. It is a tense, terrifyingly chaotic scene that Plemons commands with sickening conviction, a performance that leaves him as a firm stand-out.
The brutality is ramped up by Rob Hardy’s brilliant cinematography, whose commitment to never straying from the gory details, coupled with epic sound design, makes you feel like you are on the frontline, too. It’s clear that Garland’s intention was to shock, and this is elevated by frequent tonal shifts; a shot of mangled bodies transitions into a celebratory party; the sound of gunfire morphs into an alarmingly stark De La Soul needle drop which halos Joel and another combatant smiling in victory before shifting to shots of an execution. The tension of this film is unrelenting, and tangible. But beyond the surface of the action is where things start to get muddled.
Garland intended Civil War to be many things, but at the forefront was the desire to construct a tribute to what he terms the “old-fashioned press”, or traditional, unbiased photojournalism. While I’m not sure this is entirely successful, the film does create an engaging depiction of the profession. Jessie’s character is used to present the allure of frontline photography, with her initial trepidation rapidly transforming into a reckless lust to be front and centre. Her use of black and white film is an intentional throwback to the golden days of reporting that Garland is attempting to emulate, and comes as a stark contrast to the fast-paced, colourful imaging of Lee’s DSLR. Dunst’s Lee navigates the battlefields with a hardened confidence that can only be as a result of experience, and as we see her struggle through episodic shell shock, the toll of their work becomes clear.
I enjoyed this aspect for its harrowing portrayal of the intricacies of war photography, but also the way in which it highlighted a level of cynicism that is often overlooked. The journalists in this film don’t actively engage with any of the politics at play, centring themselves as unbiased onlookers. Their abstention from political affiliation will be heralded by some and berated by others, but nonetheless presents an interesting moral conundrum. To start, it questions whether photography can ever be unbiased, which is a debate within itself. Where the operator chooses to point and shoot their camera, and at whom, is a conscious and inherently biased decision; there is always something left out.
We see this in Civil War, when one character asks another if they would photograph the moment they get shot, to which they reply with a laugh, “What do you think?” Later, we see that same character choose to delete an image of a deceased friend, presumably to protect their dignity. This is a level of humanity that seems to dissipate when it comes to the photographing of unknown bodies, where the need to capture that winning picture dictates any hesitation. This isn’t to say that these photographers aren’t affected by what they see; we see the physical and mental impact of their pursuits multiple times throughout. Instead, it serves to remind us of a level of self-interest that, like it or not, exists within us all. It can’t be forgotten that their perilous journey across the country is in pursuit of getting the final scoop on the President. Capturing that death promises a lifetime of fame.
If Civil War doesn’t entirely work as a love-letter to journalism, then does it succeed in its attempt to warn against the dangers of extreme partisanship? Not really. By Garland’s own admission, Civil War intends to demonstrate that points of agreement can be found between everybody, no matter how distant their beliefs seem. He does this by having Florida and California join forces, which is a move that to us present onlookers, seems absurd. In a film that is intentionally apolitical, the purpose of this move is apparent yet it isn’t entirely successful. We don’t know why these two states are fighting together, or how their alliance even came to be — it’s justified by a simple “they’re shooting at us, so we’re shooting at them.” In turn, Garland’s warning against political division doesn’t properly materialise. This is the biggest problem with Civil War. It touches on themes that are too dangerous to leave so open-ended.
So many of the films moments — two non-white characters being killed because they’re not American, Black people being immolated, crowds of people begging for water, children playing amongst rows of tents in refuge camps — echo not just history, but the current state of the world. Garland’s use of these images mirror the pursuits of his fictional journalists, and so too does his use of archival protest footage from The Associated Press and far-right influencer Andy Ngo. These are poignant images that, when used within a politically charged context that is devoid of any of its actual politics, become an unnecessary sensationalised trick. Some will see Civil War’s objectivity as a reprieve from constant political affiliation. For others, it will be viewed as a cop out.
After all, real war rages on around us; in Palestine and across the globe. These are conflicts that are worsened by the weak-stomached, middle ground that this film employs. While Civil War presents an unforgettable, thought-provoking theatre experience that will leave your mind churning, its ultimate choice to say nothing echoes a horrible truth that so many already know. Saying nothing helps no one.
