War satire falls short of a classic
Print Edition
HERE’S a general rule of thumb: If you’re going to rely heavily on voiceover to tell your movie’s story, and exclusively so in the first 15 minutes with an assault of colorful character introductions, you’d do well to make sure that the narrator is a compelling one.
Unfortunately for writer and director David Michod’s satire “War Machine,” Scoot McNairy is not that narrator. A fine actor, yes, but one whose disconnected voice is at best unremarkable and at worst like Tobey Maguire on sedatives.
Alas, it is McNairy’s sleepy, lengthy exposition which kicks off, and drives, “War Machine,” a smart and genuinely interesting but overstuffed critique of modern warfare and the men in charge that also inelegantly whiplashes between absurdism and sincerity. And, yet, while it might not reach the heights of classics like “Catch-22,” or “M-A-S-H,” a strong and sobering third act makes “War Machine” worthy and thought-provoking.
At the center is Brad Pitt’s General Glen McMahon, a four-star tasked with heading up military operations in Afghanistan. McMahon is a caricature of General Stanley McChrystal, the former commander of US and NATO forces in Afghanistan, who was destroyed by an inflammatory Rolling Stone article by the late Michael Hastings. The article painted McChrystal’s team as arrogant and anti-authoritarian and featured derogatory comments they made about the Obama administration.
Michod attempts to infuse that sort of rebel energy and vigor into “War Machine,” focusing heavily on McMahon’s robotic drive, delusional megalomania and his miscreant hangers-on.
Pitt uses everything in his arsenal to fully embody this man whose entire existence is given worth through war.
Michod adapted “War Machine” from Hastings’ 2012 book “The Operators: The Wild & Terrifying Inside Story of America’s War in Afghanistan.” McNairy plays the Hastings stand-in — a rumpled Rolling Stone reporter named Sean Cullen who we don’t actually meet until about halfway through.
Where “War Machine” really finds its stride, however, is in the human margins outside of the reporter’s purview — especially in scenes involving the young soldiers on the ground who are haunted and conflicted by the confusing and unspecific directives given to them.
In the past, Michod has excelled in stripped down milieus, like in the slow-burning “The Rover,” and he does not disappoint in executing the final tragic mission, laced with heart-pounding dread and soul-aching futility.
But it’s a slog to get to the powerful conclusion, which is more nuanced, fair and bleak than the over-the-top first two acts. This might not be the classic modern military satire we needed, but it is a start.
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