War Machine
Starring Brad Pitt, Ben Kingsley, Meg Tilly
Directed by David Michod
Rating: * ½(one a half stars)
Last week THE Brad Pitt was in Mumbai to promote his new film which was released on Netflix this week.
Now after seeing this dreadful war saga I realize Mr. Pitt was wasting his time trying to generate interest in a film that is so outrageously mediocre and so self righteously ‘American’ in tone you wonder what Brad was promoting: the film or its heavily underlined message of American patriotism.
War Machine is one of those rare battle-scarred films that the actors try hard to prop up with a blitzkrieg of bravado. But the vacuousness and vapidity of the content is impossible to conceal. This is a film that wants to cry for its beloved country and its brave soldiers who leave family and home to rough it out in the hostile impenetrable hinterland of Afghanistan.
Director David Michod (best known for the wickedly quirky Australian crime drama Animal Kingdom) hits the shrill notes soon enough as the narrative introduces us to General Glen McMohan who is so full of it—Trump-esque bravado, I mean—you want to flip him over and shake him until he stops behaving like General Patton on a night when he just couldn’t get it up. The troops, I mean…
It isn’t McMohan’s fault, really. It’s the way Brad Pitt plays him. The superstar, as American as ‘We Hate Osama’ teeshirts, grabs the character by his jowls and goes right into its bowels in pursuit of the “real American patriot.”
It is an over-stuffed, grossly exaggerated performance, anointed by cheesy ‘grey’ makeup, replete with the clichés of soldiering that we thought died with George C Scott’s General George Patton.
Brad has neither the booming baritone nor the bristling energy to carry off the majestic shifts of wartime machismo that made Patton so imposing. Brad’s soldiering sensitivities make McMohan more a brat than a hero. Ben Kingsley as the oblivious President Of Afghanistan steals the show in one sequence where Pitt comes visiting in Kingsley’s bedroom.
Kingsley explains to Pitt what the makers of this film fail to understand: sometimes it is best to let sleeping dogs lie.
There are some very interesting foot soldiers in this messed up mega-catastrophe, played by actors who seem to know the purpose of their visit into this tortuously defensive tale of the American will to poke its nose into foreign affairs. Some actors rise above the morass created by a director who thinks war is a zone that cinema can crashland into without a map.
There are some moments that rise above the banality of the bravado to claim some seriousness of intent. The very talented Meg Tilly (still remembered for her star turn in Agnes Of God decades ago) shows up as Brad’s wife trying hard to empathize with his obsession with battle-front heroism. She vaguely reminded me on Anjali Tendulkar who incidentally doesn’t try to act in the new Sachin Tendulkar bio-pic that came out this week.
You wish some of the principal actors in War Machine would also have desisted from ‘acting’ so extravagantly. With a sledgehammer’s subtlety this utterly misguided film reminds us that Uncle Sam needs to be in difficult places because, well, he knows best.
Brad Pitt won’t argue with that. He just visited India.
