1917: An Experience Unlike Any Other

As much as we've discussed the luxury of Roger Deakins's perceived one-take gimmick in 1917, I'd argue that this movie's occasional brilliance lies mainly in its simplicity, not to distract from Mr. Deakins's breathtaking work. Directed by Sam Mendes (Skyfall), this is a movie I've seen perhaps a dozen times. Yes. A dozen. It's a movie that smartly ends in the same way it begins, and even if its schtick of a single shot limits it in some ways, it's the small things that add much to Blake and Schofield's journey across the dangerous, dirty, infamous stretch of ground called no man's land and beyond. This has been one of my favorite war movies for quite some time now, and the vision of The Great War that 1917 brings to life is startling and entrancing in a way I've never seen produced before and certainly never seen replicated after. The stakes of this movie are simple, yet universally empathetic; an ambitious British colonel is determined to attack the German front line tomorrow morning, but he's unaware that a trap has been set up for him. If the two men can't warn him in time, it will be a massacre. Worst of all, Blake's brother is among the men set to go over the top tomorrow with the colonel's forces. 1917 never tries to make more of itself than it is, yet it remains heavy throughout for obvious reasons without ever feeling contrived.

More than anything else, 1917 is an experience movie, and that's not entirely a bad thing, not really close. There are a total of thirty-four hidden cuts in this movie, but apart from one misadventure on the part of our soldiers, it plays as though it were two unbroken shots. One-shot gimmicks have been used before, but in the capable hands of veteran cinematographer Roger Deakins, 1917 looks more than just cool. It looks beautiful. Like I said, it's more of an experience movie than anything else, and such an effect prioritizes the overall experience. Of course, there are imperfections in this movie's choreography that editors would usually hide with a quick cut to something else - an awkward stumble, a strange silence that drags on longer than one might expect - but if you ask me, these minor flaws add to the authenticity of an experience such as this one. Speaking of authenticity, in preparation for the filming of this movie, the crew dug approximately one mile of replica trenches, possibly the dirtiest aspect of the war. These trenches look marvelous. The production design of 1917 is top-notch, from uniforms to weapons to trenches. Several major publications have written in-depth on this movie's production design, and rightfully so. 1917 looks incredible.

By design, the dialogue of 1917 is some of the most natural-sounding I've ever heard, with Blake and Schofield's personal stories and anecdotes being one of my favorite parts of the entire movie. I felt like I was travelling with and getting to know both men, not because they ever said anything profound, but because they talk just like the rest of us do. Their hopes, dreams, fears, and regrets are the same as ours, and the illusion of one, singular take gives this dialogue a believable edge quite unlike almost anything else out there. Sound-wise, Thomas Newman's incredible score also brings a lot to the table. It knows when to be ambient and droning and when to be sweeping. It adds layers to the experience and creates moments that have stuck with me for a long time. Of course, its ambient nature will hit differently than some may expect it to because of this movie's illusion of a singular shot, but as someone who dabbled in music and choir for eight years, I'm content to let a score this well-composed do whatever it likes. 1917 is a grand and loud movie built around spectacle, so it's remarkable that its most affecting moments happen to be its quietest. I won't key you in on these poignant moments even a little bit - you'll know them when you see them, when you feel them. But none of this is to downplay the spectacle. The experience of watching this movie is utterly unique. Its World War One setting grants it familiar features, but its technical achievements and, more importantly, its unmistakable authenticity lend it weight and importance. This movie is important. You'll likely feel worn out after watching it, like you've run a race.

People of the time called World War One The War to End All Wars, and it's easy to see why. Forty million people died over a span of four years, and as we humans are prone to do, we overshadowed it with a war that was even worse, not much more than three decades later. But what stands out to me about World War One is that it was the war where we first turned the technology of the modern day on our fellow man en masse. From planes to tanks to machine guns to poison gas, the First World War captured a dirty, dangerous monotony that the increasingly mechanized Second World War could not. On July 1st, 1916, almost twenty thousand British soldiers were killed in a single ill-advised attack across no man's land that accomplished next to nothing, and this was only the worst example of a common and injudicious attack strategy that took millions of lives. I understand that our ideology-obsessed society fixates on the good and the ugly of World War Two and the reasons it was fought, but the Great War was fought over political boundary lines that few of the soldiers on the ground even cared about, and I find that tragic. And yet, humans have a penchant for finding beauty amidst the worst our race has to offer. For a dark and sometimes-loud movie made for the sake of a single, impressive take, it's ironically in the quiet where 1917 shines the brightest.

1917 has a delightfully old-fashioned quality to it. Its main trick of what appears like one single take grounds it in a grim yet somehow beautiful historical reality. You don't simply watch 1917. This is truly a movie that happens to you. I won't lie, this shooting technique - its most distinctive and talked-about trait - lends itself better to experiential drama than a carefully-plotted story, but never have I ever seen any drama, historical or otherwise, so enchantingly all-consuming. Its imperfections lend it a startling believability more often than they detract from it. 1917 is the type of movie to rub your face in the blood-soaked mud of the trenches before bathing you in the almost-heavenly light of a flare that is, ironically enough, being launched to find our heroes to send them somewhere else. I sometimes felt as though I were actually travelling with Blake and Schofield to deliver an urgent message to an all-too-eagerly ambitious colonel, and the one-take tactic of this movie does its urgency a lot of favors while understandably giving both critics and audiences a lot of unfamiliar points to talk about. Understandably enough, its choreography may lack the spit-shined polish of some more conventional war movies, but 1917 makes up for it by telling a story like those we've all heard in a way it's never quite been told before.

1917 - 8/10

Isaiah 2:1-5