War for the Planet of the Apes: An Epic, Tragic Conclusion

War for the Planet of the Apes pays relentless homage to cinema's diverse history while also remixing it into something visionary. It has a lot in common with Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, its trilogy's middle act, but still carves out its own place in the world by integrating the militaristic camaraderie of Platoon, the scale of epics like The Ten Commandments, and the search-and-destroy journey arc of Apocalypse Now, complete with graffiti in an underground tunnel spelling out Ape-pocalypse Now, as if it were telling audiences that acknowledging your influences is okay. It could not have existed outside of the context of either the rest of its trilogy or the movies that inspired it, yet it somehow completes the story while doing more than enough to stand out from both the rest of the trilogy and its inspirations. Beyond even that, this movie's heart is absolutely huge, and it wears it shamelessly on its sleeve. It is a story told on a gigantic scale that still flawlessly conveys the intimacy it so obviously holds near and dear to that massive heart.

As good as both of them were, the previous two movies in this trilogy were about Caesar's relationships with those around him, whereas War is the first and only movie that's really about him, at least on the level seen here. It's been two years since Dawn of the Planet of the Apes kicked off an all-out war between the intelligent apes of the California redwoods and humanity's desperately ruthless remnants, and Caesar has changed, and changed quite a bit. His vocabulary has disproportionally ballooned to the point where he's pretty much talking on the level of a normal, wildly self-serious human. That said, this is a very serious and tragic movie that takes the concept of talking apes completely seriously. There is truly something to be said about a well-made, high-concept science fiction movie that has more in common thematically with Schindler's List than it does the crowdpleasers it's similar to on paper.

The rest of this movie's cast keeps pace with Caesar's brilliant portrayal courtesy of Andy Serkis, with the reprehensible but undeniably logical Colonel McCullough serving as a brilliant foil to the conflicted and vengeful ape and possibly the best villain of this trilogy. He paints himself as humanity's savior, and possesses a Kurtz-like mythos that will only draw more comparisons to Apocalypse Now, and not in a bad way. Whereas Koba was a tortured anti-villain with motives some might empathize with, McCullough seems to know he's evil on some level, yet sees his villainy as necessary to save what's left of humanity. If this whole cast is sounding like a downer, you're not entirely wrong for thinking that - save for both the mute child Nova, whose innocence contrasts beautifully with the darkness of the film, and the tragically comic Bad Ape, whose smart and contextually fitting comic relief soothes the serious tone without undercutting it. Nevertheless, War is smartly Caesar's movie through and through, and you will be confronted with many sides of his character, some beautiful, and others tragically and uncomfortably so.

This is a movie about revenge and forgiveness, and in its devastating context, which I'll omit for the sake of spoilers, sacrificing your soul for the sake of delivering personal justice or offering mercy is the impossible dilemma Caesar is faced with. War is a very theme-heavy movie, one that leans entirely on the possibility of Caesar showing his enemies mercy while they give him every single reason in the world not to. You'll likely feel very conflicted while watching it, and that's the point. The Colonel is evil enough to keep it from backsliding into easy bothsidesism, though Caesar's better angels are convincing enough that some will want him to kill the Colonel, while others will hope he chooses mercy. Its ideas are lofty, and this is both its biggest strength and an accessory to its only weakness.

The one thing that doesn't work about this movie is that its individual acts don't mesh as well with the others as they should. There are two movies here: one is a seek-and-destroy movie, the other a prison-break film. They don't build on each other as much as they do compete for relevance. I don't like using the term "structural issues" in my reviews anymore, because ninety-nine percent of the time I hear it, it's nothing but a cool-sounding cop-out to avoid having to explain what exactly those issues are, but War would have been better off completely axing its journey segment and committing to its prison break one. I get that structural integrity isn't exactly what this movie is trying to accomplish, but it sometimes sacrifices it at the altar of deep thinking.

Still, most of this movie's practical pieces mesh, and all of its higher-thinking ones mesh better than they should. War for the Planet of the Apes is very emotional, an epic tragedy and intimate character study that's sometimes dressed up as a popcorn flick but mostly presented as a reimagining of the visual and thematic tropes of a war movie. I hope you don't cry easily at the notion or depiction of animal abuse, because if you do, you should bring a box of tissues or five. Nevertheless, what is most impressive about it is that, like the two movies before it, it grounds both its high-concept ideas and its unapologetic tear-jerking in three-dimensional, complex characters caught between doing what's right and what's easy, or even just practical. One could even say that every character in this movie is defined either as a hero or a villain by their reaction to trauma.

Matt Reeves set out to subvert the expected tropes of a summer blockbuster, a war movie, and an action movie, and he throws all of them into the blender, hits puree, and creates something both unique and yet absolutely assured in its identity. This trilogy is a rare phenomenon, a consistently great series of movies that caters unapologetically to some of cinema's simpler aspects while also putting those elements in firm subjection to weighty, heartfelt ends. War, in particular, is going to be loved by audiences, and the sadder it makes them, the more they're going to love it. It's good filmmaking, but also emotionally resonant on a level that will reach a lot of people. Many will adore it, even if they can't put into words why.

This movie finds innocence and beauty amidst tragedy, and it's not unlike a warm and tender hug on a cold night. It drags you through a firmly grown-up hell, yet wears its heart on its sleeve with the tenderness of a child. It is a beautiful contradiction, like listening to someone you love tuck you into bed and sing a lullaby while bombs explode above your underground shelter. It is one beautiful, coherent machine that understands that the fundamental truths of life and death complement each other better than they contradict one another. On some level, you'll find yourself missing the more tender moments when they're overshadowed by the brutality of the movie's titular war, but when they approach you as genuinely and even stealthily as they do, their earnest beauty may make you legitimately wonder how you ever lived without them.

War for the Planet of the Apes - 9/10

Proverbs 16:8-9