I read a review about Alex Garland’s Civil War saying it was a horror movie. And while I have become rather fond of war films and the gruesome truth they bring, nothing could have prepared me for the gut punch this film gave. Starring Kirsten Dunst and Cailee Spaeny, the film follows war photographers in a dystopian United States reaped with secession and civil war. Despite some of Garland’s writing falling a little short, the self-reflexive nature of the camera makes Civil War one of the most important war films of the decade.
The film’s ongoing war is briefly introduced to us by the President of the United States, played by Nick Offerman. He outlines two different groups of secessionists: The Texas-Californians and the Floridians. I remember hearing a lot of criticism about this plot decision when the film’s first trailer dropped. Texans and Californians? Some of the most red and blue states in the US? The absurdity of this alliance and the confusion about the entire situation–which is never cleared up or explained in the film–immediately makes it clear that the film is not about the dystopian ‘red vs. blue’ war that we were all expecting. The question becomes, well what is it about then?
Cutting immediately from the President’s announcement, we are introduced to photographer Lee Smith (Dunst) watching the announcement in her hotel room as explosions go off in the background. Lee and her journalist partner, Joel (Wagner Moura), are in New York, covering the unrest and lack of resources. While photographing a crowd-turned-riot over the lack of water, Lee meets Jessie, a young, wide-eyed photographer looking to start her career. Lee is her hero, and Jessie forces her way into a car with Lee, Joel, and another journalist, Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson) on their way to Washington D.C — where they expect the last of the United States, and the President, to fall.
From here, the plot is simple. The journalists travel farther down the eastern US to the warzone that is Washington DC. In a very road-trip-movie style, they meet various groups of refugees, extremists, and Americans fighting from all sides.
The film is cleverly apolitical despite being about the Second American Civil War. Apolitical in the sense that it isn’t about American politics, since we have no clear alliance or an idea of “the good and bad side.” Rather, the film’s political implications lie in its antiwar message and notes of criticism for the exploitation of gruesome images.
Even in the tensest moment of the film, when the journalists are held at gunpoint by a small group of militiamen with unknown allegiances, who have been dumping bodies into a crude mass grave, the film refuses to draw simplistic political lines. One of the most profound lines uttered in this scene by Jesse Plemons, who brilliantly cameos as the lead unhinged militiaman, “What kind of American are you?” speaks to the overwhelming formidable, complex, and absurd realization that there are now “types” of Americans. What’s unfortunate is none of these ideas are completely resolved. In a way, the film gets lost in its own complexities.
The idea of following war photographers is an almost genius act of self-reflection that complements the refusal to pick a side. Lee is the caricature of a seasoned journalist or filmmaker who has captured some of the most gruesome images known to man. Her foil is a young, bright-eyed Jessie ready to get into the field without knowing the true toll it takes on a person to watch horrors unfold and not act on them. The tragedy of Lee and Jessie’s relationship is that Lee sees so much of herself in Jessie that she is sickened by the fact that people like her have to continue to exist.
In a way, the film acts as a “passing of the torch” from one generation to the next. Lee takes Jessie under her wing, mentoring her and bringing her into the field. What Lee is unable to cope with is that it is possible her work never mattered. There are still images to be taken. War continues, and the images Lee took to show the world its own horrors didn’t stop people from acting in unimaginably violent ways. Now it is Jessie’s turn to take them. It’s no surprise that this personification of passing between generations culminates into a very climactic, almost campy ending.
Dunst and Spaeny are perfect arcs of each other, and their individual performances are only elevated by their scenes together. Dunst has mastered the art of subtle acting. Her performance of a character who has witnessed and continues to witness unspeakable acts of violence comes with subdued layers that are ever so slowly peeled back as she begins to crumble. In the beginning, she is hard, and all about business. Take the photos and don’t ask questions. As she forms a motherly relationship with Jessie and sees how war continues despite her hopes that the images she captures “will act as a warning,” she begins to crack. First, we see her existentialism in her eyes, depression sets in, and in the end, she is both frozen and hysterical. Unable to be the great photographer she once was, Jessie steps in as the new brave artist.
Spaeny’s performance is the complete, perfect opposite. She is talkative, overly curious, and still craves fun. In the lighter moments, between the tragedies, she laughs, talks, and asks hard questions. As the film develops, she becomes more hardened by the scenes she witnesses. Slowly, the violence doesn’t bother her, so much so that it brings a rush, and she grows hungrier for the best image. As she thrives in the climactic Washington DC battle, Lee falls, unable to find the same hunger for the perfect image. Because to her, what was the point?
The supporting cast is rather limited. Lee and Jessie travel with two other journalists, but after that, the rest of the characters are flat, only there to further the plot or serve as subjects for their images. Moura as Lee’s partner is another fascinating complement to Lee’s hardened demeanor. Joel is charismatic, talkative, and sarcastic, and he turns to drinks, drugs, and random conversations to fill the void. Moura is wonderful at portraying a professional trying to hide his pain; the way he flips from bubbly to destroyed. The only issue is despite little moments of vulnerability, his character exists only to react to situations.
Stephen McKinley Henderson as Sammy is just as underdeveloped as a supporting character. As an older journalist, Lee sees him as a danger to himself and others due to his lack of mobility. Slowly, as Lee’s more vulnerable side is shown, we see that he is a mentor to yet another generation hardened by war, and he is worried for those he will eventually leave behind. Unfortunately for his character, there is little individuality and only reactive development. Truthfully, this film was just for Dunst and Spaeny’s characters. The rest of the world around them, and the war, were secondary.
Beautiful cinematography makes Civil War a tragic delight. Cinematographer Rob Hardy and Garland were backed into a corner by making a film about photographers–they had to show the images at some point. Amid the violence, battles, and tense moments of pure horror, a quick “click” and the image appeared right before cutting back to the traumatic events taking place. If the film has any award potential, it’s in its sound design. Silence within the well-constructed, loud war zones makes for a compelling, horror-like experience (jumpscares included).
What is interesting is that the still images incorporated into the cinematography are never used in the diegesis film. The only “audience” they reach is us. Seeing what the photographers were capturing versus what we were witnessing, one can’t help but ponder the power a camera and the operator have. Whether it be a filmmaker or a photographer, the images we see are controlled by them. It is unfortunate we never saw them affect the public. In Garland’s defense, it is possible he hoped the images would affect us, acting as the American public.
I refer back to my original thought about Civil War as a horror movie. Is it? Despite the gruesome images we witnessed and the sheer terrifying nature of war, the scariest part of the film was the reality Garland and the rest of us are facing. The country and the world are divided. It doesn’t matter what side you are on, everything ends the same way. And for Garland, the tragedy is much deeper: for those brave enough to show the worst images of human nature to the world, at the moment, their work isn’t stopping the cycle of violence.
I guess we can only hope that one day the images we see will inspire us to make a peaceful change.
Review Courtesy of Sara Ciplickas
Feature Image Credit to A24 via Vulture