Fury
 |
| Good acting, Shia, but I don't know about that mustache... |
American
tank movies are few and far between in cinematic history possibly because of
the less than enthralling claustrophobic quality of a tank. It might also have something to do with the
fact that the German tanks were superior to American tanks during World War II
so there aren’t many feel-good, gung-ho true stories to work with. This might be why writer/director David Ayer
decided to write a fictional story for his tank movie, Fury. But while the film might be a bit gung-ho,
there is certainly nothing feel-good about it.
Fury, at its core, is a miserable story about the horrors of war. It doesn’t dwell on the horror or even
condemn it, however. Instead, the focus
is on what war does to a man, or group of men, in this case. Fury is a warts and all depiction of
brotherhood through war. Most war films
cover this unique relationship, but few filmmakers have realized that the tank
is the perfect setting to condense that complicated situation into a film. (The only film that came to mind as I watched
this was The Beast, an under-watched 1988 film about a Russian tank crew in
Afghanistan.) While the inside of a tank
does not make for a compelling visual, it does wonders for character
interaction.
The
characters are what make Fury interesting, but also strange. The plot of the film is essentially about a
newcomer, Norman (Logan Lerman), to the crew of the titular tank, Fury, and his
initiation by fire (quite literally) into World War II. Since this is a fictional story, there is no
historic grand battle for Fury to take part in, instead the plot is relegated
to vague missions about “holding the line” and not giving up. The story truly does not matter since this is
a character study. It is a strange
character study because we learn almost nothing about most of the characters
apart from their role in the war. Some
might see this as a weakness, but it is actually beneficial to the story. Fury does not attempt to create complete
characters, just men shaped by war. It
isn’t important to know what Brad Pitt’s character did before the war. Perhaps it would add a level of complexity to
the proceedings if it turned out that this brutal man was actually a librarian
or something, but that would be cheesy and unnecessary. No matter what jobs these characters had back
home, there job now is to kill other people.
Fury attempts to show the disturbing effects war has on the
soldiers. Whether or not it successfully
does that is up for debate.
When we
meet the tank crew, they are already battle-hardened and on edge. Don “Wardaddy” Collier (Pitt) is the tough
leader, whose most important mission is to protect his men. (There is actually no point in naming the
other characters because their names are fairly forgettable and/or
underused. In fact, I didn’t know what
Brad Pitt’s character’s name was until I looked it up on IMDb a few minutes
ago. This all goes back to the lack of
character development beyond the moment of each scene.) The other men in the tank are played by Shia LaBeouf
(the religious one), Jon Bernthal (the redneck), Michael Peña (the driver), and
Logan Lerman (the new guy). Just because
the names of the characters are not important does not mean that these are
one-note characters. It just means they
can be identified more easily by their first impression.
Instead
of getting to know these characters in depth, we just discover them in battle,
which is the point of the film. If Fury has something to say about the effects of war on a person, then knowing anything
about that character beforehand belittles that point. It does not matter what these characters were, look at what they have
become. And they have become brutal,
cold killing machines. This makes Fury more of a spiritual companion to Full Metal Jacket more than Saving Private
Ryan. Although, tonally, this film is
even more depressing than Jacket. All
of the main characters say or do things that make you wonder whether they are “good”
men throughout the film. They are never
meant to be hated, though, quite the opposite.
These men are meant to be pitied for what war has done to them. Because of that, and because of casting, it’s
easy to end up liking this crew, despite some of their harsher moments.
Brad
Pitt brings some natural authority to his role, and he’s as likable as
always. It was a bit hard to divorce
this character from the one he played in Inglourious Basterds, however. It’s not that they are all that similar
(though they both are very good at killing NATzees…), it’s just that the roles
are close together in his filmography.
Bernthal provides the sole comedic relief of the film with his almost
cartoonish redneck antics, and that is certainly welcome in such grim
proceedings. Peña is proving to be a
very diverse actor with this role (I know him mostly from comedies like Eastbound
& Down and Observe and Report).
Lerman doesn’t get a lot to do aside from look scared/angry, but he
handles it well. Surprisingly (to me, at
least), LaBeouf was the most impressive.
Perhaps it’s because of his off-screen behavior, but he’s hard to take
seriously. But here, he truly appeared
to be in the moment, and his performance allowed his character to be the most
complex of the film.
The
performances in a war film are the most important aspect of it, especially if
it is making a statement on war itself.
But it’s also very important to present the action in a realistic way,
as well. Fury has some of the most
effective and tense battle sequences of recent memory. It is also shockingly gory at times. It does tiptoe that fine line between realism
and glorification, but realism does win out, for the most part. There are still battle sequences that the
more gung-ho viewer can fist pump to, but most viewers will feel the brutality rather than cheer it
on. The only thing that hampers the
action is the music.
Normally,
the score to a war film is naturally patriotic, somber, rousing, etc. And that is as it should be. But Fury is an anti-war film meant to
display the real brutality of the violence.
There was no soundtrack during the real battles of WWII, and Fury would have been even more effective if the filmmakers would have left out the
soundtrack as well. The audience doesn’t
need “sad” music playing when characters have died to let us know that it is
sad. It is just insulting to the
audience to think that they wouldn’t know when to feel sad. Also, using music that sounds borderline
militaristic during battle scenes takes away from the realistic tone the film
was going for. It doesn’t ruin the film,
but it certainly cheapens it from time to time.
When it comes to disturbing violence, silence is the most effective
option.
Despite
that slight misstep, Fury should go down as one of the better war films in
recent decades. While it wasn’t
memorable enough to be considered one of the best ever (the topic of war has
just been covered too much for new ground to be broken…), it has certainly
earned its place as one of, if not the, best tank film ever made.
Fury receives a:
