One Battle After Another - Time Doesn't Exist, Yet It Controls Us Anyway

I’m dabbling with submitting reviews for a local newspaper again, so the first part of this is my spoiler and vulgarity-free thoughts on One Battle After Another. I’ll go free-form in the Random Thoughts section. 

As a huge fan of Paul Thomas Anderson (There Will Be Blood is one of my favorite films of all time), One Battle After Another is easily the most anticipated movie in recent memory. That anticipation coupled with the nearly universal early praise for the film worried me: could this film possibly live up to its expectations? To be brief, yes. But I’ll give you the long-winded answer, too.

One Battle is one of those special films that can be entertaining completely at face value, but you can also apply theories to it. The basic storyline of an ex-revolutionary-in-hiding forced to come back to action to try to save his teenage daughter is enough to make the nearly three hour run time feel brief. But there’s also a metaphor for parenting in general to appreciate.

The film never stops. An extended prologue introduces us to the French 75, a group fighting against the immigration policies of the country. They attack detention centers and blow up government buildings. This aspect of the story will undoubtedly trigger some viewers, but I promise this is not a preachy film. There are white supremacists and revolutionaries and detained immigrants and that might offend some viewers, but that’s also the world we live in, so I don’t know why it would. And that’s the point of the film, in a way. This world is one battle after another, and things don’t change that much. That is why it isn’t preachy; it’s simply stating that it is what is, and this is a story about people fighting those battles.

Maybe I’m wrong and no one will care (so far, I haven’t seen much outrage about the film, but then again, I don’t think the people it would anger even know it exists, much less want to watch it). I found the setting effective as it puts the immigration crisis in the background of the film as this tense spectre surrounding everyone involved.

Tension is one of the strengths of the film. Leonardo Dicaprio (the aforementioned ex-revolutionary) spends pretty much the whole film flailing and failing to find his daughter. He is constantly moving even though he doesn’t seem to be aware of where he is or where he is going at any given moment. That, coupled with Jonny Greenwood’s predictably great score, give the movie a constant sense of unease as anything can happen at any moment. But it’s also funny because Dicaprio has become so inept and burnt out over the years that he can’t even remember the codewords and phrases necessary to get information from his former group. The comedy is the lifesaver of the film, otherwise it would be an exercise in tense misery.

Dicaprio’s inability to accomplish much of anything for most of the film presents the metaphorical aspect: parenthood. You don’t need to be a parent yourself to understand Dicaprio’s struggle in the film. His sole goal is to protect his daughter, but he’s unable to both because of his own failings and a world he can’t control. That’s parenting for everyone, even people who aren’t former revolutionaries. You want the best for your children, and you want them to always be safe. But, especially as they get older, things get out of hand. You can’t be with your kids all the time, and even if you could be, you can’t stop every bad thing from happening to them. But you can try. As the film title states, it’s one battle after another.

This wasn’t at the forefront of my mind while watching the film, however. It’s far too fast-moving and entertaining to give you time to dwell on deeper meanings (all that came later, thinking about what I had just seen). It’s cliché to call a film a “ride,” but it truly is, sometimes literally. There’s a uniquely filmed car chase near the end of the film that was one of the best in recent memory, accentuated by the IMAX presentation I saw the film presented in. 

One Battle is easily the most action-packed film of Anderson’s career, though that’s a low bar to top. But it’s not just car chases and shootouts. There’s a propulsion to the film that Anderson’s previous films lack (that’s not a dig at his other movies, it’s just that his later films are more meandering). Every character in this film is constantly moving to some goal with no time to think about it. The villain of the film, Sean Penn (weirding it up to try to get another Oscar), is like a creepy Terminator constantly moving in on his target. 

Penn is equal parts unnerving and goofy, and is likely to gain the most awards season attention. But everyone in this is great. Dicaprio has perfected his neurotic rageaholic character at this point. Benicio Del Toro provides plenty of comedy as an aloof sensei. Teyana Taylor fully embodies a revolutionary. And Chase Infiniti handles the tricky job of portraying someone both vulnerable and capable. 

It all adds up to one of my favorite films of the year. And the more I dwell on it, the more I like it. Perhaps one aspect will put it over the top for me: this is possibly the only film of Anderson’s that made me tear up. I'm a sucker for parental stuff in movies these days, but I don’t think it’s just that. He created this relationship between Dicaprio and Infiniti that feels real. I didn’t just want things to work out for them because they were the “good guys” of the story; I wanted these characters to make it because they earned it. Anderson detractors often accuse his films of being cold, but I can’t imagine that argument being made for this film.

One Battle After Another lived up to the hype for me. It’s 161 minutes of humorous tension, and I immediately wanted to watch it again when it was over. I can’t think of higher praise than that.

Random Thoughts

Still not seeing much in the way of MAGA outrage at this movie (once again, I think it’s simply flying under their radar since it doesn’t star Dean Cain or Kevin Sorbo), but I am seeing a few IMDb reviews that claim they are posting simply because the movie is too hyped up, and they want to bring the score down because the movie is just good, not great. I can understand that, and that’s partly the point of my review. Yes, movie people are high on this, maybe too high. And maybe I am, too. But I don’t think so. The only evidence I have for this is the fact that my wife dug this movie, and she doesn’t know who Paul Thomas Anderson is. Every aspect of the movie worked with her because it’s a good movie, not because she “wanted” to like it because it’s big on Letterboxd. I guess time will tell.

On that same note, a lot of folks are ranking PTA or at least alluding to where this would rank for them. I’m not doing a ranking on him any time soon, but I will say at the moment that this would probably be top five. I’m thinking maybe: 1. There Will Be Blood 2. Boogie Nights 3. The Master 4. One Battle After Another 5. Inherent Vice …fuck it…6. Magnolia 7. Punch-Drunk Love 8. Phantom Thread 9. Licorice Pizza 10. Hard Eight (but mainly because I haven’t seen it in years). 

That’s just off the top of my head, and it would probably change if I did a complete rewatch. But this movie’s place in a PTA ranking has nothing to do with how good it is. So a movie not being as “good” as Boogie Nights or There Will Be Blood is disappointing? If so, then might as well stop making fucking movies because that’s a high bar. 

I think this movie is getting hyperbole because it resonates with the world we currently live in more than any other PTA film ever has. His contemporary movies (Hard Eight, Magnolia, and Punch-Drunk Love) haven’t been tied to the moment they were made in. This is a movie of the time, and people wanted it, and maybe they even wanted to like it. The fact that it’s also funny with some action and excellent performances elevates it that much more. I kind of wish I could be a contrarian and tell everyone to calm the fuck down about this one, but the more I think about it, the more I like it. And more importantly, I like when I enjoy a movie. I don’t want to hate shit or be disappointed in it. I love movies, and when a really fucking good one comes out, I really fucking like it. All I’m saying is it’s okay to like something even when it’s overhyped. There are plenty of killjoy dildos in the world; no need for another one.

All that written, it’s okay to not like this movie. But if you’re only reviewing it or scoring it in response to other people’s thoughts on it, then fuck off and come up with an original or personal reason for your opinion.

I only made it about halfway through Vineland before I watched the movie, but I can still confirm this is a loose adaptation, and I’m glad. I’ll finish it, but I find Vineland very hard to get into. I just need to be in the right mood for Pynchon, and right now I’m just not in it.

Concerning Pynchon adaptations, this is wildly different from Anderson’s work on Inherent Vice. That film, which I’ve grown to absolutely love, is probably too faithful to Pynchon’s text. Characters mumble a lot, and much of the dialogue is taken directly from Pynchon, including all the “ums” and “uhs” and generally odd wording. It can be tough to decipher while reading and impossible to parse while watching. But there’s a musicality to it that worked in Inherent Vice. Here, Anderson admittedly cherry-picked elements he connected to and crafted his own story out of it, and the film is ten times more accessible than Inherent Vice because of it. It doesn’t make it automatically better, but just different and more audience-friendly.

I loved seeing Kevin Tighe in this. Of all the great casting choices in this, I never expected to see the bar owner from Road House in this, especially since I thought he was long dead.

Seeing Sean Penn survive the gunshot and car crash cracked me up so much. Then for him to show up all disfigured to still apply to the Christmas Adventurers Club with a “semen demon” story floored me. That stupid look on his fucked up face as he died was the chef’s kiss. 

So great to have Jim Downey deliver the “semen demon” line.

What a fucked up weird room for the white supremacists to meet in. It’s like a wildlife exhibit in a suburban tunnel system. Truly evil.

Del Toro saving Bob but getting busted for a DUI is great. It just shows how relaxed he is with this whole revolutionary thing, and it's further evidence that there is nothing really to be won here, just keep fighting. And fuck it, have a beer or two while you’re at it.

I’m not a big car chase guy (I mean, I’ll suck Ronin’s dick like any other good little cineaste, but it’s not something I look for in a film), but Anderson’s use of car POV and hills made this one special. And watching it in IMAX almost made me a little sick to my stomach…in a good way. 

I guess it’s kind of a good thing that this movie is doing just okay. That way, it hasn’t become the subject of a political debate like I thought it might. Yet. If this wins Best Picture, or even just gets a ton of noms, I’m sure it’ll still be used by morons as evidence that the Hollywood Elite hate America and want violence across the nation. 

All the out of touch white supremacists had some nice old-timey vocabulary peppered in: teeny-boppers, reefer, etc. These pieces of shit still use 1950s terminology because that’s what they want America to be.

I could have used more French 75 stuff. There’s not nearly enough Wood Harris in this. Or Junglepussy.

The Inadvertent William Friedkin PTSD Trilogy: "Rules of Engagement," "The Hunted," and "Bug."

William Friedkin is most famous for his early work, mainly The Exorcist and The French Connection (he also made the excellent Sorcerer around this time), yet I don’t own any of those films. Friedkin is largely forgotten today, even though he’s made some interesting and entertaining films in the last two decades. In fact, the only Friedkin movies I own are films he made after 2000.

I’m not sure if this is intentional, but Friedkin made three movies in a row between 2000 and 2006 that dealt with PTSD with increasing intensity: Rules of Engagement, The Hunted, and Bug. They are three very different films, and none of them were considered all that great upon their release. Bug is the closest, with a 61% on Rotten Tomatoes, but Rules (29%) and Hunted (31%) aren’t even close to being considered critically successful. I happen to love (or at least like) all three. Initially, I was only going to write about The Hunted because it showed up in the same YouTube video that led me to rewatch Constantine. But when I looked at my collection, I saw that I had all three of these movies and the PTSD connection occurred to me. I doubt that Friedkin chose these projects just because of that, but it’s still an interesting way to revisit these three films. First up: Rules of Engagement. (As always, there will be SPOILERS, but I’ll try to keep them minor since these films are lesser known and certainly less popular than Friedkin’s other work.)

Rules of Engagement

Rules of Engagement is about the court martial of Col. Childers (Samuel L. Jackson) who ordered his men to open fire on a crowd of protesters during a peace-keeping mission in Yemen. Childers relies on his lifelong friend, Col. Hayes Hodges (Tommy Lee Jones), to defend him.

It’s a very complex film that deals with loyalty within the military, politics in war, Vietnam, PTSD, and Middle East relations. It’s a film without easy answers. It’s unclear for the first half of the film whether or not Childers was justified, and that ambiguity makes the film work quite well, as we’re left to rely on his own stressful memories of the event and the testimony of others who either couldn’t see the crowd or might be covering up to avoid to a larger military conflict.

Unfortunately, it is revealed via a security tape (major SPOILER) that the crowd did have weapons. But the tape is destroyed by a corrupt National Security Adviser. It doesn’t ruin the movie, but according to the IMDb trivia section (so take this with a grain of salt), Friedkin initially wanted to leave the content of the tape out of the film. Leaving that open would make this movie so much more intriguing and powerful. It’s still a very thought-provoking movie, but I think it would have been received more favorably if things were left up to the audience to decide.

The PTSD elements make make a more lasting impression, especially since they are never directly addressed (at the time of the film, PTSD was not the common topic it is today). So viewing it through today’s world makes it an even deeper film regarding military service and what is justified in combat situations. And it seems like Friedkin recognized this after the fact. He doesn’t mention anything in the DVD interviews (which are mainly promotional fluff), though he may have mentioned something in the commentary (I didn’t listen to it because Friedkin seems like the type to explain what you’re watching rather than elaborate on it). Either way, PTSD isn’t the showcase here, but it is immediately prominent in his next film, The Hunted. I don’t think it’s a stretch that he may have looked back on Rules of Engagement and decided to focus more on this aspect of the film for his next movie.

Even with the misstep with the ambiguity, Rules of Engagement is a movie that stuck with me. I’ve watched it at least five times at this point, and will most likely watch it again. There are complex issues brought up in this film, and it handles them in a smart, convincing manner. That, coupled with strong performances from an amazing cast, make this a movie I am proud to own. Rules of Engagement is a movie that is unfairly lumped in with other military thrillers (as evidenced by my own placement of it within my own collection next to other military thrillers). If you haven’t seen it, or you dismissed it the first time around, give it another chance.

I’ll finish with my random thoughts for this film before moving on to The Hunted.

Random Thoughts

Jones has issues with not being able to live up to his father’s legacy, and he has survivor’s guilt from Vietnam, but the PTSD is there, as well. When he visits Yemen, he has a moment on the rooftop where he reacts as if he’s under fire. On his way home, he has memories of Vietnam in connection to the dead and injured victims in Yemen, and it causes him to drink.

The old man fight, which has shades of They Live, is a bit odd tonally, since it plays for laughs at times, but I liked it.

Jackson’s PTSD is evident when he has a flashback while watching the flag being lowered.

It’s clear that Jackson’s experience in Vietnam shaped the kind of leader he became, for better or worse. Jones’s experience sticks with him, as well. Jackson’s hardened his resolve, while Jones’s softened his. All over a coin flip. Both develop drinking issues, and Jackson has a short temper. And a lot of the film is about whether or not you should severely punish someone who has devoted their life to their country. How do we deal with soldiers when aspects of PTSD lead them to make mistakes on the battlefield?

“Murder, sir?” I don’t know why, but this quote stuck with me. I still either say it or think it when I hear the word “murder.” It’s partly due to Jackson’s delivery, but it’s also because they advertised the hell out of this movie, and that line was in every preview.

“Are these the muthafuckas?” Guy Pearce’s delivery is amusing, but it’s made that much better when Jackson answers with an angry, “Yes!”

Tommy Lee Jones and Samuel L. Jackson are perfectly cast, even if it is a bit strange that they play themselves in the present and in Vietnam.

The embassy sequence is extremely tense. Friedkin does a great job of placing you there in this chaotic situation, adding to the complexity of the film. In hindsight, the wrong call was made, but when you see it in the moment, you can understand how Jackson could make such a decision.

Strange to see Philip Baker Hall playing Jones’s father, since he’s only fifteen years older. Not impossible, of course, but seems unlikely. Jones just seems perpetually seventy years old, so it’s weird to see him with a living father.  

This is one of those odd movies that is completely fictional, yet contains text at the end letting the audience know what happened to certain characters later. This actually made me think it was based on a true story the first time I watched. Watching it now, it seems like test audiences felt that certain things were left too open, and there wasn’t money or something for re-shoots.

The Hunted

This simple, straightforward film is a mix of Rambo (a veteran on the run that cannot function in the normal world) and The Fugitive (Tommy Lee Jones hunts him down).

The Hunted is almost too straightforward and simple. Benicio del Toro plays the troubled veteran, who was basically a hit man for the military. He goes AWOL and kills two hunters (who are most likely there to hunt him), starting a manhunt. Jones was his trainer, which is why he is asked to help catch him. It’s fine and simple enough, but there are so many intriguing elements to the story that get left out.

For one thing, Del Toro is described as having “battle stress,” which is obviously another term for PTSD, but this isn’t explored nearly enough. Instead of elaborating on that with flashbacks or dialogue, it’s left vague, and he’s pretty much treated as a dangerous monster, rather than a sympathetic victim of his history in the military. To be fair, there are a couple moments that humanize him, but overall he’s just a man on the run who needs to be caught.

Jones is similarly affected by his past, even though he didn’t serve in the military. He just trained people how to kill effectively. This is another interesting aspect that only gets touched on. Here’s a man suffering because he knows his training led to a lot of death and violence.

But Friedkin, as he admits in an interview on the DVD, is not interested in exploring any of this. He thinks action thrillers have become too complex and bogged down in plot. He wanted to give the audience a bare bones, violent chase film. In that regard, he succeeds.

The Hunted has lengthy moments without dialogue. And one chase sequence takes place for nearly a half hour (the movie is only an hour and a half long) through multiple locations. If the film is only judged on its effectiveness along those lines, then it should be considered a success. But if we only judge films based on them accomplishing what the filmmakers set out to do, then how can we criticize anything. Also, it’s not like everyone knows Friedkin’s goals when they watched the movie. So when I look at this film through the PTSD angle, it’s a failure. I still enjoy this film for action thriller aspect, but I can’t ignore the missed opportunities. Also, a foot chase is only interesting for so long…

The film does focus more on PTSD, though. It’s mentioned directly, and every scene with del Toro makes it very clear that this man is struggling with his past. It’s just unfortunate that none of the characters even consider helping him. Instead, it’s just used as a plot device to explain why this trained killer needs to be caught. This also confirms that Friedkin is not actually interested in PTSD, at least not as a major focus. He refers to del Toro as “losing it,” which is not how you would refer to a character you are sympathetic to. That doesn’t take away from the fact that this is a movie about PTSD. The director’s intention doesn’t matter when someone can watch the finished product and focus on the PTSD.

Random Thoughts

I kind of hated this movie the first time I watched it, but the spoken word performance by Johnny Cash that bookends the film (and the use of “The Man Comes Around”) for the credits, made me give it another chance. I was going through a major Cash phase at the time. The use of Cash has less of an effect on me now, but I still like the use of it.

According to IMDb trivia (remember, take some salt) Jones made 20 million for these. If that’s true, it’s insane.

Good knife fights. In fact, there’s a moment I love. You know how literally every knife fight in a movie has that moment when one person tries to stab and the other person grabs their hand and they struggle until one overpowers the other? Well, in this film, del Toro simply drops his knife when this happens, catches it with his other hand, and slashes Jones. Awesome.

There’s a father killing a son thing a la Abraham and the Johnny Cash lines, but there’s nothing to it onscreen. The flashbacks are nothing but knife training. Was that supposed to establish a father-son bond? If so, do all of the trainees think of Jones as their dad?

An odd Del Toro performance: he speaks clearly throughout. It’s off-putting.

Strange scene when he visits Irene. They say each other’s name in every sentence. Try doing that in your next conversation. It’s an unnerving way to talk.

After writing all these complaints, I watched the special features and Friedkin explains most of them. I thought it was too short; Friedkin says thrillers are too long and too drawn out and should be simpler. I wanted more father-son stuff established; Friedkin says the letter scene at the end showed that Jones had received the letters but had no answer. Basically he had failed as a father to Del Toro, which is why he had to kill him. I can see all this, but I think it could have been made a bit more clear in the film. You wouldn’t need to add that much more to the run time for it to work.

Bug

Ashley Judd plays Agnes, a waitress down on her luck living in a seedy motel. She is introduced to Peter, a drifter that she has an immediate connection to. After moving in with her, they become convinced that the motel room is infested with bugs.

This is definitely the strangest film of the trilogy, and damn near the strangest of Friedkin’s career (I think Killer Joe is weirder, though both films are based on Tracy Letts plays). I’m not sure that there were going for a dark comedy vibe, but I find this movie funny at times, mainly because of how quickly the psychosis both characters share ramps up.

From the PTSD angle, this movie opened my eyes a bit. I was only focusing on military-related PTSD, but PTSD can affect anyone. Peter does claim to have military service, and he also claims they did experiments on him. So it’s easy to say that’s PTSD from military experience. But the problem is that he is shown to be very unreliable. It’s possible he’s suffering from a mental illness and was never even in the military. This made me question including this movie, until I considered Agnes. She lost a child (who was kidnapped while she was distracted at a grocery store), and her life has been terrible ever since. She also has an abusive ex (Harry Connick, Jr.). So it’s fair to say she’s suffering from PTSD, and this is what makes her so susceptible to Peter’s delusions.

Once again, this is not directly stated, and the focus of the film is on the delusions of the main characters. Perhaps this can be the theme that ties all of these films together: PTSD exists and leads to troubling behavior, but there’s not much that can be done about it; you either deal with it, or it consumes you. That’s a depressing way to look at it, but since these films came out before PTSD was focused on, it’s a legitimate statement about the disorder. Back to Bug, specifically.

I love this movie for the performances. Ashley Judd is great in a refreshingly complex role. But Michael Shannon steals the show. I had known a little of his work before, but this made him stand out to me. He always looks a little unhinged in general, but he’s set loose in this film. His reveal after the room has been covered in foil and it lit by bug zappers, is equal parts horrifying and hilarious. Once again, maybe I’m the one who’s messed up, but I always laugh at that moment.

From a directing standpoint, Friedkin does a great job at creating paranoia. The stuff inside the motel is already there from the source material. But Friedkin is able to use exterior shots that seem to be closing in on the motel room, as if there really is some conspiracy happening. It adds another layer of “what’s real?” to the film. And as far as that goes, it’s left up to the audience what’s real and what’s not, for the most part. That ambiguity allows the film to transcend the other movies in this trilogy, making it the most interesting of the three.

Sure, Bug is another Friedkin film that focuses on the effect of PTSD rather than the cause or treatment, but that doesn’t make it any less compelling or powerful. And the style of the film shows that Friedkin, even late in his career, is capable of growing as a filmmaker.

Random Thought

Ashley Judd working through the conspiracy with Shannon is a standout scene. The “I am the super mother bug!” line is a bit much, but her crazed thought process coupled with Shannon’s manic coaching, is great.

Last Thought on the Trilogy

There seems to be a pattern to the handling of PTSD in these films. In Rules, there are plenty of scenes establishing what has happened to the characters, but the PTSD is minor. In The Hunted, there is only the opening scene to establish what happened, but the PTSD is major. In Bug, we get almost no info (that we can trust, anyway), and the PTSD has turned Shannon and Judd completely insane. Even though Friedkin probably did not choose these films based on the PTSD elements, he still created a connected trilogy that is possible to analyze on a PTSD level while also working as standalone films about completely different issues. They also work as a good reason to own films, even if they're not my favorites. I was able to revisit these films and look at them in a completely different way than before. I would not have done that if I had to pay to stream one of them (not to mention that I used the DVD extras for the article). Instead, I was going to look at just one film and realized I could look at two others that I own. My collection mainly collects dust, but situations like this make it worth it to keep it.

"Sicario" Is the Dark, Tense Film the Drug War Deserves.

Sicario

Director Dennis Villeneuve has recently established himself as a master of tension, mood, and atmosphere. His two most recent films, Prisoners and Enemy set the tone for what to expect from his latest film, Sicario. Villeneuve’s ability to take basic establishing shots of arguably mundane settings and make them foreboding and intense is impressive. It’s a way of creating an effective style without calling too much attention to itself.

With Sicario, Villeneuve has the deserts of Mexico and the American southwest to play with. Lengthy establishing shots (renowned director of photography Roger Deakins impresses yet again) paired with a menacing score (by Johann Johannsson) let us know that this film about the drug war is going to be dark, intense, and disturbing. Mood isn’t everything in a film, but it certainly helps draw the viewer in. Working with a script from Taylor Sheridan (best known as an actor from Sons of Anarchy), Villeneuve is able to take what could have been a cookie-cutter action-thriller and make it into something special.

A movie about the drug war needs to be elevated because this is a story that has been told before, in a way. There have been movies about the drug war in Mexico for decades, but Sicario rises above the rest thanks to Villeneuve’s direction. That is not to say Sheridan’s script is weak. It is not terribly original, but it is interesting thanks to the perspective Sheridan chose.

The story is told from FBI agent Kate Macer’s perspective. Macer (Emily Blunt) is asked to join a joint task force made up of vague government types including Josh Brolin and Benicio Del Toro. Neither one wants to tell Macer much, so we do not know much. The most Macer, and the audience, is told is that the mission is to shake things up for the cartel and “dramatically overreact.” There is more to it, of course, which is the mystery of the film. The title itself is a bit of a mystery as “sicario” means “hitman” in Spanish, but we are not told who the hitman is. Having the main character be the new member of a group is a standard ploy of screenwriting to give the viewer someone to empathize with, but it is interesting here when you consider that Macer may represent the typical American’s reaction to the drug war. Not to get into spoilers, but Macer’s story arc is much more powerful when you view her as a representation of America in general.

While the character of Macer may be a bit plain, Blunt is still able to show her impressive range. Even though she plays a successful FBI agent, this is not your typical strong independent female role. Normally, a female character like this would be shown overpowering every man in her way, but Sicario takes a more realistic route. Macer can hold her own in a raid, but in a hand to hand fight with a man who has fifty pounds on her, things do not go so smoothly. While Macer is physically capable of her job, she struggles with the moral implications of her work with the task force. It is a role that requires Blunt to show equal parts strength and weakness, and she is great at both.

Brolin gives a fun performance in his supporting role, providing some much needed comedic relief to an otherwise joyless film. But it’s Del Toro who steals the film. As Alejandro, a mysterious and deadly soldier, he is able to make a menacing character surprisingly sympathetic. Del Toro comes across as the true star of the film. And Macer (and we the audience) are just there to watch him work.

Since this is a film about the drug war, there is a bit of action, as well. Villneuve does not glorify any of the violence, instead making most of the action scenes quick and brutal, showcasing how savage the situation has become. Each “action” scene is an incredibly tense moment that is much more effective than anything you will find in traditional action films of late.

Every positive element of the film is amplified by the style Villeneuve infuses into the film. Perhaps this is giving him too much credit, but mood and atmosphere cannot be undervalued when it comes to films about serious topics. Villeneuve’s style demands your close attention. And your close attention is rewarded with a tense, atmospheric “action” film that will have you contemplating a real world issue. In short, Sicario is what every serious film should be.

Sicario receives a:

Random Thoughts (SPOILERS)

I really liked the dark ending of the film, with the whole mission being about supporting one cartel to take over the entire drug trade. It's hard to fault Brolin's reasoning, especially when he points out the impossibility of getting Americans to stop using drugs. It's not a nice solution, but maybe it's a realistic one. 

I liked Sicario quite a bit because of my interpretation of Macer's character. By the end of the film, I saw her as representative of America in general because of her inability to bring real change to the situation. When Alejandro visits her at the end to coerce a signature that will legalize all the illegal things they did, he tells her she isn't strong enough for the war. She is not a wolf. So she should move away from it. I feel like that sums up most of America's citizens in regard to the drug war. Most people can't handle the brutality of what's going on, but their drug use or lack of attention allows it to continue. We are not wolves, so rather than do something about it, we "move" out attention elsewhere, hoping someone else fixes it. This interpretation was solidified for me when Macer retrieved her gun, aimed it at Alejandro, but was not able to pull the trigger. She was left on the balcony, powerless. That symbolizes the typical American regarding the drug war. We're above it on the balcony in America, and we have the power to stop it, but we can't pull the trigger. I really wish the film had ended there, rather than ending up at the kids' soccer game in Juarez. The ending makes a powerful point (that was also made in Traffic, by the way), but the theme of the film would have been more evident if the film had ended with Alejandro walking away as a powerless Macer stands, defeated, on the balcony.

After watching this, it is clear why Villeneuve is directing the next Blade Runner. This film is actually quite similar, stylistically. Blade Runner featured lengthy establishing shots set to a unique score that solidified the mood and atmosphere of the film constantly. I am not officially excited for what I previously thought of as a needless sequel. I know Villeneuve will keep the new Blade Runner just as dark as the original.

Finally, hats off to Sicario for that brutal dinner scene at the end. For a second, I thought Alejandro would prove to be sympathetic to the innocent woman and children at the table, but he turned out to be just as brutal as he had been the entire film. He was truly a man on a mission. I have not found Del Toro this interesting in years. Hopefully he keeps this up with his role in the next Star Wars film.