As Civil War begins, America is not in crisis. It's in shambles. A Second American Civil War has consumed the country, with the primary rivals in the fight being the United States of America and Western powers consisting of California and Texas (Florida is a separate faction aiding the latter group). Writer/director Alex Garland tells this saga through the eyes of journalists. Specifically, Civil War chronicles traumatized and weary Lee (Kirsten Dunst), the upbeat Joel (Wagner Moura), experienced Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson), and 23-year-old newbie photographer Jessie (Cailee Spaeny). This quartet is determined to travel from New York City to Washington D.C. to secure an interview with the unnamed President of the United States (Nick Offerman).
Washington has become a battleground where journalists are "shot on sight," per Sammy. Yet this group continues on their mission, encountering the gruesome remains of America along their journey.
Civil War is the best movie Alex Garland has ever directed until it suddenly isn't. But before it runs out of steam, it's tremendously gripping. Many of Garland's greatest strengths as a filmmaker are put to great use here, namely his gift for striking displays of grotesquerie. This story does not take place in the nascent days of a grand conflict. Lee and company are inhabiting a country where unspeakable horrors are now everyday occurrences. This reality informs chilling images vividly realized by Garland and his go-to cinematographer Rob Hardy. A shot of two overpasses, one of which has "GO STEELERS" graffiti on it while the other is home to two hung corpses dangling in the wind, is a great example of this. Trivial interests and human rights violations co-existing in the same space. That sounds like America. A shot of piles of abandoned and brutalized cars stacked up on a pair of roads is similarly haunting and beautifully composed. The lack of information on what happened here just makes this sight all the more terrifying to witness.
That ambiguity ties into another central element of Civil War: its apolitical nature. Garland has been very open that the movie doesn't function as a treatise for any political side. Refusing to commit to an ideology means that Civil War can never function as impactfully as social commentary as works by filmmakers like Samuel Fuller, Boots Riley, and Lizzie Borden. However, initially, this tactic does make some sense. For the first 2/3 of Civil War, the focus is on four journalists navigating smaller bursts of conflict. They're rarely on the front lines of the action. They're just stuck in the crossfire of two snipers shooting at a trigger-happy adversary or an unnamed xenophobic soldier played by Jesse Plemons.
In these intimate confines, Civil War's apolitical impulses feel more like a way to reflect how long this Second Civil War has lasted. Even the people fighting in it don't know what they're quarreling over. Personal grudges and brawls for survival have replaced larger ideological motivations. Plus, Garland thrives as a filmmaker in executing small-scale bursts of suspense, as seen by his previous artistic accomplishments in movies like 28 Days Later (for which he wrote the script) and Ex Machina (which he also directed). A scene where Jessie joyfully tries to leap from one moving car to another had me closing my eyes in dread. A later confrontation with a character played by Plemons leaves one clutching their breath thanks to how masterfully paced this set-piece is. It doesn't hurt that Plemons is also transfixing in this sequence!
The earlier parts of Civil War also find interesting moments for things to simmer and let us get to know our four journalists. An early sequence of this quartet settling down for the night at an abandoned freight yard is full of great touches, including the lived-in rapport between Dunst and Henderson. The smallest details of their interactions exude a rich history of friendship. Even the run-down backdrop of these nighttime conversations accentuates the bonds between these people. Everything is crumbling around them. Every slab of metal characters walk by is slathered in rust. Gunfire from distant battles rights up the night sky. Yet Joel still takes the time to let Lee know she's not alone. Exploring private bursts of human connection in times of incomprehensible strife informs Civil War's greatest sequences.
Unfortunately, those same qualities evaporate once the climax of Civil War arrives. For its final thirty minutes, Garland chronicles a nighttime assault on Washington D.C. The main characters easily get lost in the shuffle of this operation. This is the stretch of the story where the apolitical nature of Civil War also becomes an unfortunate problem. It's easy to forgive a dearth of specific social commentary when the feature is keeping you engaged with small-scale suspense sequences. However, once the screen is suddenly filled with military hardware and endless sounds of gunfire, the thematic hollowness engulfs the proceedings. Civil War's vagueness over the forces behind the Second American Civil War is an asset when it informs haunting shots of brutalized vehicles scattered across the road. Ambiguity is your friend when chronicling the aftermath of these skirmishes. Unfortunately, that same quality is a massive problem when Civil War just focuses on soldiers blowing stuff up.
Civil War previously got a lot of power leaving things to the viewer's imagination. Those first two acts functioning like Stalker by way of The Devil Came on Horseback crackle with ominous suspense. Once we're front-and-center on the battlefield, though, there just isn't much dramatic tension. Worse, whether intentional or not, Civil War devolving into a finale from a Peter Berg movie even reveals a bit of thematic timidity on the part of Garland. He's clearly comfortable with eschewing ambiguity when it comes to showing off the prowess of American military forces. However, he avoids addressing a slew of real-world sociopolitical issues informing America's modern political nightmare that Civil War is capitalizing on. Garland is happy to eschew ambiguity to indulge in traditional cinematic military-heavy imagery while avoiding wading into more "divisive" territory. It's quite common to see motion pictures dedicating screentime to the military (the Department of Defense and Pentagon encourage such projects!), this flaw isn't exclusive to Civil War, In the interest of fairness, it also isn't like any military branch of the movie comes out looking like "champs" thanks to all the unarmed civilians getting shot down. Depiction does not equal endorsement and Civil War depicting soldiers slaughtering people does not mean Garland thinks that's "awesome".
However, the best parts of Civil War previously relied on quiet suspense and unspeakable atrocities occurring in the daytime. It's a shame it all devolves into a dimly lit cacophony of noise that feels like it could be lifted from any other military drama. Even the dialogue becomes more didactic and clumsy in this stretch of the story while great actors like Dunst get stuck in the background in favor of more explosions. Such a conventional finish can't help but make one realize all the thematic potential left on the table, especially since Garland's "apolitical" PR stance ends up being nonsense (no art is apolitical, particularly ones this enamored with showcasing military vehicles and choppers). Initially, the nebulousness of Civil War is a great anchor for incredibly memorable suspenseful sequences. Too bad it all leads to a third act that betrays the movie's best qualities. One might even say Civil War wins some artistic battles, but struggles to win the war.
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