Why do we tell historical stories? Why do they interest us? As someone whose favourite films are often historical ones, it is a question I wrestle with a lot.
Of course, no small part is the thrill of exploring another world, strange yet familiar, of us but not our own. That recreation of sights now lost, of people, ideas and technologies faded to dust can certainly be enthralling. But the best and most successful historical films transcend mere spectacle. The characters and situations depicted in them engage with contemporary trends and concerns. It seems paradoxical but it is through this very modernity that the past in these films is rendered the more vivid and convincing.
Without it, we are left asking - why this story, why this production, and why now?
And that brings me to FURY. As ever, SPOILERS follow.
FURY tells the story of an American tank crew in the dying days of the Second World War. At first glance, this seems fertile ground for a story; it contains that oft-suggested ideal mix of old and new. It concentrates on the less-dramatised end of a well-known war and provides a new point of view on familiar battles. You can almost hear the pitch - the claustrophobia of Das Boot with the visceral, exciting action of Saving Private Ryan.
And some things it does very well indeed.
There is a fantastic texture to this film. You can almost feel the dirt beneath your nails, the diesel fumes in your nostrils, the gun-smoke at your eyes. Mud and gore coat the roads, while in the taut, jarringly violent action scenes, you truly feel the force of these metal monsters as tracer bullets scorch the sky and cannon-fire roils the earth.
This is a world defined by beasts of battle, both old and new. The opening shot sees a man ride in horseback towards camera and through what seems to be a graveyard of American tanks. But it soon becomes clear not all the mechanical beasts are dead. The scene ends with a moment of sudden violence and the curt dismissal of the now riderless horse. It was a flesh-and-blood creature that brought us into the scene, but it is a tank that carries us out. The message could not be clearer or more effective.
Unfortunately, for me, other elements in the film are less successful.
Despite the considerable time spent in their cramped fighting station, there is little depth to most of the tank crew beyond their dominant characteristics - the religious gunner, the experienced commander, the callow youth, the violent one, the Mexican driver. To be honest, I struggled to remember their names even while watching the film. Despite generally solid acting performances, the characters never felt real to me, the beats in their relationships rarely surprising as we have simply seen them too many times before. So derivative do they seem of characters in other films, so predictable at times are their interactions, it is difficult to care about them as individuals, fatally undermining our interest in their survival and by extension in the film itself.
The notable exception to these rather generic interactions comes when Pitt's character and his novice colleague (played by Logan Lerman) invade the home of a German woman and her pretty young cousin. It is the film's most effective sequence, with a rare hint of tenderness on display in an otherwise unremittingly bleak picture. The encounter between erstwhile enemies is derailed however by the arrival of the rest of the tank crew, drunk and aggressive after the bloody taking of the town. Humming with barely suppressed sexual violence, the scenes are tenser and more compelling than any other in the film.
This morally intriguing interlude however proves precisely that; tank and film soon roll off to more battles and more bloodshed.
The climax of the film comes in a duel to the death between the crew's stranded tank and an entire battalion of the dreaded SS. Impressively staged though it certainly is, the battle has little impact beyond the visceral shock of bang and gruesome splatter. Despite brief efforts by the film to endow it with greater importance, we know this fight will make no difference to the outcome of the war. Germany has already lost; the only thing that can truly be at stake for the audience is the characters' lives. But, as established, we do not really know most of these men and thus cannot care when they die. The final battle reaches for the emotional deeps, for moments of powerful sacrifice and unlikely deliverance; but by the end the audience is less shedding tears than shrugging shoulders.
And that strikes at the question I came out of the cinema with.
Why? What is the point? What is this film telling us that is new? That war is grim? Nazis bad? That violence dehumanises? We have heard it all before.
FURY has much going for it. But it never addresses the crucial questions - why tell this story and why now? Without answers, this tank film is ultimately just a tin can with the same old ingredients.
Of course, no small part is the thrill of exploring another world, strange yet familiar, of us but not our own. That recreation of sights now lost, of people, ideas and technologies faded to dust can certainly be enthralling. But the best and most successful historical films transcend mere spectacle. The characters and situations depicted in them engage with contemporary trends and concerns. It seems paradoxical but it is through this very modernity that the past in these films is rendered the more vivid and convincing.
Without it, we are left asking - why this story, why this production, and why now?
And that brings me to FURY. As ever, SPOILERS follow.
FURY tells the story of an American tank crew in the dying days of the Second World War. At first glance, this seems fertile ground for a story; it contains that oft-suggested ideal mix of old and new. It concentrates on the less-dramatised end of a well-known war and provides a new point of view on familiar battles. You can almost hear the pitch - the claustrophobia of Das Boot with the visceral, exciting action of Saving Private Ryan.
And some things it does very well indeed.
There is a fantastic texture to this film. You can almost feel the dirt beneath your nails, the diesel fumes in your nostrils, the gun-smoke at your eyes. Mud and gore coat the roads, while in the taut, jarringly violent action scenes, you truly feel the force of these metal monsters as tracer bullets scorch the sky and cannon-fire roils the earth.
This is a world defined by beasts of battle, both old and new. The opening shot sees a man ride in horseback towards camera and through what seems to be a graveyard of American tanks. But it soon becomes clear not all the mechanical beasts are dead. The scene ends with a moment of sudden violence and the curt dismissal of the now riderless horse. It was a flesh-and-blood creature that brought us into the scene, but it is a tank that carries us out. The message could not be clearer or more effective.
Unfortunately, for me, other elements in the film are less successful.
The notable exception to these rather generic interactions comes when Pitt's character and his novice colleague (played by Logan Lerman) invade the home of a German woman and her pretty young cousin. It is the film's most effective sequence, with a rare hint of tenderness on display in an otherwise unremittingly bleak picture. The encounter between erstwhile enemies is derailed however by the arrival of the rest of the tank crew, drunk and aggressive after the bloody taking of the town. Humming with barely suppressed sexual violence, the scenes are tenser and more compelling than any other in the film.
This morally intriguing interlude however proves precisely that; tank and film soon roll off to more battles and more bloodshed.
The climax of the film comes in a duel to the death between the crew's stranded tank and an entire battalion of the dreaded SS. Impressively staged though it certainly is, the battle has little impact beyond the visceral shock of bang and gruesome splatter. Despite brief efforts by the film to endow it with greater importance, we know this fight will make no difference to the outcome of the war. Germany has already lost; the only thing that can truly be at stake for the audience is the characters' lives. But, as established, we do not really know most of these men and thus cannot care when they die. The final battle reaches for the emotional deeps, for moments of powerful sacrifice and unlikely deliverance; but by the end the audience is less shedding tears than shrugging shoulders.
And that strikes at the question I came out of the cinema with.
Why? What is the point? What is this film telling us that is new? That war is grim? Nazis bad? That violence dehumanises? We have heard it all before.
FURY has much going for it. But it never addresses the crucial questions - why tell this story and why now? Without answers, this tank film is ultimately just a tin can with the same old ingredients.
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