“Ideals are peaceful, history is violent.”
The H-Bomb: It’s 1945, and while the war in Europe is winding down, the fighting is far from over. The Allies are now in Germany, gaining more ground every day. In the middle of the chaos is a tank crew, led by Sgt. Wardaddy Collier (Brad Pitt), that has managed to stay together since North Africa. Recently, a member of this tight knit crew was killed in action, and his replacement comes in the form of Pvt. Ellison (Logan Lerman), a very green recruit who was trained to be a typist.
If it isn’t bad enough that Ellison’s literally been dropped into hell-on-earth, the fellow members of the tank crew; Bible Swan (Shia LaBeouf), Gordo Garcia (Michael Pena), and Grady Travis (Jon Bernthal), are less than welcoming towards the new guy, figuring he’ll either get himself, or one of them (or more), killed. Collier’s only words of advice to the kid, before sitting him behind the machine gun, are “Don’t get close to anyone.”
With that, Ellison takes his place inside the tank and joins the crew in their main objective: Kill Germans. That’s it, just kill as many of them as humanly possible, and if civilians get in the way… fuck ‘em, that’s their problem. Thing is, Ellison is no killer by nature, and he believes that he just doesn’t have it in him. What’s worse, is that Hitler is so desperate now that he’s recruiting women and children to fight, publicly hanging those who refuse to do so.
If Ellison wants to survive in that tank, and on that team, and make it out of Germany alive, then he’s going to have to tap in to that primal part that’s in every man, the one that only surfaces in war. For him, it will be baptism by fire, and bullets, and blood.
Earlier this year, director David Ayer gave us Sabotage, a tremendously disappointing follow-up to his near masterpiece, End of Watch. With his latest, Fury, which he also scripted, Ayer has wholly and completely redeemed himself for that lackluster Arnie flick. With Fury, Ayer has made what is, hands down, the best war film since The Hurt Locker… and those are words I do not utter lightly.
Like The Hurt Locker, Fury is a film that doesn’t glorify war, or condemn it, it just shows it as it is; brutal, ugly, cruel. In fact, Ayer’s utterly bleak, blood-soaked depiction of WWII is beyond brutal, beyond ugly, and beyond cruel. It’s savage… inhuman. The soldiers in here aren’t fighting for God or country, they’re fighting simply to stay alive. This has all the stomach churning ferocity of a Saving Private Ryan, minus the sentimental sap that often seeps into so many of Spielberg’s films.
When the fighting finally stops and the end credits begin, we’re not filled with a sense of heroism or patriotism or anything rousing. We’re left thinking, “Holy shit… war is fucking hell.” This point is especially driven home during the final battle, when the tank crew is making their last stand against seemingly insurmountable German forces. It’s a nighttime combat sequence that is nightmarish, beautiful, harrowing, and drives home that undeniable truth: War sucks. Even when it’s just, even when it’s necessary, it still fucking sucks.
That’s not to imply that Fury is entirely gloom and doom (though it kind of is), as there are a number of uniquely staged action scenes that are potent and exciting. Why do I say unique? Well, because most of them are centered around the tank, containing our five leads in a dirty, cramped little rust bucket. One such sequence involves a dog fight between our tank, and a technically superior German tank. Imagining an action scene between two tanks may seem clunky and lethargic, in actuality, however, it’s quite suspenseful thanks to some superb editing and camerawork.
All this expertly crafted carnage would all be for naught, if it weren’t for the engagingly complex members of the Fury crew. Now, to say these guys are off putting at times is almost an understatement, but it’s important to bear in mind that they’re on edge from having suddenly lost a longtime comrade, and that the war in general has dehumanized them to a startling degree. Despite how questionably they behave at times, especially Bernthal (a standout), one senses that they would die for each other in an instant, and they manage to remain mostly sympathetic… even Shia LaBeouf.
Looking at Brad Pitt as the gruff, grumbly team leader, I was initially hit with flashbacks of Inglourious Basterds, as many probably will be. However, there is no sign of the goofy ass Aldo Raine in this man who has been scarred by the war, both physically and otherwise, to the point where he has nearly shut off his humanity entirely in order to survive. I would say that, at times, the quasi-philosophical dialogue coming from his mouth seemed too on-the-nose, but performance wise, this may be a career best for Mr. Pitt.
The real revelation, though, is Lerman as the kid who is forced into a situation he isn’t at all prepared for. When we first meet him, he’s a squeaky clean baby face who barfs at the sight of blood, and flinches at the sound of gunfire. With each passing skirmish and battle, his face gets a little grimier, and a little harder, and by the end, he is no longer a baby-faced kid. I’ve never seen either of the Percy Jackson flicks, but after his turn here, Lerman is definitely on my radar now.
With Fury, I believe that director Ayer has really turned a corner. I was disillusioned with him after Sabotage, now my faith has been restored tenfold. He has delivered a gripping and mercilessly grim war epic that could very well go down as one of the true greats.
