![[Film review] 'Fury' depicts a battle without honour or humanity](https://sc0.blr1.digitaloceanspaces.com/large/685755-c282fe56-db1a-4432-89f7-fe35ed0d2b9c.jpg)
Or, The Ballad of the Longest Day in Norman’s Life. Part of a group of World War II soldiers staffing a Sherman tank nicknamed "Fury", Norman (Logan Lerman, from the Percy Jackson movies) becomes a man. In a very short period, he graduates from refusing to shoot a Nazi officer in the back to spraying German soldiers with bullets, snuggles down with a German teenager (consensual) and finally shows his mettle in the climactic battle between Fury's crew and a German battalion.
The scene with the German teenager and her mother, residents of a town that has been conquered by the Americans, provides a transition between early-reel cynicism and latter-day redemption in director and writer David Ayer’s sorrowful war drama. Will the tank’s commander Collier (Brad Pitt) claim the adolescent as a trophy? The possibility is tantalising, and it would have made Collier a more nuanced character. But that would have been going too far for a Hollywood production that nudges the envelope on America's complicated role in World War II but does not poke into its contents.
Set during the last days of the war in 1945, Fury unfolds in Germany, where Allied forces are seeking to annihilate the remnants of Hitler's armies. This is war as it probably actually is ‒ cruel bordering on barbaric, unheroic and unrelenting, with scattered moments of grace. Fury’s soldiers are more exhausted than valourous. The taut opening scenes reveal a fighting force motivated solely by the promise of the battle’s end, willing their selves and their tanks towards the final push. They are at that point where they want to mow down their opponents – and they do.
Fury and futility
Fury, then, is about a battle without honour or humanity, but it’s also about Hollywood’s unmatched ability to throw money at combat sequences and achieve spectacular results. The balance during the 134-minute drama undoubtedly tilts more in favour of the magnificently staged battlefield scenes than the deep “what is the meaning of it all” inquiry better suited to a smaller-budget art-house movie.
The story unfolds through two sets of eyes: Norman, who stands in for audiences shell-shocked by the horrors of the battlefield, and Collier, whose battle-hardened paternalistic figure has managed to steer his group (played by Michael Pena, Shia LaBeouf and Jon Bernthal) through the heat and dust through sheer force of personality. The father-son relationship follows most of the clichés found in rite-of-passage films. Ayer's focus on the veteran and the greenhorn doesn't give Collier's other crew mates much to do apart from joust around and rally around their boss.
Even though Ayer doesn’t carry through with his threat to demolish the Hollywood-fuelled myth that American soldiers occasionally behave badly on the battlefield, at least he does selectively deploy his scalpel. The sequence in which Collier forces Norman to kill an enemy soldier is neatly directed and performed. Other attempts at profundity amidst the profanity are far less successful, and some of the weariness experienced by the soldiers could just infect viewers as the combat sequences and faux-weighty conversations drag on.
Glimpsed through the fog of war is the larger question of why nations fight, whether Allied or German or American or Iraqi. The answer is there somewhere, but you need to look for it.
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The scene with the German teenager and her mother, residents of a town that has been conquered by the Americans, provides a transition between early-reel cynicism and latter-day redemption in director and writer David Ayer’s sorrowful war drama. Will the tank’s commander Collier (Brad Pitt) claim the adolescent as a trophy? The possibility is tantalising, and it would have made Collier a more nuanced character. But that would have been going too far for a Hollywood production that nudges the envelope on America's complicated role in World War II but does not poke into its contents.
Set during the last days of the war in 1945, Fury unfolds in Germany, where Allied forces are seeking to annihilate the remnants of Hitler's armies. This is war as it probably actually is ‒ cruel bordering on barbaric, unheroic and unrelenting, with scattered moments of grace. Fury’s soldiers are more exhausted than valourous. The taut opening scenes reveal a fighting force motivated solely by the promise of the battle’s end, willing their selves and their tanks towards the final push. They are at that point where they want to mow down their opponents – and they do.
Fury and futility
Fury, then, is about a battle without honour or humanity, but it’s also about Hollywood’s unmatched ability to throw money at combat sequences and achieve spectacular results. The balance during the 134-minute drama undoubtedly tilts more in favour of the magnificently staged battlefield scenes than the deep “what is the meaning of it all” inquiry better suited to a smaller-budget art-house movie.
The story unfolds through two sets of eyes: Norman, who stands in for audiences shell-shocked by the horrors of the battlefield, and Collier, whose battle-hardened paternalistic figure has managed to steer his group (played by Michael Pena, Shia LaBeouf and Jon Bernthal) through the heat and dust through sheer force of personality. The father-son relationship follows most of the clichés found in rite-of-passage films. Ayer's focus on the veteran and the greenhorn doesn't give Collier's other crew mates much to do apart from joust around and rally around their boss.
Even though Ayer doesn’t carry through with his threat to demolish the Hollywood-fuelled myth that American soldiers occasionally behave badly on the battlefield, at least he does selectively deploy his scalpel. The sequence in which Collier forces Norman to kill an enemy soldier is neatly directed and performed. Other attempts at profundity amidst the profanity are far less successful, and some of the weariness experienced by the soldiers could just infect viewers as the combat sequences and faux-weighty conversations drag on.
Glimpsed through the fog of war is the larger question of why nations fight, whether Allied or German or American or Iraqi. The answer is there somewhere, but you need to look for it.