Dunkirk is unlike any film I have ever seen. That's not something I get to say too often these days. It's rare for a new movie to provide an experience that is wholly fresh and unique, but then again, we're talking about Christopher Nolan here. Since breaking onto the indie scene with Memento, a twisty low-budget gem that received great reviews, Nolan has become a directorial icon. He's one of the few filmmakers who can open a movie based on his name alone, and while he's probably best known for his definitive take on Batman in the form of the Dark Knight trilogy, Nolan has never been one to play it safe in the blockbuster realm. This is the man who turned a high-concept thriller about dream thieves into a culturally significant smash hit that made $825 million worldwide. Every time that Nolan is doubted, he hits back with a knockout. There is no doubt in my mind- he is one of the finest filmmakers working today.
After making his most cerebral, ambitious film with 2014's Interstellar, Nolan has returned to reinvent the war film with Dunkirk. Nobody knew what his approach would be when it was announced that he was taking on a World War II film, and some questioned whether he could actually pull it off. Additional questions were raised when the film was set for release in July, as well as when we learned that it would be only 107 minutes in length, Nolan's shortest film since his debut. For many, Dunkirk has been viewed with skepticism since the very start. But as fans on the internet like to say- in Nolan we trust. What emerges is a film that shows the director at his most epic and his most stripped down, a cinematic masterpiece that dilutes the war film to its nerve-shredding essence and leaves you on the edge of your seat. Nolan takes the genre and makes it his own, delivering a structurally revolutionary, viscerally exhausting, tightly wound thriller for the ages. Dunkirk is a paralyzing, jaw-dropping experience, and as a wonderful little bonus, it's also Nolan's most impressively made film. Stark, relentless, and absolutely mesmerizing, Nolan's astonishing work of minimalism is the very best of the year so far.
The clock is ticking. The enemy is coming. On the beaches of Dunkirk in France, 400,000 British and French soldiers are waiting to be rescued. Told from the perspectives of the land, the sea, and the air, locations that operate on different time frames, the film tells the story of the miraculous mission that saw the fate of Britain hanging in the balance. On land, there's a young soldier (Fionn Whitehead) and his new acquaintance (Aneurin Barnard), two desperate teens hoping to find a way off the beach on one of the boats, while Commander Bolton (Kenneth Branagh) and Colonel Winnant (James D'Arcy) plot a way to save their army from certain death. On the sea, there's a calmly assured sailor (Mark Rylance) and his son (Tom Glynn-Carney), heading to Dunkirk as part of a civilian rescue team. And in the air, two of the military's finest pilots (Tom Hardy and Jack Lowden) hope to fend off the enemy planes for as long as they can to give the army a chance of escape. Through Nolan's complex method of storytelling, Dunkirk gives us a terrifying portrait of a race against time, an evacuation that shaped the path of the defining conflict in the history of modern civilization.
I am convinced that Christopher Nolan will never make a simple film- and the movie world is a better place because of it. Here, Nolan has taken a story that could be told in a very straight-forward fashion and twisted it into a narrative triptych that evolves into something remarkable. Essentially, the director has taken three separate stories, each set in different locales and on different time frames, and compellingly edited them together to create a complete cinematic portrait of the evacuation of Dunkirk. For some characters, the action takes place over a week, while others are only involved for about one hour. It's a simple, historically accurate observation that lends itself to the intricate nature of the storytelling, and it's a dazzling feat of pacing and tension that he's able to pull it off. The stories build and collide, interlocking and crossing over without ever sacrificing an ounce of the intensity that is so integral to this story. Nolan's structure has moments of weakness, and it may confuse viewers who aren't prepared to connect the dots in what seems like a rather clear-cut war film. But his innovative approach lends itself to a greater sense of gripping pressure and a stronger emotional crescendo, and I can't imagine this film working as well without it.
But Nolan's structural genius does nothing without his superb directorial skills- the two are inextricably bonded together. While I still think that Inception is my favorite film from him, Dunkirk is certainly Nolan's finest achievement as a director. He's working at the absolute peak of his powers here, delivering something as blisteringly intense as it is completely engrossing. This is as close to an art film as Nolan has ever made, and while the ticking clock setup and fierce action momentum allow for general audience accessibility, this is as raw and gripping as modern blockbuster filmmaking can get. Nolan balances gorgeously harrowing wide shots that capture the simple beauty and sheer scope of the evacuation with chaotic, unbelievably intense camerawork that takes you close to the action for a more immersive, you-are-there experience. Nolan has thrilled and dazzled with his films before, but Dunkirk has a haunting quality that gives it the look and feel of a cinematic painting- especially in 70mm, this film is a textured epic the likes of which we haven't seen in a long time.
Nolan has a consistent band of collaborators that work with him on nearly every project, and they all embrace the chance to execute his distinct vision. Editor Lee Smith has done every one of Nolan's films since Batman Begins, and enough cannot be said about his work here. Smith connects the three storylines easily, but he also works everything out so that the non-linear nature of the project never hinders the pacing of the film. That's a feat in the best sense of the word, and I have to believe that Oscar glory will be heading his way. Cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema joined the Nolan team with Interstellar, and he takes the opportunity to embrace the simplicity of this story and the images on display. Dunkirk never feels visually busy- it deals with both controlled order and absolute chaos, but Hoytema and Nolan never try to push too many things on the viewer, letting the enormity and desolation of the images tell the story. But if Hoytema's beautifully grim work is subtle in the best possible way, Hans Zimmer's score is overbearing in a way that practically defines the film. It's loud and frightening and absolutely perfect, a ticking time bomb of musical suspense that will leave you breathless. There's a certain track that bounces around in my head every time after I see the film. Zimmer knocks it out of the park once more.
But for all of the virtues of Nolan's craft, he never loses sight of the effect that his filmmaking should have on the audience. Dunkirk is about a world on the edge of destruction, and in the words of the director himself, a world stuck between the possibilities of surrender and annihilation. It's a film about desperation, the lengths that humanity will go to survive during times of great struggle. Nolan's vision is never less than awe-inspiring, as he infuses the film with a perfect sense of exhaustion, fear, and hopelessness, a roller-coaster of sensations that will leave you gasping for air. He doesn't let the audience off the hook, and Dunkirk is a film that puts you through the physical and emotional ringer. It doesn't let up, it doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath, it doesn't even consider dishing out those crowd-pleasing scenes- Dunkirk drops you in and lets the horrors unfold at a remarkably fast clip. This is blunt force cinema at its finest, and the bleak, harsh experience crafted by Nolan is wonderfully contrasted by his elaborately grandiose filmmaking.
Nolan is often considered to be a cold director, one who pushes emotions to the wayside in favor of his dense plotting, mind-blowing twists, and stunning visuals. And when he made his most nakedly emotional film with Interstellar, he was punished by critics for being treacly and sentimental. When it comes to this angle for his films, it seems that Nolan cannot win. Of course, these same claims have already been levied against Dunkirk- that it's lacking in humanity, that it's completely cold, that Nolan lacks any kind of warmth or humorous touch. Having seen the film four times now, I've been able to grasp the narrative and its impact in an interesting way. And it's true, Nolan doesn't give you much when it comes to the characters. I could really only list the names of a few, and there's just a single moment where a character's motivation is described in a way that is meant to tug on your heartstrings. Other than that, Nolan's tight narrative prevents the conventional development of characters, something that most mainstream viewers will probably view as a baffling decision.
But there's no question about it in my mind- Dunkirk is the most human film that Nolan has ever made. By dealing with a subject matter that is grounded in a historical reality, Nolan is able to place his characters under a microscope and examine humanity in the midst of imminent danger. You see this everywhere in Dunkirk. You see it in two scared kids who pick up a random stretcher on the beach, hoping that this wounded man is their ticket to survival. You see it in the trials of an old fisherman, determined to push his boat to the absolute limit in the hopes of helping a grounded pilot. You see it in the sky, as a pilot uses every last drop of fuel to make his way to the beach and stop the enemy from doing further damage. You see it in a group of boys, stuck in a boat and turning on one another as the enemy opens fire on them. Betrayal, anger, the loss of hope, innovation, inaction, and desperation in the face of death- this isn't easy stuff by any measure, and Dunkirk is certainly not an easy film. The merits of patriotism here have already been debated and discussed by much better critics than me, but in my view, Dunkirk is less a movie about triumph and more about grit and dignity in the face of overwhelming odds. A country comes together to save itself from certain disaster, and there's something incredibly noble about this outcome. Nolan never once loses sight of the failure and the magnitude of the casualties during this fateful battle, but he does inject the film with a sense of humanity and an ending that manages to provide profound relief and catharsis to the audience.
For such a big, grand epic, Dunkirk thrives on the little moments. Mark Rylance has the best shot at nabbing an Oscar nomination, serving as the embodiment of grace and poise throughout the entire film. And while there is nearly zero dialogue for most of the characters, everyone gets a chance to shine- Tom Hardy is brilliant, Cillian Murphy does incredible work, and yes, even Harry Styles is dynamic as a brash young man struggling under the weight of the war. But in the end, it all comes back to Fionn Whitehead, the quiet, introspective center of Dunkirk. Nolan makes a purposeful choice to frame the massive conflict through his eyes, and it's a choice that grows in brilliance the more I watch this film. Nolan said in an interview with Entertainment Weekly that he viewed the young protagonists not as men, but as boys, something that seems to define the central narrative of his vision. Whitehead conveys a perfect mix of wide-eyed innocence and weariness, which works all the way up to the final frame. Dunkirk thrives on subtlety, minor touches that are enhanced and enriched by each subsequent viewing.
But for all of its humanity, for all of the things that make it a rich, deeply personal story, Dunkirk is still an old-fashioned piece of epic entertainment told on a mind-blowing scale that is nothing shy of momentous. It's the kind of movie that could only come from the mind of Christopher Nolan, but it also feels like the filmmaker is displaying cinematic abilities that he hasn't shown us before. It's a propulsive, heart-stopping thriller, one that pushes you to the limit and then some. It's everything that this movie should be, and it is as tensely gripping as it is hauntingly magnificent. It's another work of extraordinary genius from one of the best directors on the planet, a man who has shown us that he is capable of just about anything. Dunkirk is the best movie of the year by a wide margin, a flawless piece of cinema that will surely become a classic. It will leave you in a state of shock and awe for 107 riveting minutes, a feat that most filmmakers could only dream of accomplishing. For Nolan, it's just another film in his growing collection of cinematic monuments.
THE FINAL GRADE: A+ (10/10)
Images: IMDB/WB
After making his most cerebral, ambitious film with 2014's Interstellar, Nolan has returned to reinvent the war film with Dunkirk. Nobody knew what his approach would be when it was announced that he was taking on a World War II film, and some questioned whether he could actually pull it off. Additional questions were raised when the film was set for release in July, as well as when we learned that it would be only 107 minutes in length, Nolan's shortest film since his debut. For many, Dunkirk has been viewed with skepticism since the very start. But as fans on the internet like to say- in Nolan we trust. What emerges is a film that shows the director at his most epic and his most stripped down, a cinematic masterpiece that dilutes the war film to its nerve-shredding essence and leaves you on the edge of your seat. Nolan takes the genre and makes it his own, delivering a structurally revolutionary, viscerally exhausting, tightly wound thriller for the ages. Dunkirk is a paralyzing, jaw-dropping experience, and as a wonderful little bonus, it's also Nolan's most impressively made film. Stark, relentless, and absolutely mesmerizing, Nolan's astonishing work of minimalism is the very best of the year so far.
The clock is ticking. The enemy is coming. On the beaches of Dunkirk in France, 400,000 British and French soldiers are waiting to be rescued. Told from the perspectives of the land, the sea, and the air, locations that operate on different time frames, the film tells the story of the miraculous mission that saw the fate of Britain hanging in the balance. On land, there's a young soldier (Fionn Whitehead) and his new acquaintance (Aneurin Barnard), two desperate teens hoping to find a way off the beach on one of the boats, while Commander Bolton (Kenneth Branagh) and Colonel Winnant (James D'Arcy) plot a way to save their army from certain death. On the sea, there's a calmly assured sailor (Mark Rylance) and his son (Tom Glynn-Carney), heading to Dunkirk as part of a civilian rescue team. And in the air, two of the military's finest pilots (Tom Hardy and Jack Lowden) hope to fend off the enemy planes for as long as they can to give the army a chance of escape. Through Nolan's complex method of storytelling, Dunkirk gives us a terrifying portrait of a race against time, an evacuation that shaped the path of the defining conflict in the history of modern civilization.
I am convinced that Christopher Nolan will never make a simple film- and the movie world is a better place because of it. Here, Nolan has taken a story that could be told in a very straight-forward fashion and twisted it into a narrative triptych that evolves into something remarkable. Essentially, the director has taken three separate stories, each set in different locales and on different time frames, and compellingly edited them together to create a complete cinematic portrait of the evacuation of Dunkirk. For some characters, the action takes place over a week, while others are only involved for about one hour. It's a simple, historically accurate observation that lends itself to the intricate nature of the storytelling, and it's a dazzling feat of pacing and tension that he's able to pull it off. The stories build and collide, interlocking and crossing over without ever sacrificing an ounce of the intensity that is so integral to this story. Nolan's structure has moments of weakness, and it may confuse viewers who aren't prepared to connect the dots in what seems like a rather clear-cut war film. But his innovative approach lends itself to a greater sense of gripping pressure and a stronger emotional crescendo, and I can't imagine this film working as well without it.
But Nolan's structural genius does nothing without his superb directorial skills- the two are inextricably bonded together. While I still think that Inception is my favorite film from him, Dunkirk is certainly Nolan's finest achievement as a director. He's working at the absolute peak of his powers here, delivering something as blisteringly intense as it is completely engrossing. This is as close to an art film as Nolan has ever made, and while the ticking clock setup and fierce action momentum allow for general audience accessibility, this is as raw and gripping as modern blockbuster filmmaking can get. Nolan balances gorgeously harrowing wide shots that capture the simple beauty and sheer scope of the evacuation with chaotic, unbelievably intense camerawork that takes you close to the action for a more immersive, you-are-there experience. Nolan has thrilled and dazzled with his films before, but Dunkirk has a haunting quality that gives it the look and feel of a cinematic painting- especially in 70mm, this film is a textured epic the likes of which we haven't seen in a long time.
Nolan has a consistent band of collaborators that work with him on nearly every project, and they all embrace the chance to execute his distinct vision. Editor Lee Smith has done every one of Nolan's films since Batman Begins, and enough cannot be said about his work here. Smith connects the three storylines easily, but he also works everything out so that the non-linear nature of the project never hinders the pacing of the film. That's a feat in the best sense of the word, and I have to believe that Oscar glory will be heading his way. Cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema joined the Nolan team with Interstellar, and he takes the opportunity to embrace the simplicity of this story and the images on display. Dunkirk never feels visually busy- it deals with both controlled order and absolute chaos, but Hoytema and Nolan never try to push too many things on the viewer, letting the enormity and desolation of the images tell the story. But if Hoytema's beautifully grim work is subtle in the best possible way, Hans Zimmer's score is overbearing in a way that practically defines the film. It's loud and frightening and absolutely perfect, a ticking time bomb of musical suspense that will leave you breathless. There's a certain track that bounces around in my head every time after I see the film. Zimmer knocks it out of the park once more.
But for all of the virtues of Nolan's craft, he never loses sight of the effect that his filmmaking should have on the audience. Dunkirk is about a world on the edge of destruction, and in the words of the director himself, a world stuck between the possibilities of surrender and annihilation. It's a film about desperation, the lengths that humanity will go to survive during times of great struggle. Nolan's vision is never less than awe-inspiring, as he infuses the film with a perfect sense of exhaustion, fear, and hopelessness, a roller-coaster of sensations that will leave you gasping for air. He doesn't let the audience off the hook, and Dunkirk is a film that puts you through the physical and emotional ringer. It doesn't let up, it doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath, it doesn't even consider dishing out those crowd-pleasing scenes- Dunkirk drops you in and lets the horrors unfold at a remarkably fast clip. This is blunt force cinema at its finest, and the bleak, harsh experience crafted by Nolan is wonderfully contrasted by his elaborately grandiose filmmaking.
Nolan is often considered to be a cold director, one who pushes emotions to the wayside in favor of his dense plotting, mind-blowing twists, and stunning visuals. And when he made his most nakedly emotional film with Interstellar, he was punished by critics for being treacly and sentimental. When it comes to this angle for his films, it seems that Nolan cannot win. Of course, these same claims have already been levied against Dunkirk- that it's lacking in humanity, that it's completely cold, that Nolan lacks any kind of warmth or humorous touch. Having seen the film four times now, I've been able to grasp the narrative and its impact in an interesting way. And it's true, Nolan doesn't give you much when it comes to the characters. I could really only list the names of a few, and there's just a single moment where a character's motivation is described in a way that is meant to tug on your heartstrings. Other than that, Nolan's tight narrative prevents the conventional development of characters, something that most mainstream viewers will probably view as a baffling decision.
But there's no question about it in my mind- Dunkirk is the most human film that Nolan has ever made. By dealing with a subject matter that is grounded in a historical reality, Nolan is able to place his characters under a microscope and examine humanity in the midst of imminent danger. You see this everywhere in Dunkirk. You see it in two scared kids who pick up a random stretcher on the beach, hoping that this wounded man is their ticket to survival. You see it in the trials of an old fisherman, determined to push his boat to the absolute limit in the hopes of helping a grounded pilot. You see it in the sky, as a pilot uses every last drop of fuel to make his way to the beach and stop the enemy from doing further damage. You see it in a group of boys, stuck in a boat and turning on one another as the enemy opens fire on them. Betrayal, anger, the loss of hope, innovation, inaction, and desperation in the face of death- this isn't easy stuff by any measure, and Dunkirk is certainly not an easy film. The merits of patriotism here have already been debated and discussed by much better critics than me, but in my view, Dunkirk is less a movie about triumph and more about grit and dignity in the face of overwhelming odds. A country comes together to save itself from certain disaster, and there's something incredibly noble about this outcome. Nolan never once loses sight of the failure and the magnitude of the casualties during this fateful battle, but he does inject the film with a sense of humanity and an ending that manages to provide profound relief and catharsis to the audience.
But for all of its humanity, for all of the things that make it a rich, deeply personal story, Dunkirk is still an old-fashioned piece of epic entertainment told on a mind-blowing scale that is nothing shy of momentous. It's the kind of movie that could only come from the mind of Christopher Nolan, but it also feels like the filmmaker is displaying cinematic abilities that he hasn't shown us before. It's a propulsive, heart-stopping thriller, one that pushes you to the limit and then some. It's everything that this movie should be, and it is as tensely gripping as it is hauntingly magnificent. It's another work of extraordinary genius from one of the best directors on the planet, a man who has shown us that he is capable of just about anything. Dunkirk is the best movie of the year by a wide margin, a flawless piece of cinema that will surely become a classic. It will leave you in a state of shock and awe for 107 riveting minutes, a feat that most filmmakers could only dream of accomplishing. For Nolan, it's just another film in his growing collection of cinematic monuments.
THE FINAL GRADE: A+ (10/10)
Images: IMDB/WB
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