Film Review: 1917
A Breathtaking Epic at Arm’s Length
A breathtaking technical marvel, Sam Mendes’ 1917 is a single-shot journey through the horrors of World War I. Aided by the sweeping camerawork of cinematographer Roger Deakins, the film is an astonishing piece of storytelling, if a little emotionally frigid. But even with its remoteness, George Mackay and Dean-Charles Chapman put forth tremendous physical performances that make the film a sight to behold. Minor spoilers ahead…
The tracking shot. The long take. The oner. Whatever you decide to call it, no other cinematic device tests the prowess of a filmmaker like a long scene uninterrupted by any cuts. Sam Mendes’ 1917 is the latest ambitious film to apply this daunting task to its entire runtime, sending a pair of British soldiers on a dangerous mission during World War I. With celebrated director of photography Roger Deakins helming the film’s visuals and a coterie of dedicated actors hitting a dizzying number of marks, 1917 is adrenaline-pumping spectacle filled with white-knuckle suspense. But even as one of the most arresting films of the awards season spate, its immediacy is undercut by an arm’s length approach that muffles its emotional quotient.
Taking a page out of Alejandro Iñárritu’s Birdman playbook, English director Sam Mendes tells the story of two British soldiers tasked with calling off a disastrous attack that would lead to massive casualties. Edited to appear as a single take (or two, if you want to be technical about it), 1917 follows Lance Corporals William Schofield (George Mackay, Captain Fantastic, Ophelia) and Thomas Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman, Game of Thrones) as they attempt to deliver their critical message, careening towards danger and almost certain death in an uninterrupted long take. Obviously, it isn’t actually a single tracking shot - instead, 1917 utilizes a series of oners seamlessly stitched together in post. That, however, doesn’t make the feat any less impressive; the technical wizardry delivers a potently gripping experience with a mind-boggling number of moving parts.
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But even as one of the most arresting films of the awards season spate, [1917’s] immediacy is undercut by an arm’s length approach that muffles its emotional quotient.
Oftentimes, the most celebrated long takes are the ones that effectively sell a feeling: Park Chan-wook’s Oldboy and Netflix’s Daredevil have protracted hallway fight scenes that convey exhaustion, the car chase in Alfonso Cuarón’s Children of Men is all about shock and chaos, and perhaps most famously, “The Copa Shot” from Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas puts us in the shoes of Karen Friedman (Lorraine Bracco) as she’s introduced to the glitz and glamor of organized crime. With 1917, Mendes’ end-goal is to immerse his audience in the harrowing terrors of war with an unwavering lens, ratcheting up tension and suspense as the clock ticks against Schofield and Blake. Ironically, however, 1917’s mission of immersion flounders the longer it goes on - perhaps this isn’t an issue for the average movie-goer, but throughout the film’s runtime, I had an increasingly difficult time separating narrative from craft. With an unblinking and omnipresent eye, my focus was drawn to the artifice of the film’s central conceit rather than the agency of the characters: Instead of being in the moment with Schofield and Blake, I looked for every invisible cut, and instead of taking in the horrors of No Man’s Land, I found myself distracted by each scene’s elaborate stagecraft.
And while George Mackay and Dean-Charles Chapman put forth tremendous performances, they do so at arm’s length. Aided by Thomas Newman’s magnificently swelling score, 1917 has plenty of emotional moments, but they’re parceled separately in a long chain of events rather than as a thematic whole. This is partly because the film’s single take format affords Schofield and Blake little interiority; more bodies in motion than fully realized characters, there’s hardly a spare second to lean into any kind of introspection for either man. In fact, many of the film’s fleeting cameos have more to chew on than the protagonists, with Andrew Scott (Fleabag, Sherlock) and Richard Madden (Game of Thrones) giving particularly memorable performances in their limited screentime. But in the end, it’s only the mission that matters, and we routinely leave these interesting players behind in favor of the next big sequence.
1917 is far from a meritless slog, however. Roger Deakins - throughout the film’s 119-minute runtime - continually demonstrates why he’s one of the best cinematographers in the business. The stark desolation of No Man’s Land, the burnt glow of a bombed-out village at dusk - Deakins’ compositions are routinely masterful and enchanting, and paired together with Mendes’ sprawling wartime vision, their technical achievement is undeniably awe-inspiring. The film’s action set-pieces are also among some of the most thrilling ever committed to the medium: An explosive cave-in at the enemy trenches is one of the most viscerally horrifying and claustrophobic sequences in the entire film, and what can only be described as the third act’s mad dash is one of the few times that narrative, spectacle, and emotion converge into something truly special.
Mendes’ decision to film 1917 in unbroken takes is a true double-edged blade, and one that cuts itself quite often. A measured compromise of its emotional quotient to create a visual feast, the film is undoubtedly impressive while remaining remote. There are many that scoff at its narrative device, but to relegate 1917’s achievements to gimmickry does it a great disservice. Despite its frigidity, there’s much to love in Mendes’ latest, delivering an incredible experience that falls just short of making a lasting impact.
