Wednesday, June 2, 2010

The Messenger (2009) ****/*****

A quick poking around Internet reference sites has led me to believe that Tearing Down the Spanish Flag from 1898 is the first war film ever made.  That’s a whole lot of years of people making war films, and it’s no wonder that I’ve begun to tire of them over the years.  Every decade has its landmark war movies.  Every notable filmmaker seems to have their entry in the genre.  Despite all of the different wars that our aggressive species has waged, that’s a lot of stories about fighting with little more than scenery and weaponry changes to differentiate one film from another.   In order to keep the genre going, it’s high time that filmmakers start to innovate, to look at the subject from different angles, to give their works a way to stand out from the pack and be noticed.  The Messenger accomplishes this by focusing on a part of war that usually gets glossed over.  Every war movie worth its salt has a scene where a mother back at home is informed that her son has been killed in battle.  She’s doing something mundane around the house when she sees a man in military uniform pull up in front of her house.  Instantly she knows what it means, maybe she drops to the floor, maybe she begins shrieking, or maybe she stands there in a state of shock.  Whatever the reaction, chances are it’s played out in slow motion, and chances are the camera is focused on the woman.  The man is secondary, a bit part, a nobody actor.  But where did he come from?  Who is he?  How does he handle being the bearer of nothing but bad news wherever he goes?  The Messenger plays out this same clichéd scenario over and over again over the course of its runtime, but for once the camera isn’t focused on the bereaved, the focus is on the messenger.  There is zero action in this film, no fighting, no onscreen death.  The Messenger skips over all of that exciting stuff and focuses on the boring parts, the aftermath of the fighting, the broken families, and the broken soldiers.  But because these so called boring parts are so infrequently focused on by the war film genre, the material here feels very fresh.  By focusing on the bits we never really see in other films, The Messenger is able to be one of the most exciting war films I’ve seen in a while.  And without ever once resorting to a harrowing, slow motion battle sequence it manages to deal with the horrors of war perhaps better than any film I’ve seen in the last ten years.

 That soldier that’s finally getting all the focus is Will Montgomery (Ben Foster), a recently returned veteran of the war on terror who has had his face kind of blown up and might very well be experiencing some mental issues.  Now back in the States, he is given both a prescription by a doctor to help his constantly leaking eye and an assignment to the casualty notification team.  His commanding officer, partner, and mentor is a recovering alcoholic named Tony Stone (Woody Harrelson).  Harrelson plays the character initially as a hard assed, straight laced authority figure, but he’s able to keep a twinkle in his eye that lets you know there might be some mischief lurking underneath his carefully crafted exterior.  He got an Oscar nomination for the role, and does work good enough to deserve it, but what should also be noted is that Foster keeps up with him in their scenes together, anchors a bigger portion of the film, and probably should have been just as recognized for his acting when award season rolled around.  The duo goes around from next of kin to next of kin, notifying them that their loved ones have been killed in battle; Montgomery learns the ropes, Stone treats Montgomery as a captive audience for his motor mouthed life lessons, and the two start to become friends of sorts.  Much of the conflict in the story is internal, Montgomery trying to adapt himself back into life in the civilian world, Stone attempting to keep his past demons repressed, but a bit of an external conflict creeps into the duo’s lives when they have to notify a woman named Olivia Pitterson (Samantha Morton) that her husband has been killed in action and Montgomery has a strong emotional reaction to her calm, empathetic reaction to the news: she seems more concerned about how awful working on casualty notification must be than she does the fact that her husband is dead.

Since most of the conflict in the story is internal, the largest focus of the movie is on its actors and their performances.  Each of the three main actors are playing characters that are fatigued from fighting various battles.  For Montgomery it’s war, for Stone it’s struggling with sobriety, for Olivia it’s coming to grips with the end of a bad marriage.  Most of what the characters are feeling is left unspoken; the dialogue is largely arbitrary with the real story being told in the actors’ facial expressions and body language.  Foster, Harrelson, and Morton are all up to the challenge and convey their character’s internal struggles in a way that looks effortless.

Most of the scenes that give us insight into Montgomery are ones performed in solitude.  When he’s out on the job with Stone, the two take on an almost Jay and Silent Bob like dynamic, where Stone endlessly philosophizes and Montgomery remains still, responds only in short, curt ways, and quietly seethes.  But when he’s alone in his apartment he lashes out in unsettling ways.  He blasts heavy metal at inappropriate hours, he punches holes in his walls, and he violently throws darts in his underwear.  His private life is a rage filled mess similar to Martin Sheen’s in the opening of Apocalypse Now.  When he meets Olivia he clearly wants to help her despite Stone’s warnings that you do not console the next of kin, you do not touch the next of kin, you are not there to be their friend, you are there simply to give them necessary information.  Olivia seems uncomfortable with his attention at first, but he persists.  He helps her with chores around the house; he tries to bond with her son.  His character seems to be pragmatic, he needs to help; he needs to fix things.  You get a sense that he is feeling a loss of purpose now that he has been separated from combat.  He defines himself by the job he does, and consequently he lets the grief surrounding his current work infect him and manipulate his emotions.  Under all of this his character is laced with a growing rage, a ticking time bomb of unfocused anger left over from the war.  Montgomery doesn’t know how to live in his current environment, and watching him awkwardly attempt and fail to adapt is much of the film’s substance.

Harrelson’s character is interestingly complex and it took a lot of skill to make his character arc play out in a coherent fashion.  He seems to be a man who has created a thick wall of defenses.  He has addiction in his past.  We’re told that he regrets never having seen any real combat in his military career and he consequently feels guilt, loss of purpose, and a longing to act out in primal ways.  He hides his feelings behind a mask of procedures and rules.  Despite this strict, by the book philosophy, it’s not long before we begin to sense a loneliness and longing for connection in Stone.  His lessons to Montgomery go on a bit long, he starts inviting his younger counterpart out to bars after the workday is over, making excuses to call him in the middle of the night.  Stone is a man who has created a false persona for himself and doesn’t seem to be able to maintain it.  Over the course of the film we watch him falter in his sobriety, compulsively pursue meaningless sexual encounters, and eventually the intimidating rock of a man that he initially appears to be crumbles into a childish, drunken, mess of a human being.  That he manages to eventually develop an attachment with Montgomery and find a bond with him might be his salvation, nonetheless.     

Samantha Morton gets less screen time than the men, but does a good job making the character of Olivia feel fully crafted as well.  She plays her character very restrained, and very uneasy at the thought of creating any sort of connection with Montgomery; but she’s always able to project some emotion and vulnerability from behind her eyes.  She’s not movie star pretty, but you can see why Montgomery would desire her.  She looks and feels like a real person, not just an empty ideal for our protagonist to pursue.  This is very refreshing.  Their courtship is awkward and slow, neither of them comfortable with what their relationship is or how they should be acting toward one another.  If there wasn’t a struggle in their growing together it wouldn’t be believable, and the characters wouldn’t have came off as likable.  Olivia doesn’t say much about her deceased husband, but mentions that he wasn’t a good man.  Her pain isn’t explained to you, it’s left up to you to discover through watching her interactions with Montgomery.  The Messenger never doubts your intelligence as an audience member or doubts it’s actors abilities to hint at greater depths without relying on expository dialogue.  With only a smidge of screen time, and only a sprinkling of a backstory, Morton is able to create a character that feels lived in and complex.

People who are in the military, have a loved one in the military, or are particularly interested in the military are the ones who are going to most likely enjoy this film the most.  The heart and soul of the picture is the lives of soldiers, how they are affected by wartime, and how their lives impact their families.  The film takes several opportunities to explore how the military sees men as tools rather than humans.  It starts with Stone teaching Montgomery to deliver the news of death in a cold, unsympathetic way, and goes on to permeate the rest of the film in more subtle ways.  There is a scene in a shopping mall where Montgomery sees Olivia confront a couple of army recruiters talking to a group of teenagers.  The recruiters are slick talking salesmen.  They are all pitch and charisma, trying to relate to potential recruits in a very one on one, human way.  The interaction is in stark contrast to how the casualty notification team is ordered to deal with civilians.  The personalities of the soldiers are what they’re ordered to be, what it takes to get their job done, and never organic or natural.  They are supposed to be more robots posing as men than men.  Later on there is a scene where Montgomery and Stone drunkenly play soldier in the parking lot during a wedding reception.  They point their fingers like guns and shoot at imaginary enemies.  It’s an effective way of showing the sort of stunted man-children war can often breed. As Montgomery and Stone play soldier they chant a song about how much they love war almost unconsciously; at that moment they feel less like heroes and more like brainwashed cult victims.  The two men have been made into soldiers and are now able to function as nothing else.  Once the tool has been forged and used in combat, there is little thought by the establishment as to what will become of the man after he is discarded.

And while the performances are the greatest strength of the film, The Messenger is also intricately and competently crafted by its director Oren Moverman.  Montgomery’s apartment is sparsely decorated and feels cold and empty.  Those early scenes of him inhabiting the space alone are always shot with him at the very corner of the frame, exaggerating the vastness and emptiness of the space.  In a scene that takes place later on in the film Stone is in Montgomery’s apartment with him.  As they talk on the couch they are sat perfectly in the center of the frame.  Slowly the shot zooms in on them closer and closer.  Suddenly the apartment feels intimate and cozy rather than vast and cavernous.  The two characters feel less isolated and empty now that they’ve found each other, and you respond to them in a different way than you did at the beginning of the film due to how the filmmakers present them.  This sharp focus on the characters is what separates The Messenger from other war films like The Hurt Locker, which came out the same year and was loved by seemingly everyone but me.  Here we meet the characters at a crisis point, see them fall from grace, and get a resolution as to how they are affected by this as individuals.  The main character in The Hurt Locker, while sharing quite a bit with Foster’s character here, came off to me as more of an everyman.  Jeremy Renner’s character started that film as a messed up meathead adrenaline junky and ended the film the same way.  His struggles with the horrors of war brought about no change in him as a person and served as more of a preachy message about how war leaves scars that can’t be healed.  The message is fine, the message is the same in both films; but in The Messenger it’s extrapolated inside the framework of a story about a person, in The Hurt Locker, and many other similar films, it’s beat over our heads in between action sequences.  The Hurt Locker told us that soldiers are broken and then showed us the proof.  The Messenger explored the pieces and made us care about them.  The ending here is ambiguous, yet kind of hopeful.  It leaves us to decide for ourselves what is going to happen next, and whether or not Foster’s character is going to be able to heal.  The ending of The Hurt Locker is bleak, nihilistic, and filled with false bravado.  And somehow, even though it ends on a more potentially happy note than The Hurt Locker’s doom scenario, The Messenger manages to feel less Hollywood and clichéd regardless.  If you’re at all interested in gaining insight into the lives of today’s soldiers, or are a fan of any of the people involved in making this film, then The Messenger is an easy recommendation.