Civil War

Civil War may present itself as a dystopian timeline, bringing with it the desolation of the United States. But while this may be a concept worth discussing, Alex Garland offers more to dissect and explore than the inevitable political discourse for the presidential election.

Imagining a world where the United States disbands, each state fighting for themselves under the illusion of a free country, there’s a solid reminiscence for the January 6th insurrection, which lingers throughout Alex Garland’s self-written and directed Civil War. However, thankfully the insurrection and its worrying ramifications for the upcoming election isn’t the message it spends its runtime making.

Instead, with Kirsten Dunst as our lead, Lee, a long-standing photography journalist, the film repositions itself, forcing audiences to question their standing on war and its portrayal in media. This an especially poignant point, given the misinformation and propaganda for the conflict between Israel and Palestine, with the film’s release date coincidentally coinciding with both the final day of the Cinema for Gaza charity fundraiser, which raised over £200,000 for Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP), and the anniversary of the American Civil War which began in 1861.

In a typical road trip sense, the story takes a family dynamic of characters: maternal, paternal, geriatric and childish characters as they journey from A to B, in this case, New York to Charlottesville, where the situations they involve themselves in are of more interest than the destination. However, in Civil War, the group’s destination is the front line of the raging war, vying to be the first set of journalists to capture the crumbling of the last line of defence before storming further into Virginia, seizing the White House and being the one to capture the ultimate photo: the elimination of the President (Nick Offerman).

But much like any great road trip family dynamic, whether Little Miss Sunshine (2006) or The Mitchells vs the Machines (2021), ultimately, the characters make or break the film. Thankfully, Garland’s seasoned writing career proves his understanding and consistency in delivering, proven once more with Civil War’s fine-tuned ensemble. Where Dunst’s Lee is a hardened, cynical journalist, the type to not fuss about wearing a Press vest, fearing it to jeopardise an image, her antithesis, Jessie (Cailee Spaeny), champs at the bit to be like Lee, her naïve eagerness oddly similar to Buddy from The Incredibles (2004).

The pair are accompanied by Lee’s colleague Joel (Wagner Moura) and Sammy, a correspondent for rival publication The New York Times, played by Stephen McKinley Henderson. The road trip dynamic of mother-father-child-grandparent, as used in Little Miss Sunshine, is here used as working professionals, but the age differentials, and dynamics certainly replicate the tried-and-tested formula.

Coincidentally, the character arc of Buddy and Jessie lingers in mind as a parallel the film invites us to explore, especially after one photo taken early in the movie captured by Jessie shows Lee standing amongst recently-murdered bodies, photographing the aftermath of a suicide bomber. The macabre for Lee becomes beauty, yet, through Jessie’s viewfinder, the distance we see to our subject and its aftermath becomes the focus. Is this perhaps a separation of Lee from the world, finding life in death, or a commentary on Lee’s exploitative career through Jessie’s eyes?

In fact, in the rhetorical presentation of morality and art, Garland’s Civil War reaches unequivocal heights. One particular sequence involving a Winter Wonderland shootout is heart-poundingly tense and accentuates this point, as with no sign of threat, trap or ruse, the travelling journalists stop after seeing a dead soldier on the road. Yet, everything seems quiet, with only wooden festive decorations and an ongoing bubble blower for company. Too quiet. And yet, in the unfolding moments after, we learn of two cornered fighters trying to eliminate a sniper. Removed of any political alliance or sway, at this moment, all that matters is they all have a gun ready to shoot. For all we know, they could be both on the same side. Regardless, it’s either kill or be killed.

To achieve this masterful display, Garland relies once again on his long-standing collaboration with cinematographer Rob Hardy, whose credit and attentiveness desire as much praise and dissection as the stills taken by Dunst and Spaeny. Manipulating aperture and focus pulling, Hardy replicates the work of the journalists in framing the subjects and their landscape as an invitation for us as spectators to explore and analyse.

One example of Hardy’s consideration illustrating how the camera and character are so closely linked in Civil War is the expression of Lee’s PTSD caused by witnessing endless traumas and atrocities. Her perception of the world shifts into her viewfinder, distorted at the edges into a blurred vignette, whilst the sharper edges blur into RGB anaglyph. Her world is her camera, so it makes sense that we must see the world through her camera to enter her world.

But in a world of smartphones, where global atrocities are recorded and shared, allowing for and understanding the separation between self and screen is crucial and is perhaps the most significant idea that Garland poses. As its credits roll over a developing polaroid of soldiers kneeling over their trophy, Garland asks us one final time to consider whether this could have been avoided or if it needed to be documented this way. After all, to quote Edwin Starr, “war, what is it good for?”

Civil War is in UK cinemas from 12 April.