You know how sometimes when there’s been such a wide spectrum of passionate, well-argued reactions to a film that you begin to think that it might actually be superb since it’s already ignited such a fascinating and polarizing debate? Well, “Civil War” proves that theory wrong.
The chatter around director Alex Garland’s film began last December when its trailer debuted. It includes a few recognizable hot buttons: the White House in peril, an undesired president, journalists under threat, a white supremacist wielding an assault rifle, overzealous armed forces, a blissfully ignorant white woman actively trying “to stay out” of it all.
“God bless America,” the president (Nick Offerman) says in the two-and-half-minute teaser. Another historically loaded statement that reeks of weaponized patriotism and Christianity.
It was the exact combination of images to provoke an already intensified audience — particularly on social media, where whole arguments are sometimes erected based merely on a seven-word post. The understanding was that “Civil War” was about to be released during a “very important election year” (reciting a common sentiment there, but when isn’t it important?).
A disgraced Donald Trump is still in the running for U.S. presidency. Multiple wars are happening across the world, including in countries where journalists are killed in their pursuit of the truth. Misinformation and ongoing attacks on journalism are also routine right here in America, where white supremacists are empowered and culture wars on- and offline persist.
“Civil War,” from a director whose fans believe thoughtfully confronts issues like misogyny and artificial intelligence in films including “Men” and “Ex Machina” (both of which are deeply flawed, by the way), was assumed to be provoking vital conversations around American dissension.
But all it actually does is kick up a lot of dust around controversial topics without actually examining or even adequately portraying any of them. The film, from Garland’s own script, centers on war photojournalists capturing dangerous unrest across the nation as they drive from New York to Washington, D.C., where there are plans to attack — or maybe kill — the president.
What exactly is the source of the president’s issue here? “Civil War” doesn’t really care to specify. It instead presents us with a vaguely villainous archetype in the form of a white man in power who’s turned against his own citizens for some unexplained reason. The idea, presumably, is that audiences will just fill in the blanks on their own if given enough triggers.
Offerman’s character doesn’t even have a name. He’s just referred to as “President” in the credits, because apparently that position alone should be enough to spark some kind of fervor among audiences. Like, take it from there, folks.
Much of “Civil War” is like that. Everything about it feels so remarkably undeveloped. That includes its main protagonists, the people meant to ground and humanize the movie. But they’re so thinly, and at times preposterously, drawn that you instantly begin looking elsewhere in the film for a pulse.
Kirsten Dunst plays Lee Miller, a jaded longtime journalist now desensitized to graphic symbols of war. In an early scene, she robotically snaps away at her camera as civilians are executed in the street.
It’s there that Lee meets Jessie (Cailee Spaeny), a cherubic journalist flailing amid the chaos, and offers her a hand. Lee’s stoicism and Jessie’s naivete should have marked the beginning and end of their relationship — and to be fair, Lee writes the moment off too — but “Civil War” insists on trying to build unearned emotion for two different yet equally uninteresting characters.
Despite proving no such savvy before, Jessie finagles her way onto the journalist road trip alongside Lee’s partner Joel (Wagner Moura), as does veteran journalist Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson). With this ragtag group now assembled, the film moves along to a hodgepodge of violent, racist — or, at the very least, tremulous — scenes across America.
That narrative progression is effective in some regard. There’s mounting suspense as the characters sometimes contend with rooftop snipers, obtuse store clerks or gun-happy racists who get their rocks off by murdering undesired Americans on sight (Jesse Plemons breathes some much-needed tension into the film here). You’re never sure whether they’ll make it to D.C.
Or even what they’re expecting to actually happen once they do arrive at the capital. A citizens’ uprising, maybe — but for what reason? And what side of what war is everyone even on? What are they fighting about? Again, we get no answers.
Any journalist worth their salt always has at least some inkling of the point of a story before they actually descend into it. This group just seems to be bumbling alongside armed forces capturing still shots of everything they see, from fresh corpses to angry people in military uniforms (it’s hard to tell whether they’re citizens or officers), with no discernible purpose each time.
Not even the story’s consistent need to remind us that they must take the shot and just keep moving validates this level of journalistic sloppiness. Journalism here is so tedious that when Joel tries to appeal to a man in camouflage obligatorily shooting at a sniper by telling him that he’s press, the man just says something like, yeah, I got that from the word “Press” on your car.
Even reading that scene as an indicator of how meaningless people find journalism, which is a legit problem, doesn’t work. Because journalism doesn’t mean much to the journalists in the movie either.
That’s a fundamental misunderstanding of its function inside a film that not only centralizes journalists but also aims to glorify them. Or so that’s what Garland has explained. “I think serious journalism needs protecting, because it’s under attack,” the filmmaker told The Guardian, “so I wanted to make those people ‘heroes’ to put them front and centre.”
But they’ve got no real importance, and that issue is especially exacerbated in a movie where all characters — both minor and major — are flattened as equally frivolous and volatile participants in this political ire.
Garland seems to understand that there is a certain level of objectivity that should always be required in journalism, which could complicate the argument against that flattening a bit. “One of the things I tried to do was show journalists as reporters, intentionally keeping bias out of their reporting,” he told the Los Angeles Times.
But both the journalists and journalism are inept here. How does that make them heroes?
The director added that the journalist’s job is to make other people ask questions — and that “Civil War” is acting as that reporter, provoking questions from the audience. But those questions shouldn’t include: What is this film actually about? It doesn’t encourage sharper questions than that. That’s not a sign of provocation; it’s a sign that it’s not a smart movie.
It’s interesting to see “Civil War” categorized as an action film on its IMDb page. While there are many complex action films that contain a lot more than explosions and chase scenes, Garland’s film really is just the type of offering in which big, loud things just happen. Then it ends.
Many moments in “Civil War” are flimsily designed to stir audiences with images of violent conflict, like a White House massacre, interwoven with increasingly contrived human conflict like Lee’s emotional decline and Jessie’s random act of precision during the film’s climactic combat.
While the violence in the movie is both shot and portrayed in a way that does lend itself to the nonsensical nature of war, the human conflict is less convincing in a story that spans just a matter of days. Why would Lee begin to suddenly feel like maybe photographing America in flames isn’t actively confronting the real problem — whatever that is here?
How does Jessie, who in the short time they know her makes a handful of terrible choices that, at the bare minimum, risks her fellow journalists’ lives, suddenly find the bravery to stand in the line of fire to snap a pivotal shot? And why would Lee be so painfully protective of Jessie, a person she merely tolerates and for whom she’s exhibited little patience?
That’s a foolish penultimate storyline as “Civil War” barrels toward a self-satisfying and even goofier conclusion.
Do the journalists actually win in this story? No, but also, win what? A clearer question is: Does the audience win? That’s a resounding no.
The film drops us inside a deeply divided America by utilizing myriad political trigger points that act only to garner a flurry of ardent responses from audiences and that only tangentially relate to what happens in the plot.
Maybe, as Garland suggested following the film’s SXSW premiere last month, that is a result of our own polarization and refusal to engage critically with each other. That’s a very real thing we don’t talk enough about.
Many of the discussions around the film, including interviews with Garland, have been refreshing and necessary. As a Londoner, he clearly has been thinking a lot about the dire state of affairs in America that needs untangling, though with little attention paid to the source of that dissent that is woefully evident with “Civil War.”
None of that marginally deep consideration or even the messages viewers have projected onto the film negates that it lacks actual merit of its own.
“Why are we talking and not listening?” Garland asked at SXSW. In the case of his actual film, though, it’s because it says a whole lot of nothing.
“Civil War” hits theaters Friday.