Cailee Spaeny and Kirsten Dunst |
None of this would matter if Garland had imbued his central characters with believable back stories or a mythic aura. Veteran photojournalist Lee (Kirsten Dunst) is passing the torch to neophyte Jessie (Cailee Spaeny). The relationship culminates in an act of self-sacrifice that begs for mythos, but Garland is not that type of artist. He tends to to offer explanations, even in the allegorical fable Men, rather than mystery rites. Here his explicatory asides consist of half-assed farm backgrounds for the distaff duo and a montage of Ms. Dunst pointing her lens at wartime horrors across the globe. We are supposed to believe that a backlog of trauma is finally causing Lee to crack, but Ms. Dunst seems to be imitating Grumpy Cat. Since Ms. Dunst has shown she can play complex mental states, particularly in Melancholia, the onus is on Mr. Garland here for failing to provide context. Ms. Spaeny is even more at sea here than Ms. Dunst.
I want to stress that I did not hate, hate, hate, Civil War. Wagner Moura and Stephen McKinley Henderson have some nice moments. The assault on Washington DC builds with inexorable momentum. The soundtrack is exemplary. Civil War is Garland's most technically impressive film. Ultimately, though, it is also his most uninspired and impersonal work. Civil War most clearly shows off Garland's Achilles heel, an inability to pictorially convey dread and mortification in a horrific setting. The horror in Civil War is never palpable.
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