Pulling a trigger may be the single
most dehumanizing act there is. Every time one person makes the
conscious decision to end the life of another, they lose a part of
themselves that cannot be retrieved. Most people would grow ill at
the thought of performing this act even once. What kind of person
would it take to have done it 160 times? How would he/she feel?
In Clint Eastwood's American Sniper,
we're introduced to the real-life figure that epitomizes the moral
quandary at the root of killing for one's country; NAVY Seal Chris
Kyle, who became the deadliest shot in U.S. military history over the
course of four tours in Iraq, earning him the nickname 'Legend'. But
an introduction is not the same as an examination, and as riveting an
introduction it is at times, it does not delve deep enough into the
man behind the 'legend'.
As Taya waits nervously for his safe
return, Kyle begins his famous campaign, picking off enemy insurgents
(passingly referred to as “savages”) from his rooftop perches
with scary precision. No one, not even women and children, could be
safe from his lethal cross-hairs if they pose a threat to the ground
troops. He has only one force to reckon with, in the form of an
equally accurate enemy sniper who always just eludes his rifle sight.
At least, that's the only force he has
to reckon with over there. Back at home, however, he struggles to
adjust to the stable husband/father role that's been lying in wait
for him. Taya knows that no good can come to her husband's embattled
psyche if he returns to fight, but that doesn't stop him from doing
so an additional three times before finally hanging up his fatigues
for good.
The back-and-forth rhythm between tense
combat sequences in Iraq and tensions at home proves effective for a
while, especially thanks to a tight assembly by editors Joel Cox and
Gary Roach. Even though they're unable to carry that momentum right
through to the very end, most of the action set pieces are real
armrest-grippers, most notably the climactic firefight that unfolds
on the fringe of an encroaching sandstorm.
The
film is enduring a storm itself, but one of controversy.
Numerous liberal dissenters have been doing some sniping of their own
at Eastwood's allegedly aggrandizing depiction of Kyle, who is
considered in some corners to be more of a sociopath than a hero.
Enormous credit has to go Bradley Cooper on this front, who delivers
a lived-in, under-the-skin performance that colours in Kyle with
shades of gray that scarcely get noticed in such black-and-white
debates.
The real problem of the film is not
that it glorifies a soldier's killing proficiency. The real problem
is that Eastwood and the script from which he's working (adapted from
Kyle's memoir by Jason Hall) fail to really investigate the
after-effects of all this bloodshed, which is by far the more
compelling side of the drama.
Kyle's struggles with post-traumatic
stress are only glanced at in brief, wasting an opportunity to
comment on the mental health consequences faced by America's veterans
returning from war zones. [SPOILER: Given the circumstances of Kyle's
ultimate tragic fate, this theme deserved more attention.]
Instead, the ramifications of such violent conflicts get largely glossed over in favour of focusing on Kyle's accomplishments. I suppose there's some wisdom in avoiding the political, but in the case of Mr. Eastwood – who once infamously told an empty chair how much he hates Obama – his seeming disinterest in exploring such issues may be considered political by omission.
Is that fair to him though? If certain
viewers perceive American Sniper as pro-war hagiography, does that
make it pro-war hagiography? And is that Eastwood's fault?
It's folly to try and judge the film on
Eastwood's presumed political allegiances. Best we can do is judge
his faculties as a filmmaker, which (at 84 years of age) he proves
that he still hasn't lost entirely. This is his first movie in years
in which his drab aesthetic is actually an appropriate fit for the
subject matter (there's certainly nothing visually glorious about the
war), although he can't resist indulging in a few musical cues that
betray his otherwise objective eye.
This isn't to say there's anything
wrong with praising someone who has such a horrible job to do. By all
accounts, Chris Kyle fought for his country and saved the lives of
many of his fellow soldiers, and there's valour in that. But a man
can be a valourous hero and at
the same time be a fragile human on the brink of being undone
by those very heroics. American Sniper shows us plenty of the
former, but not nearly enough of the latter; A captivating portrait
of the soldier. A woefully incomplete portrait of the man.
**1/2 out of ****