Hacksaw Ridge Review

 

Ever hear of that 90's flick From Dusk till Dawn? It is a cult classic film, famous for numerous things but perhaps most for its abrupt tonal shift; starting as a cold, bloody thriller to a bloody vampire flick. Right now, and for about half the film, the Robert Rodriguez feature has nothing to do with with Hacksaw Ridge, the latest Mel Gibson film. Things begin so innocently, telling the story of two young boys play under the overbearing supervision of their mother, played generically by Rachel Griffiths, and the passive disinterest of their soused father, played more effectively by Hugo Weaving. One day, during rough play, our main protagonist, Desmond, picks up a nearby brick and slaps his sibling, Hal, in the face. This solidifies his faith in God and sets the religious and anti-violence theme of the remainder of the movie, but it is such an unanticipated and brutal scene that it is difficult rooting for someone who we were introduced to smacking his brother with a brick. Maybe the film is actually a metaphor for poor parenting.

Years later, Desmond, sans brick, is grown up and becomes infatuated by a local nurse, played by the very charming Teresa Palmer. They meet by chance, but our protagonist wastes no time asking her out, then for her hand in marriage. The two almost have a chemistry, but Desmond, played by the dopey faced Andrew Garfield, does his best impression of Forrest Gump, giggling and looking unconcerned throughout much of the 131 minute flick. And even when he channels emotion, he still cannot help but add an ounce of smugness.

Desmond joins the army, in the footsteps of his brother, but as a conscientious objector, with the intent of becoming a medic. His squad consists of one-dimensional guys, all with a single niche that serves as the only way the audience can identify them, i.e., there are two guys who gamble, one who reads, one who dreams of going to Hollywood, you know the drill. Under command of Sergeant Howell, played by Vince Vaughn, gives a bizarrely bipolar performance, who goes from barking orders with a goofy sense of misplaced humor to genuinely displaying compassion for Desmond at whim. Perhaps that is another one of Howell's eccentric jokes.

He passes each day of training with flying colors, that is, until he is instructed to pick up a gun, which he refuses. This leads to scenes of impotent courtroom drama, where his otherwise drunkard father swoops in to save his son from going to prison for insubordination. Charges dismissed, Desmond and his team get sent off to the Battle of Okinawa, where they must climb the titular "Hacksaw Ridge."

Remember when I referenced "From Dusk till Dawn?" Remember that almost egregious shift in tone? Well, that change in tone is escalated here, where blood splattered from both sides of the war, guts explode out of soldiers and there is an almost voyeuristic focus on the numerous decapitations and gunshot wounds. But it never lingers on any image for long, as there is always another soldier to watch- watch as his head vomits his brain from an unseen marksman. There is zero relief from the onscreen violence, and even less preparation for it, as this harsh tonal change happens without warning. It is a rollercoaster ride, only it is one that once you drop, you never stop dropping; I wish I was not tall enough to ride it. The remainder of the movie reaches down your gut and rips up what ever it could grab.

The film depicts the adversary, the Japanese military, as hollow gunslingers who are happy charging blindly into the Americans. There is no identifying with them, they have no personality and are as mindless as an extraterrestrial in a summer blockbuster. And when the Americans win the battle, the film expects you to share the victory with them, to share the patriotism. Look, I know what happened, and I know that this is a movie, but for a film that begins so anti-gun and anti-violence, there is a lot of killing of man. There was a guy in the seat behind me, who spend the entire movie coughing like he was auditioning for a cold medicine commercial. I am not sure which I was more disgusted at.

I can admire the film's craftsmanship and appreciate it's brutality, and it gets high marks for its professionalism and effectiveness. But walking out after seeing it, I felt uncomfortable and fatigued, and even with a happy ending, I did not feel happy. If you go into the theater already disliking the notion of war, this film will make you hate it. And you will also hate yourself if you eat before you see it.