“You probably heard we ain’t in the prisoner-takin’ business; we in the killin’ Nazi business,” Brad Pitt said as Lt. Aldo Raine in 2009’s Inglourious Basterds. “And cousin, business is a-boomin’.”
This also apparently applies to Pitt’s acting career, as he’s back in the killin’ Nazi business, this time as Sgt. Don Collier in David Ayer’s Fury. Once again, Pitt plays the leader of a ragtag group of soldiers bent on wiping out as many Nazis as possible on their way to helping defeat Hitler and Germany. Unlike Quentin Tarantino’s effort, however, Fury isn’t a virtual cartoon and revisionist historical fantasy.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that Ayer intends to grab viewers by the collar and push their face into the horrors of war. Virtually all of the films that he’s either written (Training Day) or written and directed (Harsh Times, End of Watch, Sabotage) have trafficked heavily in depravity. We’re shown the terrible things that people can do to one another, and the extreme violence that results from those actions.
Ayer’s previous movies have been police dramas set in Los Angeles, largely concerned with the corruption in law enforcement and officers going rogue to see justice — or revenge — carried out. But perhaps he hinted at his interest in a different sort of story with End of Watch, focusing on the partnership between two policemen who do good work and have the best of intentions, but encounter something bigger than they can handle.
Fury is largely centered on the tight bond between the crew manning a Sherman tank, four members of which have been through battles in Africa, France and Germany together. At the beginning of the story, they’ve lost the fifth member of their group, driving back to base with his remains in the tank, some of which are strewn all over his station. (His wide-eyed replacement later has to clean up the carnage, which includes a piece of the soldier’s face.)
As you might imagine, the four jaded, grizzled veterans aren’t too happy when a newbie (played by Logan Lerman) who had previously been working as a typist is pushed into their ranks. That resentment is compounded by the rookie, named Norman Ellison, showing no stomach for violence and killing the enemy. Such reluctance soon costs fellow soldiers their lives. And Norman doesn’t just see them die. One is burning alive and shoots himself in the head to spare further agony.
“That was your fault,” Collier tells Norman. Later, the sergeant makes the young man face his fears and qualms, forcing him to kill a captured Nazi soldier. Rules and basic human decency don’t apply. They’re the enemy, not men with wives and children. Kill them before they kill us. It’s inhuman, but this is war. The only way to survive is to be ruthless and unmerciful. There’s no room whatsoever for civility.
Or is there? One of the most intriguing scenes in the movie takes place following a battle in a small town, after which the victorious American soldiers have a chance to blow off some steam, take out lingering aggression and rest from the fight. Collier notices a woman looking out her window from an apartment above and takes Norman up to investigate.
Who’s hiding up in that apartment? This initially looks like a suspenseful scene in which a woman might be hiding a Nazi soldier. Perhaps it’s a boyfriend, husband, relative or friend. Maybe she’s just trying to prevent one more German from getting killed in this senseless war. Of course, her life could be in danger, being asked to protect a soldier at any cost. That’s certainly what Collier suspects as he enters the apartment, bringing in Norman as backup.
The older German woman is indeed hiding someone, but it’s her younger cousin — likely fearing what the American soldiers might do to an attractive young blonde afraid for her life. For a brief moment, it seems that we might see Collier veer off into a disturbingly dark direction. Given that this was a David Ayer film, that wouldn’t have been completely unexpected.
What might this guy do to these two women after the horrors he’s seen and perpetrated? Is this another “lesson” that the sergeant will try to demonstrate to the rookie? Will Norman end up having to stop his superior officer? Was this going to be like Michael J. Fox vs. Sean Penn in 1989’s Casualties of War?
Instead, the movie gives us something of a surprise: A quiet respite from all of the macho war drama and horrific violence.
Collier does indeed want a break from the battlefield and the testosterone fest that’s the interior of his tank. But he wants some civility, a chance for some normalcy. Perhaps sensing that — or just doing it out of self-preservation — the woman begins preparing a meal for the soldiers. Collier cleans himself up (providing the obligatory Brad Pitt shirtless scene). He reads the newspaper. Norman shows that he’s not a callous brute by playing the piano, something that melts the heart of the younger German woman.
Eventually, the relatively tranquil scene is interrupted by Collier’s other soldiers, wondering where their commanding officer and the rookie went off to. Perhaps they also thought something was wrong, as the two disappeared for quite a while. To me, this added another layer of character study to the scene.
The other three soldiers are jealous and resentful. But who exactly are they angry at? Are they upset that the rookie got to enjoy some nice food and drink, not to mention the company of a pretty woman? (Michael Pena’s character recalls a battle the group had in Normandy, ending the story by saying to Norman, “You weren’t there.”) Are they pissed off at Collier for not inviting them up to the apartment, who could have been worried that the brutish soldiers would ruin his moment of peace and normalcy? Or worse, terrorize two innocents? Did they feel abandoned? After all, isn’t the whole crew in this together, no matter how bad the war gets?
This scene doesn’t work for everyone. I’ve heard and read several critics and reporters say that it’s too slow and stalls the movie. Others have said it comes off more as an acting workshop exercise, especially once the soldiers and civilians sit down for a home-cooked meal. I thought it provided a fascinating contrast. Perhaps it’s the creative writer in me (going back to that workshop criticism), but I felt like an entire story could have been written from that scene. Hell, I’ve devoted one-third of this review to it. I can’t recall ever seeing anything like it in a war movie before.
Fury probably is a far better movie when it shows the soldiers at battle. I was particularly impressed how Ayer made a standoff in a field between three American tanks and a hulking, seemingly invulnerable German counterpart exciting and dramatic. In a different director’s hands, this sequence might have been boring or even silly. We’re talking about four lumbering vehicles engaged in battle, much of it by firing artillery from afar. Yet the sequence has a surprising energy to it, especially when it looks like the heroes of the film are in major trouble.
I’m hardly an authority on war movies. I haven’t seen them all, and I wouldn’t say I seek them out in theaters or on video. But Fury is the best war movie I’ve seen since Saving Private Ryan, and since that film isn’t fresh in my memory, I might go so far as to say Fury is better. At least certain aspects of it. It’s also one of the best movies I’ve seen this year — period. There have been other movies I’ve really enjoyed, and we’re getting to that time of the year when writers and critics begin to assemble year-end, best-of lists. But none of them grabbed and pulled me in more than this one.
Don’t write this off because Brad Pitt is the lead or because Shia LeBeouf is in the cast. (LeBeouf is very good, by the way. I’ve never seen him in anything better.) Michael Pena and Jon Bernthal do great work in virtually every role they play. Don’t dismiss this as a macho war movie or avoid it because it’s dark, violent and sad. If you do, you’ll be cheating yourself as a moviegoer. You and Fury deserve better than that.
