By: Justin Eisinger

Acclaimed director Francois Truffaut famously said that it was impossible to make an anti-war film because all war films inadvertently made war look exciting. Truffaut didn’t live to see The Messenger. He would have applauded it.

The Messenger, directed by Oren Moverman, doesn’t feature any on-screen depictions of war. No one gets shot. Nothing gets blown-up. Yet, it deals with the effects of war on the psyche of the soldier as frankly as any movie since Full Metal Jacket. One scene features an emotional re-telling of a bloody war scene. It hits harder than an entire reel’s worth of graphic visuals.

Moverman’s debut film stars Ben Foster as Staff Sergeant Will Montgomery. Will is a not just a good soldier, but a veritable war hero, returning to the US because of wounds suffered in action. His serious, unflappable demeanor is an elaborate disguise, masking a hidden vulnerability. As the film opens, we see Will placing eye drops in his wounded left eye. They stream down his face like tears.

The stoic Montgomery would never permit himself to cry, however. But, he is clearly disillusioned with the everyday world he has returned to. He has no family to speak of, and Kelly (Jena Malone), his ex-girlfriend, has moved on and is in a serious relationship with some twerp named Alan (Michael Chernus). Foster is terrific in the role, slowly revealing the painful yearning that hides behind his rough exterior. His army regimented physical and verbal expressions carefully belie a vicious rage threatening to be unleashed.

Montgomery has no coping mechanisms, no healthy way of releasing his pent-up anger. This makes him a strange choice for a Casualty Notification Team, responsible for the delicate task of informing next-of-kin civilians that their loves one have been killed in duty. Will can’t even recognize his own grief, let alone the grief of strangers.

His commanding officer for the task is Captain Tony Stone, played by Woody Harrelson. As strong as Foster is in the lead role, Harrelson owns this movie. From the first time we see him, looking like some terrifying cross between Jack Nicholson in The Last Detail and pro wrestler “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, Harrelson radiates a menacing penchant for violence. His blunt sense of humor doesn’t relieve tension, but creates it.

Stone instructs Montgomery on the essentials of the job, treating a seemingly emotional situation with a harsh practicality. For Stone, who never got his war like Montgomery had Iraq, these notifications represent a military operation. And he handles it with all the deliberation and personality of an air-raid. The notifications are tense, harrowing scenes that explode with raw emotion.

No war film has ever been made from this unusual perspective. Avoiding climatic battles, and concentrating solely on war’s irrevocable after-effects, Overman has made a war film that doesn’t even remotely glorify war. Conversely, it shows the struggle of a soldier to pick up the pieces of his life at home, as well as the trauma inflicted on the families of those not fortunate enough to return.

Writer/Director Moverman loses his focus in the film’s second half as Montgomery becomes entangled in a sticky romantic situation with one of the widows he notifies. The widow, Olivia, is played skillfully by Samantha Morton, and the scenes between her and Foster are tender and genuine. But the audience never truly buys their relationship. Certainly, they both find themselves abandoned and alone. But Moverman never establishes what draws them together besides their mutual desperation. Perhaps that could be sufficient in another film, but we care too much about these characters to see them settle for that.

The film is unflinchingly realistic, which serves to develop our emotional connection with Montgomery, Stone, and Olivia. The only music in the film is “source music,” meaning it comes from within the movie: a stereo, a radio, etc. The struggles of a newly returned solider to a home that is strikingly alien are perfectly realized. “The Messenger” strikes only a few false notes, but unfortunately, they stand out in comparison to the rest of the film’s natural authenticity. One occurs when Montgomery and Stone notify a father played by Steve Buscemi. Buscemi is a fine actor, but here, he comes across as just that – an actor, not a father being informed of his son’s death. His reaction is too staged, and seems silly when compared to the terrific job done by the other, lesser-known actors who play the unlucky recipients.

Qualms aside, The Messenger is a unique look at the shattering effect war has not only on soldiers, but on the families they leave behind. Thankfully, the film finds a hopeful, redemptive tone in its final act, allowing for some much needed levity. But Overman’s message sticks with you. Truffaut would be stunned – here is a film that condemns war to its very core.

This film comes to us from German director Christian Alvart.  Alvart’s most recent production before this is the German film Antibodies that was actually a decent psychological thriller.  American studios liked it so much, they picked up the rights and hired Alvart to make a bastardized US version (look for it in 2011).

Pandorum takes place on a very quiet, very dark spaceship a few hundred years in the future.  A Noah’s ark if you will, produced out of necessity since Earth finally gave up the ghost (and all her fissile materials).  There’s all sorts of futuristic jargon thrown around to cover plot holes.  But basically, Bower (Ben Foster), wakes up from a hyper-sleep all sticky and covered in dead skin (he seems to have been sleeping for about eight years) to find no one around on the enormous ship supposedly holding 16,000 passengers.  There are power problems, and apparently hyper-sleep temporarily affects memory, conveniently allowing the characters to remember things sometimes incorrectly, sometimes correctly, but always in the nick of time to do, well, whatever the plot asks them to do.  Quickly after Bower wakes up, so does Payton (Dennis Quaid).

Foster’s penchant for overacting (see: 3:10 to Yuma, Alpha Dog) is in full force here, as his character runs around the ship with an Asian farmer (Cung Le) and a stacked Russian(?) zoo keeper (Antje Traue).  Payton spends the majority of the film sequestered in a small room talking into radio silence, hoping to get back in contact with Bower, which actually demands the exact amount of acting skill Quaid has.  All the characters are avoiding slimy mutants that appear on the ship with no real explanation.  The mutants look just like Neil Marshall’s crawlers from The Descent.  In fact, Avart seems to have taken a ton of cues from Marshall’s films.

Avart proves here (and in Antibodies) that he can manage an atmosphere quiet well.  But the majority of the film is simply too dark.  Especially the fight sequences which forces the audience to squint and try and catch more than just a glimpse of flailing limbs in the shadows.  The screenplay by Travis Milloy is weak and underdeveloped (yes, that convenient memory loss excuses any sort of character development), but at the very least was pleasantly free of lame one-liners.  Despite its flaws, Pandorum will still make you feel uneasy and provides more than a few scary moments.  As long as your expectations are low, you won’t be disappointed.

Bitchin' Stars: 1.5 out of 4 stars

The story follows Will (Ben Foster), a decorated war hero that came home with a purple heart for saving some friends during an attack in some nameless Iraqi city. Although he’s sent back to the states, he still has a few months left of service.  His superior assigns him to the task force in charge of informing the next of kin of soldiers’ deaths within twenty four hours of the event.  This is a two man job, and he’s partnered up with Tony Stone (Woody Harrelson), who is clearly damaged goods (even though he’s never seen any real action).  He’s in quasi-recovery from alcoholism and does things by the book.  The two form an awkward bro-mance and go from family to family informing them of the worst news they’ll probably receive.  Will becomes particularly affected by Olivia (Samantha Morton), whom he informs her husband is dead.

The standout quality of the film is the performances of the three leads.  Foster takes the role to heart and clearly becomes the product of a war gone wrong.  Harrelson also had his work cut out for him, but manages to play a broken man excessively well.  Morton’s performance was much subtler (and smaller), but was just as powerful.  It’s wildly entertaining watching Will and Olivia enter into a sexless, awkward relationship that both fight because, well, her husband just died, and he’s the soldier that informed her of the fact. The conflict is never really discussed, but the actors manage to speak volumes without really saying much.

Moverman’s direction isn’t really that impressive.  Without the talented cast, the movie would have been extremely flat.  Partly to blame for this is the script that Moverman co-wrote with Alessandro Camon (the relatively successful producer responsible for Fur). There was also an uncomfortable amount of humor that Will and Tony find in their job.  Sure, there are tense moments that feel just right, but it feels far too uncomfortable laughing at such a solemn responsibility.  There are some great appearances by people like Jena Malone, Steve Buscemi, and more.  Overall, The Messenger has its moments, but mostly is just another mediocre film about the Iraq war (and who needs another one of those?).

Bitchin' Stars: 2 out of 4 stars