Starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Jamie Foxx
Directed by Sam Mendes
The film's mantra is the sniper's creed, often repeated: "This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I master my life. My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than any enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me."
This is something of an oddity, for a few reasons. For one thing, it's a Sam Mendes film - one of only three (*) - which is half way decent. It is also a War film - or was at least presented as such - in which there is little to no actual fighting, although this is the point. And it's a "war film" which takes no moral standpoint on the rights and / or wrongs of this particular conflict. As one character says, "F*** politics. We're here. All the rest is bullsh*t"
The film, adapted by William Broyles Jr (Apollo 13, Flags of Our Fathers) from the memoir of the same name, tells the story of US Marine sniper Anthony "Swoff" Swofford; of his early time in the Corps through to deployment in Saudi Arabia in August 1990 as part of Operation Desert Shield, in preparation for the invasion of Kuwait to expel the occupying Iraqi troops. US led Coalition forces built up to great numbers, but had to wait for the Diplomats to do their thing before they could mobilise. For 175 days they could do nothing but kick their heels, practicing various drills, notably the NBC (Nuclear Biological and Chemical) protocol, and acclimitising to the harsh desert conditions. News crews visit to interview the somewhat embarrassed troops, who at one point turn a game of American Football played in NBC suits in 100+ degree heat into a rowdy brawl, for which they are later punished. But boredom quickly sets in and takes over. The Jarhead of the title refers to the haircut given to new recruits - number one around the sides and back with hair on top. But it also emerges as a derogatory term - being "just a Jarhead" implies a lower grunt like status, unlike the elite, veteran fighters.
The film is by its very nature episodic and anecdotal. There is no driving narrative beyond that of a group of soldiers sequestered in camp waiting for the big push. There are the expected tropes of this kind of story; "dear John" letters from wives and girlfriends back home who are sick of their partners' absence, writing to break up and say they have found someone else. Obviously this is a significant dampener on the Marine's already battered morale. And these young men are merciless, if not malicious, in the way they treat their afflicted colleagues. Letters are pinned up on a wall of shame. A videotape of one man's wife having sex with another is screened for all, and the reaction is raucous and celebratory, schadenfreude in the extreme. Seemingly most men are just relieved and glad it's not their own wife or girlfriend on show, for the time being. They are also, frankly, pretty vulgar; one can re-imagine this is a College based frat house. But they repeatedly come back to stressing how much they "love the Corps".
Amidst all of the harsh barbarity, two relationships stand out. Alan Troy (Peter Sarsgaard) is Swoff's "spotter". Snipers work in teams of two, one man to fire the shots and one to survey the target and give corrections where needed. Troy is older, wiser, and more experienced, acting as something of a friend, although not, we discover, without his flaws, which will lead to trouble after the war. More interesting is his bond with Staff Sergeant Sykes (the excellent Jamie Foxx), who is part charismatic, part enigmatic, part disciplinarian. Sykes rides Swofford hard, at one point hilariously inviting him to bugle tryouts, even though Swoff has no bugle, purely to humiliate him in front of his comrades. Once in the field, Sykes becomes something of a father figure, both mentoring and chastising as appropriate. Sykes is a "lifer", and as the film ends and the soldiers return to civilian life, Sykes is shown serving in Operation Iraqi Freedom, the mop up after Desert Storm. Of less significance are the friendships with other marines in the unit. Kruger (Lucas Black, of Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift fame, amongst others) is a gung ho individual who only joined up to avoid a prison sentence. He remarks at one point as they wait that if he had gone to prison, this would have been the day he got out. Fergus O'Donnell (Brian Geraghty) is perceived as weaker, and looked down upon. During a Christmas party, Swoff, who is meant to be on watch, gets Fergus to cover for him. Fergus accidentally sets fire to a tent and a crate of flares; chaos ensues, and Swofford is demoted from Lance Corporal (E-3) to Private (E-1). Later,with the pressure mounting, Swofford snaps and goes crazy at Fergus, sticking a loaded rifle in his mouth, threatening to kill him. This doesn't go down too well with Troy or Sykes, who do their best to calm him.
With a campaign of airstrikes already fully underway, finally, it's time to advance through the desert. The marines experience a "blue on blue" friendly fire incident, when US jets mistake them for retreating Iraqi troops. Suddenly boredom is replaced by terror. There are no signs of the enemy, but the road is littered with burnt out cars filled with the grotesquely charred bodies of civilians, desperately trying to escape the bombs. For the most part the troops are dispassionate, although some are visibly affected. Mendes lets his camera drift over the carnage, inviting the viewer to react as they will, disgust or indifference. The Marines discover a field of burning oil wells, at first just a distant glow on the horizon, but as they advance and try to dig in for the night the oil falls from the sky, a black rain. Frustration returns, as the soldiers are technically at war, but there is no one to fight. Eventually Swofford and Troy are given a combat mission, to which they react with a strange euphoria. They are tasked to advance to a bomb-damaged airport to take out two Iraqi officers. Taking up position in a derelict building across from the control tower, they are all set to take the shot; finally to fire a weapon in anger. Swoff even has one of the targets perfectly in his sights, when they are interrupted by another team. They are desperate to complete the mission, but the commander of the other unit (Dennis Haysbert) orders them to stand down, as he calls in an airstrike to obliterate the building. The pair plead with him to allow them to take the shot, but they are overruled. In a fit of desperation, anger and frustation, Troy snaps and breaks down. This was the one chance they had of actually being part of the war, and it is denied them.
Missing their pickup, Troy and Swoff attempt to navigate the night-time desert, becoming utterly lost, until the sound of distant voices reveals that they have stumbled upon their base camps. The marines there are ecstatic; the war is over. Partying is in full swing. Not having had a chance to fire his weapon in combat, Swofford joins the others in wildly discharging shots into the air, finally getting the chance to use his rifle. There is some debate amongst veterans as to whether this indiscipline would really have happened, but the effect on the soldiers and the viewer is exhilarating and cathartic. There is a certain melancholy and disappointment at the Saddam proclaimed "Mother of all wars" lasting only four days, essentially a nothing conflict, but meaning everything to these men. But there is also relief and happiness that home is beckoning. Just because the war was almost nonexistent, it doesn't detract from the film's power. It's not about nothing, it's about a range of human emotions brought about by the expectations of impending battle. It recalls and depicts something common to all such situations, from waiting in the the First World War trenches for the whistle to blow, or waiting for the weather to clear so D-Day can begin, but something rarely if ever focused on in cinema. It is rare but strikingly memorable.
As the bullets and flares light up the pitch black night sky, we find ourselves back home, in the middle of a victory parade. They are joined by a semi-deranged former marine, presumably a Vietnam veteran. All wars are the same. There follows a montage which shows what happens next. Families are reunited, soldiers go back to civilian life, spending time with women in bars, tending to their children, stacking shelves in the local convenience store, and even giving presentations in a corporate boardroom. Fergus visits Swofford at home, and informs him that Troy is dead. It's implied, but not made explicit, that he killed himself, presumably because his pre-war misdemeanours had caught up with him. At the funeral, former colleagues are briefly reunited. The film is not intrusive, even at this point, simply matter of fact. In a state of blankness and melancholy Swofford reflects on his experiences, and the effect of the blink-and-you'll-miss-it war. He concludes. in voiceover: "A story. A man fires his rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterwards he comes home, and he sees that whatever else he may do with his life - build a hour, love a woman, change his son's diaper - he will always remain a jarhead. And all the jarheads killing and dying, they will always be me. We are still in the desert."
Technically the film is predictably top notch. Shot by long term Coen brothers collaborator Roger Deakins, a man who had to wait an unreasonably length of time before finally winning an Oscar (for Blade Runner 2049), it looks beautiful and stunning, from the blinding, bleached white scenes of the blisteringly hot desert to the haunting, eerie shots of the soldiers silhouetted against the blazing oil well fires set by the retreating Iraqi troops. Mendes' regular composer Thomas Newman turns in another effective and subtle score. His music has been heard in films as diverse as The Shawshank Redemption, The Player, Bridge of Spies and Spectre, but whatever the genre, his favoured chord progressions always mark the score out as his, and here it's successfully unobtrusive. Broyles' screenplay is pithy and sharp, with many a crackling one-liner to be found. Jarhead is an interesting, bordering on great film. It's largely about boredom, but never boring. At its centre is a regular young man finding himself in a surreal, abrasive situation, but he is rendered sympathetic, a proxy by which the audience can experience the downs and ups of this war. The other grunts, whilst often behaving crassly, are not judged harshly. The First Gulf war, as it has become known (conveniently overlooking the devaststing 8 year Iran-Iraq war which preceded it), was one of the first played out on television, so many will have an idea of what it was like, judged from the comfort of their living rooms. This film shows a different side to it, and is much more evocative of a true picture. A fine achievement.
"Welcome to the suck".
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