‘Dunkirk’ – Distilled

A technical tour de force but an artistic failure, ‘Dunkirk’ contrives to combine cheesy dialogue and cardboard characterisation with the terror and immediacy of war and violence. You are in the cockpit of a stricken Spitfire as it swerves towards the grey greasy  Channel and ditches; trapped in the cockpit, you struggle for breath as its sinking pilot bangs frantically on the glass above him, fighting to get out as the water rises. Or you are in the bowels of a bombed or torpedoed ship, as exhausted soldiers fight their way towards the exits. The story follows three narratives, telling this most dramatic of tales from land, sea and air – a narrative device that works effectively, switching constantly from one perspective to the other, showing how all three elements interleave in this critical moment. But the ‘moment’ itself is presented in virtual isolation and in one dimension: the collapse of France, Nazi Germany triumphant, England alone and on her knees, are barely suggested. From the point of view of the combatants and survivors, one accepts, it is the immediacy of the present, and present survival that matters, but the wider consequence is a film that has neither a deeper sense of tragedy and salvation, nor a real humanity. Ultimately, alas, ‘Dunkirk’ is simply war as spectacle.

Director: Christopher Nolan

Verdict: Seeing is not always believing. But see it anyway.

Your tipple of choice? Rum, of course – for the Navy