The psychology of war

Rating: 10/10 (8 March 2010)

"The rush of battle is often a potent and lethal addiction, for war is a drug. " - Chris Hedges
The Hurt Locker can be easily summed up in it's opening line, a line that is not spoken, but written. Such a quote cuts to the core of the film, a film that is often not spoken, but shown. It is a tense, exhilarating, heartbreaking, and relentlessly suspenseful film that is not about a war, but the people fighting it. People who are not action heroes, but who devote all of their being to doing their job, one of the most dangerous jobs imaginable. Why would anyone want to disarm deadly explosives in the middle of the Iraqi desert? The Hurt Locker gives us not easy or reassuring explanations, but thoughtful insight and complex psychology.
Kathryn Bigelow's film explores not only the nuts and bolts of what it takes to do this job, but also how human beings relate and interact with one another during times of unimaginable danger and crisis. Jeremy Renner is stunningly effective as Staff Sgt. William James, a man who is, in his own way, addicted to war. His work is done with the attention and precision of a surgeon, contrasting strongly with his cocky, bold demeanor. We see moments of his fearlessness, almost to the point of self destruction, and other moments of sheer vulnerability and tenderness, for his family and for his fellow soldiers.
Kathryn Bigelow is a filmmaker at her very best here. She gives us the relentless adrenaline that should be demanded of this subject matter, but she also gives us the periods of stillness. War is not made up entirely of explosions and car chases, and neither is this film. War is also waiting, war is also agonizing silence. A film about war does not need to be a film about politics. The Hurt Locker mercifully avoids taking any kind of political stance, and also avoids elevating these characters to the level of saints or martyrs. These characters are not perfect, they are not as stoic or unaffected as they behave, they make foolish decisions, they have weaknesses and they have flaws. The film does not make pronouncements or attempt to address the "larger issue" of the Iraq war, or even war in general. There is no reason it should. It does not preach, but it shows and it observes.
In terms of the basic tenants of film-making, The Hurt Locker succeeds on every level. It is written is such a way that it not seem to be written at all. It is acted in a way that does does not seem like acting, and it is filmed in a way that does not seem like a movie. Jeremy Renner and every one of his fellow actors are not reciting lines, they simply become these people. The way these characters speak transfers effortlessly from moments of affectionate banter, to strained urgency and panic, to a few moving monologues that are not done for dramatic effect, but give us a glimpse into the lives and hearts of these men. The cinematography is daringly raw and unpolished, with exquisite moments of strategically placed slow motion, emphasizing the characters heightened senses, whether at the moment of an explosion, or during an endless period of waiting. Kathryn Bigelow's direction spares us what could have been an overwrought genre exercise. This movie is allowed to breathe and function on its own, without the looming shadow of an overbearing director.
The Hurt Locker is not a film for everyone. It demands a great deal from the viewer, it does not let up or ease off, it does not look away. It drops us in a place that almost none of us would want to be, and shows us things that we do not want to see. It is impeccably acted, beautifully filmed, and masterfully directed with compassion and humanity. A movie like this does not come around often. Every moment watching it is spent spellbound, in awe, in terror. A film that is the very definition of greatness.