1917

Yea, Tho I Walk and Talk Through The Valley of the Shadow...
or
Last Man Standing, Notwithstanding.

One shot. 

That's the strongest take-away from Sam Mendes' 1917, based on stories told to him by his grandfather, and which Mendes adapted, along with Krysty Wilson-Cairns, to make an extremely inclusive World War I film, with that one difference—make it appear as one continuous "take," seemingly without edits.

Mendes had experimented doing this with the first sequence of his previous film, SPECTRE—part of the James Bond franchise—a four minute seamless tracking shot during the "Day of the Dead" celebration in Mexico City as Daniel Craig's Bond "makes" his target, goes up to a hotel room balcony and then saunters along the rooftops to a sniper position to take the terrorist out.

It's not continuous, though. There are moments where the camera "settles" for a split-second on something—free of human beings and any sky shots with moving clouds, something inanimate and stationary—where invisible wipe-edits can be made to complete the illusion of continuity. But, in 1917, that tack continues for the entire run of the movie (with one exception, where a soldier is knocked unconscious by a bullet to his helmet), which is some two hours.* 

This is not unique—Hitchcock did it in 1948 with his experimental Rope, essentially a play without the proscenium arch and the audience on stage with the actors, doing 10 minute continuous shots (which was the length of a film reel) until he could focus on somebody's back for the reel-change—and has been done more frequently of late thanks to digital photography (think of Birdman, Gravity, there's a list of them on Wikipedia now). The effect has been used to create tension—when is the scene going to "break"?—ala Orson Welles' long opening to Touch of Evil. And World War I is ideally suited to this conceit, given its emphasis on trench-warfare, where the viewer is hemmed in by the narrowness of the space, used to very good advantage in tracking shots by Stanley Kubrick in Paths of Glory and emulated here by Mendes.

The film begins—as it ends (no real spoiler alert necessary)—with a soldier relaxing under a tree; Lance Corporal Schofield (George McKay) is soon told to get up by Lance Corporal Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman)—there's a mission  that he's been called to carry out and he's chosen Schofield to accompany him. What's the mission? No idea, he's on his way to the bunker of General Erinmore (Colin Firth) to hear what it is. The two slop to the make-shift HQ and given the task—word is that the Germans have not retreated, as has been the thought, but diverted to the newly-formed Hindenburg line where that entrenched position will allow them to decimate the Devonshire regiment who have been planning an attack that will place them right in the path of the German artillery there. Phone lines and communication are down, so the two men must hand deliver a message to call off the attack scheduled for dawn the next day lest the 1600 men be wiped out, including Blake's older brother who is stationed there. 

Time is limited. The two have to leave the trenches, weave their way through No-Man's-Land, pick their way past the German trenches, evade whatever sparse troops might be there on the way—IF they have, indeed, moved—make it to the city of Écoust, follow the river nearby and get to the Devonshires before the attack can happen. In other words, they have to go through enemy territory and any stray threats there to hand deliver written words that, they are warned before heading "over the top" by an embittered Lieutenant Leslie (Andrew Scott, always welcome) that the orders might not be believed, anyway.

The Devil of the trip is in the details and they come in the form of booby-traps, rats, blasted out landscapes, snipers, armed aerial reconnaissance and the general fog of war. Mendes' usual one-point perspectives keep a viewer focused on what's up-front, but the ever-moving camera has you exploring the edges of the frame, looking for hidden dangers that just might be slipping into view. 

The focus is constantly changing, although still hampered by the camera frame, giving one a 90° vantage of what is surrounding Blake and Schofield, immersing the audience in the step-by-step journey while also limiting the field of view. Yes, it "puts you there" but it is also frustrating that your vantage is from a letter-box.  At times, it has the feel of a FPS video-game (without the woozy headaches), but even then, you're controlling where the field of view looks. In this, you're just a prisoner.

Thank God, though, that the fellow who is controlling the view is Roger Deakins, one of those masters of light, a cinematographer who can make anything, even a pristine field, look magical. Technologically, the film must have seemed daunting—not just in the one-shot fluidity—but also in the various lighting situations—by candle, flash, flare, or flame—that Deakins has been honing over the last couple decades of working with demanding directors who were seeing the world a little differently from others and has managed to pull miracles out of the lenses he's been peering through. It's another wonderful example of Deakins excelling in an already crowded field of filming magicians who have moved the bar—or the f-stop—on what can be filmed, let alone imagined.

As beautiful as it is, though, one wishes there was more to it than that. For Mendes, of course, it's a personal tribute and a sentimental journey, a technical challenge well met, and impeccably done. At the end, however, one just feels a bit empty. Perhaps, that is as it should be, given that war, given that carnage, given its lasting effects on a generation—the "lost" generation, as it has become known in artistic circles. It is a story well-told, but not much of a story, as personally heroic as it might be. The monstrosity of that war and its futility has been better recounted for as long as there's been film...or near about's. Certainly as long as films have been giving out awards to itself.

It just pales in comparison to other WWI films, its technical prowess notwithstanding. And when one places it in comparison with...oh, let's say, They Shall Not Grow Old, which is also personal—interviews are with veterans, while memories are still green—and technically stunning—original Imperial War Museum footage, spit-and-polished up, sound-enhanced, digitized and colorized so as to seem new, not 100 years old, the effect historically, emotionally, viscerally is far more than 1917 can achieve. Yes, bravo for making it, but points off for making it an exercise rather than an experience.

* Slight time-error here: the mission is supposed to take six hours, so unless the soldier knicked is out for four hours this is some inevitable time-compression to allow for multiple showings at the cineplex—and that's assuming the time-estimate is based on the assumption of one or both of the soldiers being unconscious for four hours!