Don’t let the trailer’s bombast fool you, folks. Civil War, despite the name, is less Saving Private Ryan and more a moody character study set against the backdrop of a generic civil war. The conflict itself is window dressing – we don’t address the cause of the conflict, nor how American culture and geography shapes the war – the real story unfolds amidst the emotional shrapnel.
Forget grand narratives, philosophical pronouncements, or characters who’ll haunt your dreams. Civil War, with its hefty $50 million price tag, is a love letter – albeit a slightly muddled one – to war correspondents, particularly the photojournalist breed. More Hollywood masturbation about how their cameras can save the world.
We follow Lee (Kirsten Dunst), a seasoned reporter battling a severe case of burnout. The war’s relentless misery has chipped away at her idealistic dream of using photographs to end conflict. By film’s end, Lee’s more of a wreck than a crusader, but hey, at least she inspires the next generation to face the same existential dread with a camera in hand! It’s a cycle, alright – one light on heroism and heavy on dodging bullets with nothing but good intentions and some fancy equipment.
The film avoids picking sides, aiming for a war-is-hell neutrality. The trouble is, this noble pursuit leaves viewers with no clear favourites. The cast is amiable enough, with Wagner Moura’s adrenaline-junkie journo Joel providing a much-needed dose of charisma. The rest? Just along for the ride, which – to be blunt – feels a bit aimless. Their grand mission – snagging an interview with the President – has about the same odds of success as a quokka outrunning a kangaroo.
The film tries to yank at the heartstrings, contrasting Lee’s jaded cynicism with the wide-eyed optimism of Cailee Spaeny’s aspiring photographer. But the emotional connection falls flat. Frankly, their entire mission feels inconsequential, which is a problem when it’s the very engine driving the narrative.