War movies are rarely at the top of my “to-watch” list. I loved Dunkirk, but I struggle to think of another film about war that I’d include in a list of my favorites. Yes, these films capture real experiences that have changed thousands of lives, but I don’t love immersing myself in the horror of war and calling it entertainment. As a result, I almost skipped 1917–but I’m glad I didn’t.
Discussions about 1917 have centered on the “one-shot” cinematography, with some hailing it as the greatest technical achievement of the year and others deriding it as a gimmick that attempts to mask the film’s other weaknesses. I fall squarely in the former camp. Many modern action films are dominated by quick cuts and dozens of sliced-together angles, so it’s refreshing to be able to follow the characters so clearly and to be so fully immersed in each scene that it feels like we’re living it. Roger Deakins always produces glorious images, even when the story he’s capturing is subpar, but his work here is stellar. The stunning images of Schofield running through the burning village of Écoust, lit only by the flames and the flare of falling bombs, feel like they were crafted by a magician. I don’t fully understand how the production team was able to create these incredible long takes–and I refuse to watch any behind-the-scenes documentaries that will reveal the mechanism behind the magic.
Setting aside the technical achievement and the immense work that must have gone into choreographing each shot, the one-take style beautifully supports the story Sam Mendes is telling. It allows us to experience the world of the film from the main characters’ perspective: we only get to see what they see, as if we were reading a book written from a first-person point of view. With them, we wonder what lies over the next hill, if the brother we’re searching for is still alive, if the enemy has already won and we just haven’t heard. It’s a uniquely isolating and often overwhelming view of war, never relieved by another storyline or even another angle of the events taking place. We can’t escape the horrors right in front of us, no matter how much we may wish to.
As it shows us the misery of World War I, 1917 is more interested in the experience and emotions of its characters than in the military tactics of the opposing sides. It captures the hopelessness of soldiers unsure if their actions will make any difference in the larger war, the numb despair that sets in after watching countless comrades die before their eyes, the inability to escape from the destruction that has ravaged every inch of the countryside. And, most importantly, it helps us see the courage and perseverance of the young soldiers at the center of the film. Under great pressure, facing a seemingly insurmountable task, confronted with the fallibility of their leaders, and growing in their understanding of the enemy’s ability, they refuse to turn back. When Blake dies, it would have been easy for Schofield to abandon the mission he’d never wanted to undertake, that had nearly killed him already. But instead he plunges on, accepting help when he can and bravely walking forward alone when he must. Though his mission is often solitary, Schofield is always propelled forward by his commitments to others–to Blake’s brother and to the family at home for whom he must survive. He looks outward, rather than focusing on his own suffering, and finds the strength to keep pressing forward.
Exhausted, wounded, wet, hungry, and nearly at the end of his strength, Schofield finally stumbles into what seems like heaven. He hears an old folk song echoing through the trees, well-worn lyrics that could have been written to describe his own experience: “I’m just a poor, wayfaring stranger traveling through this world of woe.” For the first time, though, the song helps us see beyond the misery of Schofield’s journey to the goal that drives him: “There is no sickness, toil, nor danger in that bright land to which I go. I’m going there to see my father, and all my loved ones who’ve gone on. I’m only going over Jordan, I’m only going over home.” In the midst of danger, pain, and loss, these words give us a glimpse of the beauty and rest that await. And finally, after accomplishing his mission and finding Blake’s brother to give him what comfort he can from his own broken heart, Schofield gets to experience that rest for a moment. In a moment that poignantly echoes the opening shot of the film, he leans back against a broad tree trunk to look at the photo of his family that he’s carried safely through danger. He’s not home yet, but he has accomplished his mission and come one step closer to seeing them again.