So 1917 is out, and it's something that's intrigued me for a while, because I really like Sam Mendes as a director, whether he's delivering caustically funny insights on suburbia in American Beauty, a sobering take on the life of a gangster in Road to Perdition or a total reinvigoration of Bond in Skyfall, or even in Spectre, which, and I know it's not the popular opinion, I really enjoyed, and love the opening long-shot, which isn't surprising because I'm a fan of them, and love when a continuous shot can continue to tell a story without cuts and totally amplify the sense of immersion, and that's relevant to 1917, because there's been a lot of hype for a while about this film being in one long take, or two long takes, and completely telling this story- about two young soldiers (played by George MacKay and Dean-Charles Chapman) in the First World War, desperately running across no-man's land to deliver a message to call off an attack and save sixteen hundred soldiers, including the brother of Chapman's Blake- in one continuous, real-time shot was a bold, interesting move, one that, if done well, would undoubtedly be a technical marvel, and between Mendes' capability as a director and the god-amongst-cameramen that is Roger Deakins, it definitely seemed plausible, but of course, it's difficult to do something in one go, and the thing about 1917 is that it's not one single shot, and because Mendes didn't do it in one, I won't either.
This film could have been an impressive but empty technical exercise, but it's to the credit of Mendes, Deakins and the gang that it really, really isn't. 1917 is pure immersive cinema, bringing history to life in a way that's full-blooded and intricate by replacing fussy details or heavy contextual exposition with a lifespan shortening recreation of the experience of the First World War. If I'm being honest, this is an issue I had with Dunkirk, which played its timeline shenanigans in such a smug, overly clever way that just completely took me out of the whole thing. Nolan's film is undoubtedly impressive, but it lacks that immersion factor, with every moment of genuine engagement spoiled with a timeline hop, cutting to an out-of-sequence moment of action that breaks up the relentless pace that a story like that should have. 1917 rejects this from the start, immediately placing us in the boots of George MacKay's Schofield. The whole faux two-shots thing isn't just technical flashiness; you're with Schofield every moment he's conscious, not watching his experience of the war from a distance so much as pushing through it alongside him in palpable terror. If that flashy, technically flawless duo of "long-shots" may seem overly smart of artsy, Mendes is sure to ratchet up the tension enough to fully justify their use, from the terrified plains of no-man's-land to the horrifying discoveries in an underground bunker and everything that follows (which won't be spoiled here)
Mendes forgoes an abundance of dialogue, proving that sometimes action does speak louder than words, but amid the spectacle is a genuine, historically rooted horror, something that drives the film. True, the race-against-time plot is compelling and tense and absolutely thrilling, but what makes 1917 work is its immediate grounding in the annals of history, placing itself firmly in the pantheon of WW1 cinema alongside some of the very best, even if it lacks the meaty subtext of something like Paths of Glory. Plot isn't this film's top priority, but that's hardly an issue. One slight problem comes in the form of the famous faces that litter the battlefield, so deliberately spaced out that they feel almost obligatory after a while; feeling required where they should feel earned. Don't get me wrong, they're stellar, especially Andrew Scott's world weary lieutenant and Richard Madden's spoilerific soldier, but the distribution of their appearances feels almost like a distraction at times, breaking up the otherwise flowing thrills of the film. It's the one fly in the ointment here, the one issue with and otherwise utterly fabulous piece of work
Sam Mendes has created a true war epic with 1917, fullblooded and visceral and technically peerless. Any worry that this is a pure technical exercise is quickly dispelled by the fact that he so evidently cares about the story that's unfolding. It isn't "the one-shot film", because apart from not actually being one shot (something that doesn't affect the experience at all), it makes that a crucial part of the film's style, central to making it work as well as it does. This something only confirmed on a rewatch, where it becomes obvious that the beating heart of Mendes' film is its sense of real-time, that utter immersion that completely confirms cinema's ability to bring history to life. If it lacks nuance or subtext, then that's okay because that's not what it's doing. It is an in the moment experience, a fleshed out snapshot of the First World War that rejects distance or objectivity, using its technical panache to emphasise rather than distract. 1917 is, to use an annoying expression, pure cinema, every aspect of the production working in tandem to create blissful, technically flawless, heart-stoppingly emotional, utterly stunning spectacle that reminds us why we tell these stories in the first place. It is bracing, thrilling cinema that immortalises the stories we don't know about the events we do. It's a war epic that's not likely to be forgotten anytime soon
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