Read at Screenopolis: https://screenopolis.com/reviews/war-machine-burns-hot-goes-nowhere
War Machine is the latest Netflix movie glorifying American tough guys kickin’ ass. The plot is familiar: alien comes to earth, bad-ass soldiers are deployed, carnage ensues, tough-guy outsmarts the alien, ho-rah America!
War Machine has been compared a lot to Predator, not only because the plot is similar, but also because it features current Arnold Schwarzenegger-esque tough-guy Alan Ritchson in the lead role. You may remember this mountain of a human from Reacher on Amazon Prime or the zany The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare with Henry Cavill.
Ritchson plays tough-as-rocks engineer/soldier 81. He is a number, not a free man. Ritchson’s character never gets a name. He does not need one. It would only distract you from admiring his bottomless reservoir of pain and grit.
You see, 81 had a brother, played by Jai Courtney. His brother was nameless too, so we will call him Bro. 81 and Bro served in Afghanistan. Bro was cocky. He really wanted to be an Army Ranger with 81, who was weary from being so bad-ass. When Bro’s truck pooped out, 81 was deployed from the 101st Rudimentary Foreshadowing Brigade to lecture him on the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics and clean out his gunked-up radiator.
Then the bad guys bombed them. Bro and 81 are hurt. 81 pulls a massive chunk of metal from his knee, grabs his Bro, and tries to get back to base. Spoiler alert, they do not make it. Bro dead, 81 has hurty knee, cue the grit. So much grit.
Guilty from not saving his Bro, 81 signs up for Ranger tryouts, even though he is 20 years too old, badly injured, and has *gasp* facial hair! Pete Hegseth would shit his vodka-soaked pants if he saw this guy in formation.
After numerous skinny white kids get booted from tryouts, the commander, played by a finger-pointy Dennis Quaid, thinks 81 does not have what it takes to cross the finish line and be a Ranger. He thinks 81 is too bad-ass, and sensitive, and deep, and dreamy.
Rather than kick 81 out, they drop him in the forest with a pack of nobodies to prove his bad-assery. Finally, after all this setup, the alien shows up. The ass-kicking proper gets underway.
Now, here is the problem with this movie: who in the hell cares about Bro or the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics, or Ranger school, or finish lines, or any of the setup? I came here to watch explosions, not emotions and grit.
War Machine‘s lengthy setup is unnecessary and ham-fisted. Watch the first five minutes of Predator (split between these two videos below). Predator accomplishes in minutes (and better) what War Machine burns a half an hour to do (and much worse). It also has awesome theme music from Alan Silvestri.
In walks Arnold, he slaps arms with Dillon, fuck yeah! Let’s do this thing. That is all we need. Arnold is bad-ass, Dillion has a dangerous mission, blah blah blah, cue Long Tall Sally. We ain’t got time to emote. Predator does not waste one nanosecond being anything more than it was, a stupid action movie with paper-thin characters (some of whom are sexual tyrannosauruses). The result is a supremely satisfying movie filled with great one-liners.
War Machine desperately needs to stay in its lane. Nobody wants a meditation on the human condition with a stupid flick like War Machine. We want non-stop alien butt-kicking peppered with corny jokes and latent homosexuality.
Nevertheless, once the alien shows up in War Machine, the movie improves. The attacks are relentless, exhilarating, and bloody. The alien robot racks up an impressive body count in short order. It is pretty bad-ass, although not as bad-ass as 81, who is smart and has all those gigatons of grits. Remember that thermodynamics stuff with Bro? Yeah, that is how you kill an indestructible robot from another world. You shove rocks in its nose until it overheats. Boom.
The only way to enjoy this movie is to totally shut down every part of your critical thinking. If you stick to the spectacle, the movie is fine and enjoyable. If you spend any time thinking about this movie, it sucks rocks.
In addition to the terrible setup, this movie has a worthless cast. None of the supporting characters contribute anything of value. They are your standard-issue “military guys” and a lone bald-headed woman (who is mildly bad-ass until she’s not) direct from central casting. Even Jai Courtney’s role felt as limp and lifeless as his character’s body. Dennis Quaid phones in his role as gruff commander who must be within minutes of mandatory retirement age.
However, the most demoralizing part of this movie is the end – yeah I am going to spoil it. It is for your own good. After killing the unstoppable alien machine, 81 gets back to base. He is triumphantly promoted to Ranger. There is a lot of saluting, back slapping, and fist pumping with fluttering American flags. Woohoo!
Then they send the poor sap back out to fight. Congratulations 81 your reward for surviving is to go right back out and die. No rest. No shower. No plate of tater tots. Get to the chopper and fight the unstoppable killing robot – again. 81’s ending is meant to feel rousing and full of even more grit, but it only feels super depressing.
Aww.
If you can shut off your brain, you might like War Machine. I did enjoy the battle scenes with the alien. However, the movie tries too hard to be more than it is. It wants to go somewhere special but ends up going nowhere.Read at Screenopolis: https://screenopolis.com/reviews/war-machine-burns-hot-goes-nowhere
War Machine is the latest Netflix movie glorifying American tough guys kickin’ ass. The plot is familiar: alien comes to earth, bad-ass soldiers are deployed, carnage ensues, tough-guy outsmarts the alien, ho-rah America!
War Machine has been compared a lot to Predator, not only because the plot is similar, but also because it features current Arnold Schwarzenegger-esque tough-guy Alan Ritchson in the lead role. You may remember this mountain of a human from Reacher on Amazon Prime or the zany The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare with Henry Cavill.
Ritchson plays tough-as-rocks engineer/soldier 81. He is a number, not a free man. Ritchson’s character never gets a name. He does not need one.
