“1917” is a work of cinematic wizardry

By N.B.

HALFWAY THROUGH “1917”, the film’s heroes are knocked unconscious and the screen goes black, but that is the only moment, it seems, when the camera stops rolling. Otherwise, Sir Sam Mendes’s first-world-war drama appears to consist of one long, continuous, two-hour take, all shot by a single roving camera.

Sir Sam is cheating, of course—there are numerous cuts which have been cleverly hidden with digital effects. But “1917” joins “Rope”, “Russian Ark”, “Victoria”, “Son of Saul” and the Oscar-winning “Birdman” in the canon of films with almost no discernible editing. Its director of photography, Roger Deakins, has won one Oscar for his cinematography and has been nominated for 13 more. When Academy voters see his latest display of technical wizardry, that number should rise to 14.

The heroes are two young English soldiers (George MacKay and Dean-Charles Chapman). First seen napping in a French meadow, they are summoned to meet a gruff general (Colin Firth); he tells them that a battalion a few miles away is about to advance on the Germans, but an aerial photograph has revealed that they are heading into a trap. As the Brits’ telegraph wires have been cut, the only way to prevent the slaughter of 1,600 men is to deliver a letter to the division’s commanding officer (Benedict Cumberbatch).

Why the general entrusts such a vital mission to only two soldiers is never explained, but the task is essentially a pretext to get them out of the trenches and into danger. First they have to cross the mud and tangled barbed wire of no man’s land. Then there is a tunnel system which collapses around them. Then there is an abandoned farmhouse, then a fast-flowing river—and so on.

One strange paradox is that, despite having so few noticeable edits, “1917” does not seem to have a continuous narrative, but a series of separate sections. It is impressive that Sir Sam has packed so many distinct locations and tones into a film with such a restricted time-frame, but it never feels as if the soldiers are real people enduring the exhausting slog and stress of a real journey. Instead it seems as if they are video-game characters, completing one well-designed level before moving onto the next.

Sir Sam is known for directing “American Beauty” and the last two James Bond movies, but not for gritty naturalism or political heft—qualities that “1917” lacks. The set-pieces are oddly old-fashioned, rife as they are with Germans who are conveniently bad shots, and with daredevil stunts straight out of an “Indiana Jones” blockbuster. The imagery is often more beautiful than ghastly: in one ruined town, the dancing shadows resemble the sort of son et lumière show at which you might have gasped at a French chateau on holiday.

The acting and dialogue, too, are no more than functional. This is the first film that Sir Sam has co-written as well as directed, and his “Boy’s Own” adventure doesn’t say anything about the first world war which wasn’t said by “Private Peaceful”, which co-starred Mr MacKay, or “War Horse”, which co-starred Mr Cumberbatch, let alone “Blackadder Goes Forth” and any number of war comics.

For all the grisly corpses strewn throughout the film—human, equine and canine—“1917” offers an outdated and idealistic ode to the Great War as a simple conflict between good and evil. The Jerries are sneaky, the French Mademoiselles are lovely, the working-class Tommies are doughty and even the stiff-upper-lipped top brass do what’s best for everyone. Sir Sam has certainly pulled off an extraordinary feat of choreography, but the viewer’s doubts about his shallow film could well echo their doubts about the war itself: all that effort and expense—and for what?

“1917” was released in America on December 25th 2019. It is released in Britain on January 10th