1917

Where a lot of other war films show great battles, impending doom, and the bigger picture; Sam Mendes zooms in on a singular and human story, telling a compelling and beautiful narrative through a seemingly singular shot.

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When mentioning the Great War, monumental battles come to mind, the idea of devastation and the decimation of human lives, being the last man standing in the fight of attrition and survival; yet carrying a message across no man's land is rarely the first thing to be called to the top of the surface. While we know that war isn't just a series of continuous explosion-filled fights, thanks to pop culture, that is the image we conjure up as we try to imagine what the world looked like back then. Yet 1917 tells a different story, one where we don't care really care about the bigger picture, a story where survival is the only thing that matters.

The film opens immediately on our pair of protagonists being told they need to pack their belongings (which essentially amounts to a notebook and whatever photos they have in their pockets) as they are about to be sent on an assignment. Lance Corporals Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman) and Schofield (George MacKay) are ordered to carry a message through enemy-filled territory that will stop 1,600 men from walking right into the hands of the Hun, one of them Blake's own brother.

The duo aren't ending the war nor are they going to somehow miraculously save the day and win the battle, their mission is to save lives, and Sam Mendes makes sure the film never forgets it. The plot revolves around the two and never shows us more than their perspectives; we know that the war is still waging on but to our main characters it doesn't matter, all that's important is delivering the message. Written by both Mendes and Krysty Wilson-Cairns, 1917's script is a powerhouse in storytelling as it pushes an emotional story through a minimal amount of dialogue while perfectly introducing us to characters, settings, and a world that is horrifying when remembering that it is grounded in history.

What allows the script so much freedom is the cinematography. By taking the opening of Spectre and turning it into a feature film, Mendes visually draws us into his world by literally putting us alongside the Lance Corporals, using hidden cuts and effects to imitate a single shot and make the film feel like everything is happening in real-time. With no apparent cuts, the visuals truly take us on a journey and allow for the performances to shine, as not only are we passively watching the characters but the audience is effectively turned into an active participant of each event. The only problem with the stylistic choice is that at moments it may seem unnatural; after decades of cinema, audiences may expect cuts and certain cinematographic techniques, but these moments are lost amongst the brilliance of the final product.

What does get lost across the film's hour and 59-minute runtime is the music, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Stunning visuals, a flowing script, and excellent performances in smaller roles from the likes of Benedict Cumberbatch, Mark Strong, Andrew Scott, and Richard Madden; yet the soundtrack never really takes centre stage. Instead of being bombastic and magnificent, the music plays a more invisible role, nudging emotions in the right direction instead of guiding. Nine times out of ten this would have detracted from the overall quality yet, considering there are so many powerful aspects all trying to work unanimously to tell a story, something needed to yield to support the others.

What truly hits home are the realities: the young faces that make up both sides of the war that will end all wars, the idea that a medal and ribbon justifies risking your life, and the looks of despair that are adorned at every corner. Everywhere you look, you can feel the weight of the world, the pressure every single character feels upon their shoulder's, the terror under the masks. The film is a continual build-up of tension that relies on no single aspect, but on every single performance, every whip of the camera, every morally-crushing note of the soundtrack. By the end of it all, you can't help but feel emotionally drained, a feeling that will undoubtedly mark 1917 as one of the best films of the year.