First you should know that 1917 is the most
anxiety-producing film I’ve seen in a few years.
At least twice, I gasped out loud.
The tension was so thick that for the first
hour, my hand was literally on my heart.
In some scenes, I shut my eyes in anticipation
of the horror that would inevitably unfold.
In short, I was a mess.
But being a mess because a film is so
 devastating and powerful
is the best sort of mess there is.
In 1917, director and co-writer Sam Mendes,
co-writer Krysty Wilson-Cairns and
DOP Roger Deakins deliver a film that 
combines high impact with high artistry.
The film has been designed as a 
single continuous shot.
There are hidden cuts of course but like Alfred
Hitchcock’s Rope or Alejandro Iñárritu’s
more recent Birdman, 1917 aims to deliver
the experience of an uninterrupted take.
The set-up is simple – on April 6, 1917,
two young British soldiers must cross enemy
lines to deliver a critical message to British
troops who are on the other side.
They are given their mission in the first
few minutes of the film.
We then take the journey with them.
The single shot format puts us into their
shoes – we have no idea what’s coming next
and we are discovering the
 terrain as they are.
We don’t get the respite of a cut.
I will admit that mid-way, my nerves were
so frayed that I was grateful for the interval
that Indian theaters insist on.
It allowed me to reclaim my emotions a little.
Lance Corporal Blake, played by Dean-Charles
Chapman and Lance Corporal Schofield, played
by George MacKay have a youthful 
bravery that is heart-breaking.
They are basically children playing with death.
Bodies loom large in this film – men, rats,
dogs, cows.
In one scene, Schofield plunges his hand into
the open stomach of a corpse.
And yet, despite the omnipresent death and
destruction, 1917 feels throbbing and thrillingly alive.
The fluid cinematography, which moves from
ground level to a bird’s eye view, hurls
us into the center of the action.
The camera glides around the men and
 sometimes pivots to catch faraway action.
And we are right there with them, almost like
another character.
The production design by Dennis Gassner is
also meticulously detailed.
Mendes immerses us into the hell of war.
There is no escape from the misery and the
mud, the cold and the chaos.
But the realistic textures are offset by surreal
touches.
The No Man’s Land that these men
 cross seems like a vast wasteland.
In one sequence, the terrain is lit by yellow
phosphorescent haze, like a nether world.
It’s grand and tragically beautiful.
Thomas Newman’s sparingly used music heightens
the piercing sense of unfathomable loss.
The babyish, unlined faces of Chapman and
MacKay underline the absurdity of this particular
war and those yet to come.
These boys are unstintingly brave
 but their courage seems futile.
They are heroic but in this brutal and
 unforgiving battle, there are no heroes.
At its heart, 1917 is a portrait of the pointlessness
of war and therefore a plea for peace.
There will be times in the film when the craft
might distract you.
I found myself trying to catch the hidden
cuts – in a sequence in which Schofield
falls into a river, I was wondering how the
cameras were rigged.
But mostly 1917 is electrifying but also quietly
emotional.
If you’re watching just one film this week,
 make it this one.
