Review - 'Warrior'

When I scrolled through Netflix, and selected Gavin O'Connor's 'Warrior' to watch, I did so in the mindset that I was selecting a film that would contain some testosterone-fuelling and powerful fight scenes. I was aware it had got some critical acclaim and good reviews, but my thoughts were that this is a film where various men punch various other men.

And I was, to many extents, right. There is a lot of punching. However, I was not expecting to find the film to be as emotionally powerful as the physical power of every punch thrown. I was not expecting to  be both moved to tear and have my heart stop in suspense in a single scene. And I did not expect to feel both completely emotionally drained and unbelievably elated as I did when the credits started to role..

For those who don't know the film, it follows the lives of two estranged brothers, played by Joel Edgerton and Tom Hardy, the sons of a retired mixed martial arts fighter... a field they both display a lot of talent in. Both end up entering the Sparta tournament, the grand-prix of mixed martial arts with a five-million dollar prize. And both of them need to win. So what we have is not a sports film where the protagonist has to conquer his enemy; we have two heroes, and we want both of them to win.

However, this is not really a sports film, in the sense that it is not about sport. It is not about mixed martial arts; that is simply a device to tell the story. Like how musicals aren't about singing, that's just how they tell their narratives. And this, at its heart, is a film about family. It's about fixing a broken family, and it's about saving the family you have. And this is executed beautifully, up until the closing moments when the climactic fight scene brings everything to an exquisite resolution.

Director Gavin O'Connor handles this brilliantly. Working from a well formed script - only occasionally let down by slightly flat dialogue - he follows the emotional archs of each of his protagonists, and makes the most of their performances. And what performances they are, with both Edgerton and Hardy maintaining the drive and ambition that underpins each of those actions - a fact that is crucial, because without those objectives, no audience would become emotionally invested in such barbaric acts.

All this is not to distract from the fights themselves, which are perfected routines of choreography, executed with the skill you would expect from a professional ballet. And the camera work that accompanies it is perfect, with us there in the cage, feeling every punch, but throwing every one as well. More than once did I gasp when a punch landed, but just as much did I feel the power when one hit the opposition.

And as for the montage scene in the middle... montage scenes are often over-used, particularly in sports films. And, as a result, the emotional manipulation they often attempt can sometimes fall flat, simply because audiences are desensitised to the technique. However, O'Connor revamps it, with the editing design following Hardy and Edgerton's training being something extraordinary, leaving one pumped for the final act of the film, the tournament... as pumped as the fighters need to be.

In short, I never expected a film about mixed martial arts to move me quite so much. And I certainly couldn't have imagined that it would compete in my mental awards ceremony for Best Film. It is, quite simply, perfectly executed.

Coincidentally, I was Tom Hardy's body double for the film.

On The Killing Of Background Characters In Blockbuster Films

There is a sociopathic, senseless massacre that takes place very regularly, and one that the general population readily remains in compliance with. More worryingly, it is broadcast to anyone and everyone on cinema screens and through the gleaming window of television. This tolerated form of snuff is even openly viewed by young and impressionable children.

I am talking about the tragic deaths that befall the many background characters in popular films.

This consideration flitted through my head earlier today as I was watching The Return Of The Jedi (undeniably the best of the Star Wars saga). In the third act of the narrative, a large battle takes place on the forest moon of Endor; however, this battle is throughout treated incredibly jovially, due to the cute facade of the Ewoks, distracting the viewers attention.

Distracting them from the fact that they are, undeniably, ruthless killers.

Consider. Only moments after meeting the first Ewok, we see him assist in the bludgeoning of one Stormtrooper, and the explosion of another. Later, in the battle scene, the Ewoks use a large variety of primal and savage tools to brings about the demise of the Empirical forces. All actions the audience condones, chuckling along, going, 'Oh, look at them - they're cute but they have so much pluck. Bless 'em.'

One reason this is permitted is the way blockbusters treat these background characters. These characters are all uniform, formless, anonymous. They're not really being killed to the audience. It's more like snipping a single blade of grass; you don't notice it amongst a field. Star Wars does this incredibly literally. Every Stormtrooper is nigh on identical, just white, well-built, androgenous humanoid figures. However, contrary to some incredibly naive opinions, they are not robots. There are people of flesh and blood to be found under the armour... real people. People that may, in all likelihood, have families waiting for them at home. And yet that thought does not cross an audience's mind when the bring down  their transport in a ball of flame.

Just think. For that Stormtrooper, there is a family at home, sitting at the dinner table. Little Stormtrooper Jr saying 'Daddy, where's Mummy*?' And Daddy Stormtrooper, trying to stop the tears from rolling down his visor, struggling to explain what has happened.

Just think.

And what message does this send to our youngsters? That anyone not actively concerned in the main narrative of your life is expendable cannon fodder? Or, more worryingly, that if you are currently in a position of menial grunt work, that you could be taken out at a moments notice - regardless of whether or not you work for a vast criminal enterprise bent on world domination?

And that is another point worth addressing. A casual defence for the deaths of these characters is that they are in the employ of the 'bad guys' - or, at the very least, compliant with their actions. However, working for a company that has hidden, evil motifs does not immediately make a person, or even their job description, evil within itself. 'Hi, I'm Will, a regular guy who likes football and a nice Ceasar salad. I do work a dark, shady organisation, yes, but only in Human Resources. Puts bread on the table, doesn't it?'

Many would say that these deaths are acceptable. They are fictional creations, and more importantly, fictional creations that are solely there to be dispensible. They do not have the emotional resonances we find in leading characters. Well, firstly, I am wonderfully supportive of the notion that any work of narrative is in itself its own world - and with that goes the notion that each part of that world is integral to its creation. Through art we see new worlds; we shouldn't be willing to throw parts of those worlds aside.

But for those of you who don't conced to such pompous, hoity-toity notions, consider this. What about everyone you walked past on the street today - the 'background characters' of your life? The ones you don't have emotional resonances with? I presume that if one of them keeled over before you - or was slain by a group of marauding Ewoks - then it would affect you in some sort of way? You wouldn't let that slip. You wouldn't let that slide if it was broadcast to chuckling audiences.

Everyone has rights, including the background characters.




*Yes, I know you assumed they were all male. Although, technically, they are, because in the narrative they were all cloned from Jango Fett, but I still felt it necessary to challenge the assumptions of gender norms.