(***1/2)
Remorse has no expiration date.
That’s why Marine Second Lieutenant Lou D’Alessandro (Boyd Holbrook) can’t get past a moment frozen in his head. Inner torment haunts him and shadows every move. Every thought. That sorrow is the emotional core of screenwriter/director Reed Van Dyk’s poignant screenplay. His script is based on journalist Dexter Filkins’ 2012 New Yorker article about a Marine haunted by a deadly encounter with an Iraqi family. Filkins, a war correspondent, became the real-life liaison between that broken man seeking forgiveness and the family seeking answers.
Kenneth Branagh plays Michael Reid, the New Yorker reporter who becomes the bridge between the Marine and the family. Hiam Abbass (Palestine ’36) portrays Mariam, the family matriarch, holder of its grace and dignity. Van Dyk marks his feature film debut with the wisdom and restraint of a veteran filmmaker, choosing realism over melodrama.
Jon Peter’s cinematography, Erin Magill’s production design and costumes by Annell Brodeur and Zeina Soufan vividly distinguish the film’s shifting locations and periods. Van Dyk weaves jubilant family gatherings, brutal war violence, revealing therapy sessions, bursts of anger, tears and fear into the fabric of each scene. It’s hard to stay detached from what’s on view, from who’s suffering and who holds the key to redemption. All of it leads back to a fated day.
During the early days of the 2003 Iraq War, a platoon of Marines returns enemy fire from a rooftop in Baghdad. Buzzing streets go from full to empty in seconds. Bullets blaze through the air. All are jumpy. Then, inexplicably, cars drive into an intersection in the middle of the melee. The vehicles’ presence is suspicious. Even when the cars stop and the drivers and passengers indicate surrender, D’Alessandro and his unit open fire and ask questions later.
Bodies lie on the ground. Some members of Mariam’s family never get up. Ever. Initially callous, D’Alessandro becomes increasingly troubled as the enormity of his actions sinks in. “This is a family that suffered because of what I did.” Ten years later, guilt paralyzes the Marine as deeply as loss torments Mariam. Her family’s enduring grief and trauma are on view, too. All need healing, if healing is possible. The parallels between the two sides are striking. Atonement works in two directions: reconciliation is a dual process.
From the friendly opening to the ball of confusion, lingering smell of death and cloud of regret, Reed Van Dyk takes you through all the stages of a jarring incident, its aftermath and the possibility of hope. Never histrionic or clawing. The emotions felt are hard earned. The 118-minute running time passes quickly, thanks to Chelsi Johnston’s crisp editing. The mood remains tense because Zak Engel’s musical score deftly intensifies the emotional stakes.
Holbrook wears Lou’s shame like prison shackles. Branagh, as the go-between, wisely stays understated. Michael is a facilitator, a background presence who allows Holbrook and Abbass to take the lead. The screen firmly belongs to Abbass, whose stoic performance matches the strength of the pivotal character. She’s the one who can restore some equilibrium. She conveys it through her eyes, tone, facial expressions and mannerisms.
Hearts are broken. Healing is necessary. Viewers want to know if this wrong can be righted one day. That’s the mark of a compelling storyline and characters who inspire empathy. As D’Alessandro’s beleaguered girlfriend (Gratiela Brancusi) puts it, “When you pick up a gun and shoot, the bullet goes both ways.” A lesson for soldiers. A lesson for those who bear arms. A lesson for those who start wars.
Remorse has no expiration date. Repairing a wrong is a step in the right direction.
A gripping drama. A cautionary tale.
Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AC-s58uMeH8
Photos courtesy of the Toronto International Film Festival
For more information about the Toronto International Film Festival go to https://tiff.net/.
Visit Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com.