The Hurt Locker

Skirting pro and anti-war propaganda for as close to you-are-there verisimilitude as Hollywood can aspire to bring forth without actually making a documentary, The Hurt Locker is a tense, smart and insightful characterization of a particular kind of psyche. In times of war there are adrenaline junkies, those who require the structure and hierarchy, the off-chance that they could go out in the field and not return alive. The Hurt Locker examines these things, and presents action scenes which are outgrowths of the story and propel the actions and characters forward. They are not glib trailer-friendly but unnecessary shit-goes-boom-real-pretty scenes. It does this through a combination of visual stylization and you-are-there shaky cam work. It also comes complete with three lead performances of such strength and commanding presence that an injustice was committed in not mentioning Brian Geraghty and Anthony Mackie in the supporting actor race.

The Hurt Locker opens with a scene that perfectly encapsulates the tense action-drama that is about to unfold before us, it is a (roughly) ten minute study in maintaining a nerve-racking tone. In one of three incredibly brief cameo performances, Guy Pearce appears as our first bomb disposal technician. We learn about their friendship and work ethic by how they interact with each other. Each actor wears a particular gait and their body tells just as much of a story as the words coming out of their mouths. When it ends there is a cacophony of sounds and visuals. The rust flying off of a car, the disturbingly beautiful cloud of debris that will quickly engulf Pearce, the way that we switch from something approximating realism to artistic flourishes – this is the sure hand of a director who’s working at the top of their game, an artist painting an intimate yet vast panorama of war-time malaise and soul-crushing banality, or the heightened paranoia and emotions that are always bubbling under the surface of these men. We know that we are about to watch a movie, more of a film really, and as real as it can look, feel and sound, it is still a work of fiction.

And so it goes for another two hours. I was never bored, and I felt something similar to reading a great novel. Each detail helped paint the panoramic vision of this particular group of men during this particular war. “War is a drug,” we are informed at the beginning, and so it obviously is for Jeremy Renner’s character that represents that credo in both deeds and emotions. He doesn’t feel alive unless he knows that going out into the field today will be his last time. It is like a game of chess for him, and he is one of the best players of the game. But all it takes is one person smarter than him, or one person who is luckier or faster to detonate the bomb. He knows this, and we know it. Not because of grandstanding speeches, but because of the macho-bravado that bursts forth from himself while on the battlefield. In a scene at the very end of the film we see him in civilian life. It isn’t just boredom that creeps across his face; it’s a kind of emotional claustrophobia. There are too many choices, too many options; there is no danger, no heroics. There is nothing in our world that he recognizes, clings to or can relate to. Everything he knows and loves is on the battlefield. I have a tremendous amount of respect for people like this; even if I often find myself think that they are slightly crazy in some way. They are willing to do something that I could never bring myself to do, not because they want to but because they have to.

And he is given two equally fantastic performances to bounce off of. Geraghty is perfectly cast as the youngest of the squad. An All-American Male type – good-looking, blonde, blue-eyed – who finds himself feeling like a child in a world of men, he wants to serve his country but he knows that at any moment it could return home as a casualty. That doesn’t feel like the inevitable and desirable conclusion that Renner’s character sees it as. He comes apart will trying to relax on the base. The word and concept of ‘relax’ must be a laugh riot for him in the barracks, a dark comedic joke that reverberates long into the cold night taunting him. Anthony Mackie as the head of the support team is the kind of military personnel that most of us have met or think of. They want to go in, get the job done and go home. They’re called into military service for patriotic reasons mostly, possibly monetary reasons, possibly any number of others. More than likely some combination of various reasons because life is fluid and vague, specific and detailed, sometimes all at the same time. He understands that Renner’s the best, but can’t stand his cocky bravado. They forge a mutual understanding, a respect even. They even allow for moments of tenderness and humanity to pore through the edges. Mackie’s final tear-stained confession that this job scares him, he wants a son so that some part of him could live on should anything happen is the kind of quiet, unaffected acting that should have gotten him an Oscar nomination. Alas, for whatever reason, the movie fates decided against nomination these two worthy performances.

And, lastly, we must address the curious opinion that the only reason Kathryn Bigelow won her Oscar was because it was high-time that a female director won an Oscar. While, yes, I cannot deny that this probably played some part in the final decision, I beg people to watch the film. She creates a tense and realistic atmosphere from frame one until the end credits start to roll. She has created a realistic portrait of three different types of military figures. She has displayed an incredible mastery of Hitchcock’s theory of suspense: we know there is a bomb under the table, the characters play cards, the bomb doesn’t explode. We just sit there waiting. And waiting. That doesn’t mean she avoids action, on the contrary in fact. There is action, but it makes logical sense to the story. I saw The Hurt Locker long after the Oscar glow had faded, I had supported it during the Oscar season because I had read up on it and found it to be possibly interesting and intriguing. I liked that I heard about it, and it was the perfect antithesis to Avatar. Now that I have finally seen it, all I can say is: the Academy proved that the box office and popularity doesn’t consistently inform their decisions; artistic recognition has always and always will play the biggest part.