Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Movie Review: "Queen And Country" (John Boorman, 2015)

TYPING HIS WAY THROUGH WAR by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

The gleaming fantasy.  The dutiful biopic.  The unnerving tragedy.  Try as they might, movies are often doomed to predictability by the codes of their chosen genres—codes that we absorb like succulent, cinema-adoring sponges.  But John Boorman’s “Queen and Country,” somehow, defies any pattern.  At first, it is a playful comedy.  Yet gradually, the bantering mischief is tainted.  Egos are burnished, engagements are broken, and innocence, finally, is lost.

            We are in the realm of the military.  The Korean War is afoot and in England, so too is the draft.  And so we follow Bill Rohan (Callum Turner) and Percy Hapgood (Caleb Landry Jones) as they enter a regiment of slob soldiers run by the ferociously disdainful Sergeant Bradley (David Thewlis).

            Bill and Percy make a farce of it all.  Considered too moronic for active duty, they’re assigned to teach typing lessons, during which they instruct they’re young charges to slouch and repeatedly type the phrase “all good boys deserve sex.”  It’s a gag; the war is on, but our heroes greet it a sly smirk.  Bill smiles knowingly as he lectures his students, at once pleased with himself for having escaped the horrors of combat and conscious of how ridiculous his mundane role in the army really is.

            And yet the mischief can’t last.  A mysterious woman (Tasmin Egerton), immaculately dressed in a blue coat, beguiles Bill, then breaks his spirit; and as the story unfolds, Bill and Percy find themselves increasingly furious with Bradley (when criticizing them isn’t enough, he nastily rips into Percy’s girlfriend).  Bradley, though, is just a symptom of his regiment, where silly antics and slithering corruption march side by side.

            How did I feel after watching “Queen and Country”?  Mostly sad.  This is a beautifully told story; it’s clean and clear like a classic Hollywood drama, yet something about its rhythm takes you aback, keeps you from armoring up against bitter emotional aftertaste.  That is why in the end, the fates of the characters—rejection, prison, insanity—left me feeling that even for the ones that do emerge unscathed, something has been irrevocably lost.   

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