A really good movie, like a really good work of literary fiction, will almost certainly contain at least some measure of moral ambiguity. As to which characters are good, which ones are bad, the factors that make them so, and the thousand different ways in which good and evil manifest themselves and interact. Think, for example, of the Iliad as perhaps the best work on war ever written. In the entire poem, much the most sympathetic character is the Trojan hero Hector. And why? Not because the cause he is serving is just—as he himself is well aware, it is not. And not because he is some kind of superman—at least three other characters, including above all Achilles at whose hands he is destined to die, are better warriors than he is. And not because those whom he fights are bad people. In the end, even the proud, touchy, and overall terrible Achilles is shown as capable of love and sorrow (for Patroclus) and compassion (for King Priam). But because he is, at bottom, a modest and even likeable man; god-fearing and not inclined to boast or commit deeds of superfluous cruelty as so many other heroes do. Above all there are his ability to love, which comes through even in the midst of “fearsome war,” and his perfect loyalty both to his own family and to the city of his birth; doomed to destruction though they both are.
By that, admittedly very high, standard 1917 is definitely not a very good movie. The plot is simple, not to say simplistic. This is April and one of the battalions of a British infantry regiment is manning a sector of the front in the rich earth of Flanders. Finding the enemy in retreat, its commander wants to attack and pursue. However, higher headquarters learns that the retreat is really a trap. Thereupon two soldiers are sent out on a perilous journey to warn the commander. One, Lance Corporal Tom Blake, volunteers for the mission because he hopes to save a brother who is serving in the battalion in question. The other, Lance Corporal William Schofield, is selected by Blake himself because of his immense obstinacy and determination to carry out orders at all costs.
Carrying a message, the two of them set out into what soon reveals itself as a nightmarish landscape of abandoned guns, wrecked buildings, bare, mutilated trees, and above all, vast seas of mud. Not to mention the rotting corpses of dead men and animals half buried or lying around in bizarre postures. Pursued might and main, shot at from every available weapon, following many adventures in one of which Blake is killed, Schofield finally arrives at his destination. True, the attack is already under way and Blake’s brother has already been killed. But at least he is able to save the bulk of the regiment from certain destruction.
I am not expert on movies and will not comment on the film’s direction, musical score, and sound effects, for all of which (and more) it has been called “a work of cinematic wizardry.” I do, however, want to say something about two other aspects. The first is its supposed realism for which it has earned much praise. I do not want to go into detail on this point. Just trust me when I say that real war is much, much worse. So much so that putting all its horrors on the screen is probably impossible. And so much so that, had someone succeeded in doing so, much of the public, instead of praising the product, would have refused to watch and turned its back on it.
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As a result, I found watching 1917 was a bit like watching a caricature in black and white. In favor of the movie I must say that it did make me think about what a really good war movie, or a really good war novel, should be like; the way drinking a simple vin de table makes one appreciate, and long for, a grand cru.
That too, is something.