Review: War Machine
Alan Ritchson, possibly after reading the War Machine script
Yes, I saw them: all those reviews of Netflix’s War Machine that went out of their way to say that, well, it’s not good-good, but it’s entertaining. And, in fairness, Netflix have produced a few big stupid action films through the years that did fit that description; and Alan Ritchson, if not exactly a proven serious actor, is a likeable enough presence. So, with an empty house on a Friday night, what else is a man going to do except have a look?
If you haven’t seen it yet, the plot is so generic that you have to assume it’s knowingly done: essentially it’s the plot of Predator (hoo-rah military types are being hunted in the wilderness by an alien life form), with the twist that the thing hunting them is a simplified, mechanically shambling Transformer type.
Ritchson plays plays an ageing, nameless soldier (he’s just called 81 here) with a tragic past that gives him a certain reputation among his wannabe colleagues, who just really really wants to join the Ranger Corps in honour of his dead brother. To begin with, there are the usual shouty boot-camp sequences – the insulting commanding officers, the usual grunt banter, some sweaty clambering – before, in a final attempt to make the grade, 81 reluctantly leads a team on a remote training operation. And while there, while still getting to know each other, they meet…you know, the vanguard of an alien invasion, not best pleased to have its snooze interrupted.
Look, I’ll be honest: I’ve enjoyed daft films with similar setups before. War Machine borrows from a lot of them, but doesn't quite understand what made the better ones work. Which would usually be: diverse characters, sharp dialogue, zippy action. The characters here are laughably blank (even that conspiracy-minded one who might be right!), and the dialogue and action are about as perfunctory as the makers could get away with.
It’s worse than it sounds, though. What I’ve described just makes it a dull experience. But Dennis Quaid being hard-assed yet again, and the complete lack of ideas, make it tiresome; and, worse, there’s a crass strain of militarism running through it that often just feels downright unpleasant. I switched off halfway through, possibly to allow more time to ask myself why so many outlets were trying so hard to make this sound more enjoyable than it actually is.
