A Bold Showcase
They definitely won’t screen this film at military recruitment centers. Warfare (arriving April 11) emerges as a mesmerizing cinematic feat that operates on a riveting yet deeply unsettling level. At the same time, it ranks among the most disquieting experiences imaginable, leaving me to wonder afterward, “So what on earth was the point of all that?” Even so, it stands as an unusual case in which you can acknowledge and admire the sheer mastery behind it while still feeling an unshakable dislike for its content.
The plot of this film appears almost austerely simple, to the point of feeling more like an abstract exercise than a conventional story. Set in 2006 Iraq, a contingent of Navy SEALs deploys on a mission that at first seems straightforward but rapidly spirals into something far darker. They occupy a local home—a word that sounds harmless but in practice means they storm inside and confine the civilians to one bedroom, then proceed to drill through walls—so they can monitor activity in a nearby marketplace. Gradually, armed men begin to assemble, and although you can practically taste the approaching chaos, the unavoidable violence still manages to jolt you when it finally arrives.
The sense of dread expands second by second, turning the viewer into a tense spectator awaiting the next explosion of brutality. Every new angle of surveillance and each muffled footstep in the house drives home that it is only a matter of time before everything goes violently wrong. Then, in a calculated heartbeat, the film delivers a swift rush of carnage that is both frightening and surprising. The intensity never slackens, and although the sudden onslaught of bloodshed is expected, it still has the power to jar you, heightening the film’s disturbing impact.
Warnings from a Friend
Interestingly, I tried to brace myself in advance by texting a friend who had already seen Warfare. My question was direct, if a bit anxious: “Are there a lot of men writhing in agony, clutching their guts?” The response I received was a stark “Yes.” I groaned and admitted that I might simply shut my eyes at those moments, but the friend offered a bleak reassurance: “That won’t do anything about the screams.” In that instant, I realized there would be no true escape from the film’s relentless depiction of pain.
Consequently, Warfare fulfills the rare role of being both compelling and unpleasant in equal measure. Its abstract simplicity, paired with its unyielding portrayal of life-ending brutality, underscores its unique identity as a film that demands your attention but also tests your limits. And this prolonged waiting period lies at the core of Warfare, presented almost entirely “in real time” as a rescue squad struggles to reach severely injured men. The urgency feels relentless, with every second dominated by the agonizing knowledge that medical assistance is desperately needed. Joseph Quinn, the brilliant British actor recognized for A Quiet Place: Day One, Gladiator 2, and soon appearing as Johnny Storm in Fantastic Four: First Steps, spends much of the film in sheer torment.
He writhes on the floor, unleashing shrieks that sound like they surge from the darkest depths of suffering. It might even lead you to wonder, in a grimly lighthearted moment, how much warm salt water he must have swished around between takes just to make it through. Indeed, unless a viewer has zero empathy, these sequences—plus many others—will likely be uncomfortable and brutal reminders of the true horrors of war.
A Star in Distress
Meanwhile, Joseph Quinn’s tortured presence underscores just how severe and unflinching the action becomes. The film’s depiction of physical and psychological torment is relentless, pushing beyond what most audiences might be prepared to watch. Yet this element is precisely what reinforces the authenticity of the military environment. From the gushing wounds and the deafening wails to the looming threat that help might not arrive in time, every grim detail intensifies the viewer’s feeling of dread. Where many war-themed productions shy away from over-the-top realism, Warfare wholeheartedly embraces it, showing us injuries that will make you wince and eliciting screams that you cannot simply ignore.
The movie is co-written and co-directed by Alex Garland, best known for last year’s Civil War, who joined forces with Ray Mendoza, a former Navy SEAL. Mendoza previously acted as a consultant on a film led by Kirsten Dunst. In Warfare, he draws from his own brutal experiences in Iraq to inform the grim events we see on screen. This personal backstory infuses the film with unmistakable emotional weight, pushing it far beyond standard war-movie tropes. D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai steps into the role of the younger Mendoza and thus takes center stage in this bleak ensemble. His character endures excruciating ordeals, reinforcing how Warfare refuses to offer much background information. Instead, you witness raw reactions, sometimes with few words attached, leaving you to interpret what these characters might be feeling or thinking amid such extreme duress.
An Immersive Reality
The cast also features Will Poulter, Michael Gandolfini, and Taylor John Smith, yet none of them receive a traditional origin story or in-depth backstory. The filmmakers insist on thrusting the audience directly into the immediate chaos, forcing viewers to confront the brutality rather than get sidetracked by the characters’ past lives. The approach is both daring and draining, hurling you headlong into moments of heart-pounding crisis with little reprieve.
In many respects, Warfare plays more like an art installation than a standard film. Its “You Are There” philosophy is spelled out plainly in the official notes, which I skimmed during my train ride home as I attempted to erase lingering images of shredded bodies and agonized shrieking from my memory. According to these notes, Warfare “is a reminder to the people who make the decisions to go to war that there are people that will answer that call so that others don’t have to.” This statement tries to emphasize the human cost of armed conflict, underscoring that for every choice made in a high office, there are soldiers on the ground absorbing the consequences.
Though it is not a novel idea—writers from Tolstoy to Black Sabbath have underscored the same point—this message is still one worth restating. Here, the film’s emphasis on a vague but lethal mission from twenty years ago serves to highlight that armed forces continue, right at this moment, to receive orders deploying them into violent situations. On one level, it cautions that such brutality is likely to remain an endless cycle. It underscores the disturbing reality that each new generation becomes responsible for carrying out commands that can shatter lives and decimate communities, often with little clarity on the bigger purpose or goal.
A Sense of Purpose
In that sense, one might argue that Warfare is a noble undertaking, since it confronts the viewer with unsettling truths about combat that few genuinely want to face. It forces us to consider the pain felt by those who fight, bleed, and struggle in circumstances far removed from political debates. By looking at how quickly a seemingly routine order can spiral into horrific bloodshed, it demands that we look at war’s cost in a way that talking points on television or official press briefings never fully convey.
But then again, is it truly noble? The film shoves so much unrelenting cruelty in our faces that we have to wonder: What exactly do we gain from immersing ourselves in this grim reality? After all, the world already overflows with problems—do we need more bleakness on our screens? My own encounter with Warfare emerged out of a responsibility to watch it and report back, yet I still question whether anyone would willingly subject themselves to such graphic torment. For some, it might be a harrowing wake-up call, but for others, it could simply be too much to bear.
Ultimately, the film achieves its mission by refusing to let viewers distance themselves from the horrors of war. At the same time, it raises difficult questions about the utility of illustrating so much agony in such vivid detail. Are we supposed to emerge galvanized, alarmed, depressed, or some messy mixture of these emotions? Regardless, Warfare succeeds in provoking thought, even if those thoughts revolve around whether one regrets watching it in the first place. When the credits roll, the overarching impression is that, for all our technology and ambition, the cycle of devastation marches on, and we cannot easily look away—even if we desperately want to.
An Added Epilogue
Earlier, I noted that the film feels more like an art project than a standard motion picture. However, an epilogue surfaces at the end, transforming it into something more conventional and undercutting the film’s painstaking attempt at a neutral perspective. This final segment unfolds during the mid-credits, contrasting photographs of the real-life survivors against footage of the actors who portray them on screen. The phenomenal Cosmo Jarvis (famous as “the yelling guy” from Shōgun) appears horsing around with the actual Navy SEAL he embodies in the movie, culminating in a playful arm-wrestling contest that decisively shatters the documentary-like mystique established earlier.
It’s certainly agreeable that everyone involved in the production got a chance to meet one another. There’s no doubt that such a connection likely helped Jarvis deepen his portrayal—his acting is indeed impressive, and bonding with the individual whose story he is telling can lend authenticity and intensity to a role. Nonetheless, turning these lighthearted interactions into a kind of cheerful denouement drags the film away from the grim, unsparing tone it carefully nurtured.
By including this jovial footage, the filmmakers effectively shatter the gritty aura they labored so hard to create. After spending so much of its runtime entrenched in relentless turmoil and existential dread, Warfare suddenly lets the world see the production team climbing out from behind the curtain. The viewer is invited to applaud “our boys,” complete with a congratulatory pat on the back. The seamless immersion that had allowed us to peer into the visceral experience of war abruptly dissolves, replaced by a more traditional “happy ending” coda that feels at odds with the rest of the film.
A Contrast to Civil War
Comparisons arise to Civil War, a previous film by Alex Garland which gained acclaim due to its unwavering refusal to comment on its characters’ actions. That steadfast neutrality contributed powerfully to its overall effectiveness. Instead of offering moral judgments or easy answers, Civil War forced viewers to wrestle with their own emotions and interpretations. This approach lent the film an enduring mystique—one that Warfare initially tries to replicate, before sidelining that perspective in the final moments.
Hence, when Warfare ventures into mid-credits territory to celebrate real soldiers and the actors who represent them, it completely overturns the unsentimental stance that defined the earlier scenes. The decision to feature these genuine personalities, while laudable on a human level, undermines the intense realism viewers experienced just minutes prior. Perhaps the filmmakers hoped to highlight camaraderie or to convey a sense of closure. However, the effect is more of a jolt, pulling us out of the movie’s brutally immersive reality and locking in a congratulatory note that diminishes the sorrow and horror previously displayed.
Ultimately, Warfare finds itself weakened by its own epilogue. In surrendering the detached lens it wielded so powerfully, the film forfeits a measure of its potency. Instead of leaving the audience to sit with raw, unanswered questions—an approach that might have prompted deeper reflection—it softens the blow with a breezy, behind-the-scenes ending. Consequently, its capacity to stand as a resonant commentary on warfare and its human consequences is somewhat reduced, making for a final statement that feels distinctly less memorable than it could have been.
