Oh boy.
The first thing you need to know about Sicario: Day of the Soldado is that it's a mess of messages. As a sequel, it sucks. As a standalone film, it's endlessly problematic. As a cultural product in 2018, it's shameful. And as entertainment, it's kind of fun to watch. Shall we unpack? Do let's.
Sicario was my #2 favorite film of 2015. Its glorious score, rapturous cinematography, slickly sly screenplay, and beastly performances haunted me ever since I saw it on the big screen. Sadly, the story of Emily Blunt's character ended with that picture, along with the involvement of director Denis Villeneuve, cinematographer Roger Deakins, and composer Johan Johansson (who died this February). We are left with Taylor Sheridan's new screenplay and a mostly new cast and crew for a sequel that no one expected and absolutely no one wanted.
Strife between Mexico and the U.S. has reached a crisis point, as ISIS terrorists are using La Frontera as the stage for suicide bombings. Matt (Josh Brolin) is given special permission to fight dirty with the drug cartels suspected of harboring these international terrorists. Of course he calls in Alejandro (Benicio Del Toro) for help with his latest secret mission: to set the cartels against each other and sit back to watch the fireworks. All does not go as planned.
Where to begin? First off, the movie has a terrible title. It should have just been called Soldado. Then again, it shouldn't have been called anything because nobody wanted a sequel! Did I already say that? I'll reiterate: nobody wanted a sequel. Moving on....
Whereas the first film featured a story of increasing violence and the slow revelation of U.S. complicity (read: absolute guilt) in border violence and the "war on drugs" -- framed with the effect of this violence on average families, especially of one Mexican family -- this film is a bloodbath with little (if any) dramatic purpose. Its themes are needlessly bleak, its tone irreverent, its target audience Trump supporters.
Too harsh? Think again. This film is almost total propaganda, and its placement in the 2018 calendar is shameful at best. At a time when families are being ripped apart and children are locked in cages, we have a movie whose logic indicates that this is not only normal but totally justifiable. The film suggests that Mexican drug cartels and ISIS are working together to create chaos for the U.S. and that the best way to fight them is by kidnapping children.
To make matters worse, the film has almost none of the aesthetic or technical brilliance of the first. In fact, it blatantly rips off from other -- more effective and original -- movies, including its own predecessor. Its story meanders, piling up improbabilities as often as offenses and trying to brush over it all with waves of violence. When we aren't subjected to crazy shootouts and car chases and torture, we're forced to hear racist people assaulting each other with words and ideas. Even the one instance of the film retreating to a rational position -- a throwaway line late in the film about how the ISIS bombers weren't from Mexico, but from New Jersey -- is at once completely inconsequential and utterly horrific in that, by this point in the film, neither the characters nor the audience can even register the violence that statement does to the story.
The closest I can get to appreciating the film revolves solely around Benicio Del Toro as Alejandro (also and by the way, why is Lady Gaga's song of the same name never featured in conjunction with this character? That is a missed golden opportunity!). His performance is no less committed here than it was before, and although his character is given shit by the screenplay, Del Toro manages to make the film both watchable and entertaining.
And while I'm not going to say the film -- taken for its all -- is culturally "bad" (after all, my single viewing and interpretation cannot comprehend all its complexities), it is dangerous and deserves careful consideration before, during, and after viewing. It's a fascinating look into a social watershed moment during this divisive summer of 2018, and while it's endlessly problematic, what isn't these days? Come for Del Toro, stay for the pulp, and leave determined to be a better person. If, that is, you can stomach the carnage you witness.
P.S.: I've heard the term "MAGA-sploitation" used in conjunction with this film, and I think that's a really fascinating concept. I've thought a lot, before, about Clint Eastwood's deeply problematic films and their tendency toward libertarian propaganda. But what's at work in Soldado seems to be something else, and MAGA-sploitation may be a useful tool to bring into film theory these days.
IMDb: Sicario: Day of the Soldado
No comments:
Post a Comment