Four stars. Rated R, for strong violence, grisly images and profanity
By Derrick Bang
Mexico probably won’t think very
highly of this film.
Indeed, a formal state department
complaint wouldn’t be surprising.
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| When Kate (Emily Blunt) demands to know more about the increasingly complicated and morally questionable government "mission" in which she has agreed to participate, she gets only vague answers from Alejandro (Benicio Del Toro, left) and Matt (Josh Brolin). |
But first-time writer Taylor
Sheridan can’t be blamed for responding to the increasingly grim headlines that
keep erupting south of the border, and it’s not as if any of the events
depicted in this drama exaggerate reality. The truth probably remains worse.
And Taylor’s “needs must” notion
of a possible U.S. response is more than tantalizing; it feels utterly
reasonable. And, frankly, scary.
Better still, Taylor has found
the perfect colleague in Canadian director Denis Villeneuve, who most recently
mesmerized us with 2013’s scary kidnap drama, Prisoners. Villeneuve’s films aren’t merely suspenseful; they’re
nervous-making to a degree that prompts disquieting nightmares for days
(weeks?) to follow.
He applies the same touch to Sicario, a ripped-from-current-events
drama that paints a discouraging portrait of the escalating narcotics border
war between the United States and Mexico: a war that we’re clearly losing, as
portions of Mexico slide ever closer to becoming failed states. Assuming they
haven’t already failed.
We meet our protagonist, Arizona
FBI agent and kidnap-response team leader Kate Macer (Emily Blunt), during a
raid on an outwardly ordinary suburban home in an average American
neighborhood. Kate, steadfast partner/friend Reggie Wayne (Daniel Kaluuya) and
their colleagues encounter resistance and gunfire: an oddly protective
response, given the apparently empty house.
But it isn’t empty, as Kate soon
discovers. In fact, the residence — clandestinely owned by the leader of a
Mexican drug cartel — is a shocking horror.
Back at base, Kate is surprised
to find herself profiled by a pair of outsiders: Matt Graver (Josh Brolin),
introduced as some sort of State Department task force leader; and a quiet,
shadowy individual known only as Alejandro (Benicio Del Toro). Both offer Kate
the opportunity to join them in a bold operation designed to “make a statement”
and truly do something about a
situation that continues to escalate beyond control.
Think carefully before answering,
Kate’s boss (the always reliable Victor Garber) warns her. The unspoken
implication: The operation might exceed jurisdictional boundaries.
No matter. Kate’s in.
The initial mission seems simple
enough: Cross the border into Juárez, to collect a high-level cartel member
from prison — Mexican authorities having okayed the extradition — then bring
him back to the States for interrogation. But the execution immediately feels wrong to Kate; the team assembled by
special agent Steve Forsing (Jeffrey Donovan, late of TV’s Burn Notice) is an unsettling alphabet soup mix of CIA, FBI,
district attorney and military forces.
Just to collect a prisoner?
Not precisely, as it turns out.
And if this opening sortie exceeds Kate’s comfort zone, what soon follows
leaves her idealism in tatters. This is U.S. behavior and justice at work?
“We’re providing a measure of order,”
Graver explains, “that we can control.”
Certainly some semblance of order seems necessary, even essential. Kate’s
introduction to Juárez is a descent into the seventh level of hell, with teeming,
poverty-stricken neighborhoods routinely terrorized by automatic weapon fire,
and mutilated bodies hung beneath freeway overpasses. It seems impossible to
believe that residents endure amid such unrestrained chaos, and yet they do;
children eagerly turn out for sporting matches, their parents uneasily looking
up at each distant — or nearby — staccato burst.
Villeneuve and Sheridan make a
point of depicting how such grim events affect relationships: whether within
families, or between friends and colleagues. An adolescent boy patiently waits
each morning to find out whether his father (Maximiliano Hernández), a Juárez
policeman, will have time to practice soccer. Reggie grows concerned about
Kate’s moral choices; it clearly threatens their friendship.
Kate, as well, finds the sand
shifting beneath her sense of social consciousness, her bearings increasingly
adrift. She’s a loner by nature, and this situation enhances her sense of
isolation. This, in turn, leads to the story’s most fascinating relationship:
the growing bond, of sorts, between Kate and the mysterious Alejandro.
Del Toro continues to have the
best sleepy-eyed stare in Hollywood, his quietly focused gaze always speaking
volumes: in this case, primarily menace. We never doubt Alejandro’s implacable
skill and resourcefulness, or his ability to finesse and survive even the most
dangerous situation. And yet the man also has an unexpectedly tender side, Del
Toro’s expression and solemn line readings suggesting something deeper —
regret? protective concern? — every time he shares a moment with Kate.
Blunt, in turn, meets the
challenge of her morally conflicted character. Kate is a woman of subtle
complications and contradictions; she wants to “make a difference,” but finds
it ever more difficult to justify the means toward that end. The uncertainty
and indecision are crippling her, and Blunt is every inch a person in crisis.
It’s like we’re watching Kate lose her soul, drop by precious drop.
On a lighter note — at least,
until matters become critical — Blunt and Kaluuya do a marvelous job with the
relationship between Kate and Reggie. The bond isn’t romantic, although it’s
certainly caring; they’re more like a bantering, gently bickering brother and
sister. This link becomes crucial, as Reggie becomes Kate’s only hold on
sanity.
Where Del Toro is quietly, calmly
sinister, Brolin’s Graver is brash, chatty and cheerfully unscrupulous, and
laden with Texas-style swagger. (It’s perhaps unfortunate that Brolin affects
so similar an attitude in the recently released Everest.) He sports a ready smile that invariably lacks sincerity,
his dancing eyes betraying absolutely nothing.
And, Kate soon suspects,
everything he says is, at best, a half-truth ... and more likely a whole lie.
That, in turn, points to a plot
point that Villeneuve and Sheridan rely on perhaps too heavily: We grow annoyed
by the way Kate is constantly belittled, ignored, humiliated, taken advantage
of, and left in the dark. She seems superfluous to the narrative, her presence
dictated less by what Graver and Alejandro require, and more by her role as our surrogate: her moral compass
existing to mirror our own growing unease.
There’s no way such an individual
ever would be included, if such operations actually get mounted. Nobody would
want to risk the potential public blowback from her ethical uncertainty.
So, okay, fine; she’s a narrative
device. But if this role becomes slightly obvious at times, it certainly
doesn’t diminish this film’s power; Blunt is far too interesting as a
character, and Villeneuve knows precisely how to keep our emotional screws
tightened.
Speaking of which, considerable
credit for that nervous tension also belongs to composer Jóhann Jóhannsson,
whose percussive soundtrack is, by itself, the stuff of unsettling nightmares.
This isn’t a score that’ll play at home as a stand-alone album, but it’s
note-perfect for Villeneuve’s film, and contributes greatly to moods that range
from disquieting to devastatingly poignant.
On an historical note, we can’t
help being reminded of Steven Soderbergh’s Traffic,
which brought Del Toro his Academy Award. Villeneuve and Sheridan haven’t
stitched a tapestry quite that broad or complicated, but the backdrop and tone
certainly are similar.
Traffic left us with only the faint possibility that
enough good people might remain, to help transform Mexico’s vicious narco
culture. But that was 15 years ago, and things have only gotten worse. Much worse.
It’s hard (impossible?) to exit Sicario without succumbing to the
bleakest despair. But I’m also left with another uneasy question: How will the
next drama, in another 15 years,
handle this issue?
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