3.5 stars. Rated R, for violence and dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang
Terrible title, taut thriller.
And historical authenticity
doesn’t necessarily justify the choice. Nor does historical authenticity
conceal another issue.
To cite another recent example
... despite the care with which 2000’s The
Perfect Storm was assembled, I couldn’t overcome the core paradox:
Sebastian Junger’s book — and,
thus, William D. Wittliff’s screenplay — were based on an actual event that
left no survivors. Ergo, everything we watched was no more than an educated presumption
of what actually happened: a narrative conceit that can’t help pulling us out of the story at every significant
juncture.
This is never a problem with
dramatic fiction, which allows us to simply go with the flow; we accept the
saga on its own merits. But no matter how persuasively George Clooney and Mark
Wahlberg delivered their dialogue — no matter how heroically they behaved — it
was impossible to accept things at face value. Were the men in question really that brave? Actually that selfless?
Similar questions emerge during
the course of Anthropoid, director
Sean Ellis’ often gripping account of a World War II incident that forever
changed the fate of Czechoslovakia, and quite likely altered the direction of the
entire war. Ellis and co-writer Anthony Frewin have developed their script from
what is known about “Operation Anthropoid,” and while the clandestine mission’s
preparation and outcome are the stuff of recorded history, much of this
storyline can’t be any better than speculation.
Whether that’s vexing enough to
be an issue, will be up to the individual viewer. It’s easy to imagine that things may have gone down
this way, and that might be sufficient. Ellis certainly draws persuasive
performances from most of his cast — with one unfortunate exception — and
there’s no denying the suspenseful nobility inherent in WWII resistance
fighters who risked everything to thwart Nazi advances.
The film begins in December 1941,
three years after the Allies’ notorious “Munich Agreement”: the act of
appeasement that passively allowed Hitler to take over Czechoslovakia without a
shot being fired. Two soldiers from the London-based Czechoslovakian
army-in-exile — Jan Kubiš (Jamie Dornan) and Josef Gabčík (Cillian Murphy) — parachute back into their occupied homeland, and
carefully make their way to the few individuals who remain in the underground
resistance.
They reach a safe house, where
they’re sheltered by Mr. and Mrs. Moravec (Pavel Reznícek and Alena Mihulová)
and their teenage son, Ata (Bill Milner), the latter studying to be a concert
violinist. The newcomers report to resistance leaders Ladislav Vanek (Marcin
Dorocinski) and “Uncle” Hajský
(Toby Jones), at which point the mission is revealed: Jan and Josef have been sent to assassinate SS-Obergruppenführer Reinhard
Heydrich, the so-called “Butcher of Prague,” and one of the primary architects
of the Holocaust.
And, perhaps more importantly,
the Reich’s third in command, behind only Hitler and Himmler.
Vanek regards the plan as sheer
lunacy, quite accurately pointing out that fewer than a dozen men never could
get close enough to Heydrich, given the armed escorts who follow him
everywhere. Vanek also has every reason to mistrust a scheme put into action by
the same Allies who blithely gave Czechoslovakia to Hitler.
To say nothing of the worst fear:
Whether successful or not, what sort of reprisal would the Nazis unleash, after
such an incident?
Such concerns notwithstanding, Hajský and the other resistance fighters agree to
cooperate. Preparations occupy the next five months, at which point...
...but that
would be telling.
Ellis gets his
film off to a slow start, the first half absorbed with clumsily contrived love
interests. Jan falls with improbable swiftness for Marie (Charlotte Le Bon), a
young woman who helps in the Moravec household; Josef’s developing bond with
Lenka (Anna Geislerová), a shrewd resistance fighter, is more prickly.
While seeking
the solace of passion certainly is reasonable under such circumstances, Ellis’
handling of same feels like time-wasting stalling: particularly since we get
such a superficial sense of neighborhood life under Nazi rule. Granted, it’s
horrible, but that’s too simplistic; given Heydrich’s
indiscriminate slaughter of civilians, simple challenges such as the steady
acquisition of food become paramount. We’re curious.
And how do the undocumented Jan and Josef maintain their cover for five
months, particularly since they’re so frequently out on the streets? Instead of
addressing such issues, we waste time watching Jan behave like a lovesick
schoolboy.
Part of the problem is that
Dornan lacks the acting chops necessary for his role’s emotional complexities.
Early on, we see Jan balk when given the opportunity to shoot somebody who
could expose them: a weakness that troubles Josef. Ellis clearly intends to
make a running theme of Jan’s struggle to become braver, but Dornan never sells
this inner battle.
Unlike virtually all the other
actors cast as resistance fighters, Dornan simply doesn’t look like he belongs;
his line readings and body language too frequently feel like the uncertain work
of an unrehearsed understudy.
Particularly when placed
alongside Murphy, who looks and sounds every inch a Czech soldier. The long undersung Irish actor has a lengthy
career of wholly immersive performances, whether in vicarious popcorn fluff
(2005’s Red Eye) or mind-bending
science fiction (2010’s Inception).
His work here is equally precise, Josef a multi-faceted warrior who struggles
to conceal his softer side, but never quite succeeds. In a word, he’s
fascinating.
The same can be said of Harry
Lloyd, Václav Neužil and Jiří Šimek, who with Dorocinski and
Jones quite compellingly play the other resistance fighters.
Prague-born Geislerová is equally convincing as Lenka, a woman of
barely repressed fury who loathes the Nazi invaders with every breath, and
resents the impertinence of “outsiders” who profess to know what’s best for her
country. She shares many quietly powerful scenes with Murphy, none better than
when Lenka surprises Josef with her firearm familiarity.
Le Bon’s Marie
is a softer character, but no less intriguing. Initially, Marie is all effervescent
enthusiasm, caught up in the giddy excitement of A Secret Mission. It feels
right, given her youth ... just as it feels right when events inevitably force
her to re-evaluate. Le Bon ably delivers one of the film’s most heartbreaking
moments.
But it’s only
one of many. Interpersonal trivialities vanish once Ellis kicks his second act
into gear, which — with able assists from editor Richard Mettler and soundtrack
composer Robin Foster — builds to a furiously suspenseful climax.
Production
designer Morgan Kennedy does a magnificent job of re-creating 1940s Prague, to
a degree that feels spooky. Special effects supervisors Kamil Jafar and Nick
Drew must have rendered assistance in cases where actual locations — and
particularly distant city panoramas — no longer existed, but it’s impossible to
tell where physical sets yield to CGI artifice.
The most
spectacular set isn’t entirely a set at all: Portions of the Saints Cyril and
Methodius Cathedral — where a key firefight actually took place — are used for
the climax ... which must have given the actors and film crew more than a
little pause.
Ellis, a true
multi-hyphenate, also handles cinematography, employing a slightly grainy film
stock that adds verisimilitude, and often using hand-held cameras to convey a
sense of being “on the ground” with the story’s protagonists.
The result, despite a lethargic
first act, is a solid drama that spotlights a mostly forgotten chapter during
World War II. But summer seems an unlikely time for such a film to draw an
audience; I fear it’ll be lost amid noisier Hollywood fare.
Which would be a shame.
Fictionalized or not, Anthropoid
deserves an audience.
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