Four stars. Rated R, for strong and disturbing war violence, and frequent profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.16.15
What price a man’s soul?
Clint Eastwood’s American
Sniper is the thoughtful study of Texas-born good ol’ boy Chris Kyle, who,
sparked by a flash of patriotism, impulsively abandoned an amiably deadbeat
lifestyle to train as a Navy SEAL. And not just any SEAL, as it turned out, but
a deadly accurate sharpshooter eventually credited with 160 confirmed kills
(out of 255 probables) during his service in the Iraqi war.
Eastwood — 84 years young, and
still going strong — hasn’t helmed many straight biographies during his lengthy
career; we can point to Bird and J. Edgar, along with White Hunter, Black
Heart, the latter a thinly veiled account of director John Huston’s off-camera
activities while making The African Queen.
Despite working with different
scripters, each of these films focused on the emotional and spiritual toll
exacted by a man’s career and lifestyle. It could be argued that Eastwood’s
magnum opus, in this regard, is the wholly fictional Unforgiven, particularly
when protagonist Bill Munny observes, “It’s a hell of a thing, killin’ a man.
Take away all he’s got, and all he’s ever gonna have.”
Scripter Jason Hall emphasizes
this notion throughout American Sniper, drawing heavily from the 2012
autobiography that Kyle wrote, assisted by Scott McEwen and Jim DeFelice. It’s
a helluva story on numerous levels, starting with the fact that individuals really
can make a massive difference, even within the military chain of command. Kyle
couldn’t possibly know how many scores (hundreds?) of American soldiers he
saved, during his career as — you have to love this eyebrow-lifting accolade —
the most lethal sniper in U.S. military history.
And yet, on the surface, Bradley
Cooper’s understated performance as Kyle eschews such celebrity; the man
repeatedly insists that he abides by the simple ethos of God, country and
family, and always in that order. On top of which, his responsibility as a
childhood guardian to younger brother Jeff instilled the importance of looking
after one’s own, and — later, on the battlefield — never leaving a man behind.
But Cooper’s work here is
deceptive, as is the layering that Eastwood encourages from his star. At first
blush, Kyle seems superficial and bland: determined solely to do a good job on
behalf of his fellow soldiers, and seemingly unmoved by the consequences of his
actions. But that’s a lie, of course, as becomes increasingly obvious during
the course of a military career that runs from 1999 through 2009.