Director: Steve McQueen
Writer: Steve McQueen
Stars: Saoirse Ronan, Harris Dickinson, Benjamin Clémentine
Synopsis: Follow the stories of a group of Londoners during the events of the British capital bombing in World War II.
Steve McQueen’s Blitz may only take place over two or three days, but it feels like a lifetime. That’s not meant as a dig towards the pacing of the film. Rather, it’s an observation about how the London Blitz is captured during McQueen’s latest feature. He opens the film full of panic and terror. There’s not a single moment for the audience to get settled in their seats. McQueen instead straps us into sheer horror after on-screen text delivers the context during which this film takes place: London in September of 1940. It’s a cinematic assault on the senses. McQueen and composer Hans Zimmer overwhelm our eyes and ears with a cacophony of screeching music, piercing sound, and thrashing visuals. The blazing building fire that’s roaring like a monster is only drowned out by the occasional dings of a metal-capped fire hose manically swinging all over the street from the sheer pressure of water being pushed out of it. All this time, bombs continue dropping from the heavens. It’s a hellscape that sees citizens desperately trying to seek shelter wherever is closest. When the shelters fill up, they turn to the underground tube stations. In this stunner of an introduction, McQueen’s film proclaims itself as a film that is unafraid to discomfort audiences immensely, while also providing the groundwork for a war film that’s far more complex and interesting than most of its contemporary counterparts. Yet even so, McQueen is a filmmaker that always finds a way to extract some purity out of the most heinous and upsetting of situations. That’s no different in Blitz, the Closing Night film of the 62nd New York Film Festival.
This may be a story set over 80 years ago, but McQueen’s script imbues both a timeless and timely nature to the film. One of the first things we hear Rita (an excellent Saoirse Ronan) say to her son is to just “wait until this is over… then life will get back to normal.” It’s practically a direct address to audiences. There is something that has gone horribly wrong if people feel compelled enough to send their children aboard trains out of the city, never knowing if they’ll see one another again. And that’s the exact drama that grounds Blitz on a personal level. George (Elliott Heffernan, in one of the immediately all-time great debut child performances) is being evacuated from London by his mother, Rita. It’s an unimaginable situation for both of them, or one of the countless other families who made the same devastating choice. And this scene is one of many in which McQueen makes the chilling choice of pitting humanity versus technology. As the train pulls away and Rita desperately tries to get in a few more words with George, the screeching of the steam engine drowns out practically all audio completely. The bombs being dropped nightly achieve the same effect with equally frightening volume. This is a film that feels destined to take home a major award for sound design. Its brilliance extends beyond merely being loud and fear-inducing. It conveys the sense that what’s occurring in these circumstances is cosmically wrong. The scales of life itself are being tipped in such a way that it may be impossible to ever recover from. For all the ways in which Blitz could be seen as predictable, McQueen never takes the standard approach to how he goes about telling this story.
In fact, the structure of this film, and the way it depicts the people living in London at the time, is a choice that feels like only McQueen would think to make. There are many jaw-dropping moments littered throughout Blitz. One, in particular, may have caused more shock amongst the audience than any other film I’ve seen this year. And instead of holding on it, McQueen barely provides an opportunity to register it. It’s a stark depiction of the ways in which war desensitizes us to tragedy. There’s just so much noise in the air that stopping to reflect on any single tragedy would cause our entire world to collapse in on itself. McQueen frequently employs cutaways in this manner, and he also heavily utilizes flashbacks alongside this style to fascinating effect. After a particularly shocking scene, we’ll often witness a memory or dream George or Rita is having. These flashbacks are the warmest parts of Blitz. They look gorgeous, and more often than not, McQueen saves his flashiest filmmaking techniques for these sequences. But once again, this isn’t merely an instance of a filmmaker taking the simple approach of showing life before the Blitz. It’s McQueen showing us all that was lost, both the beautiful and the ugly, and questioning the stakes of humanity itself.
Blitz is a film full of, and about, juxtapositions. War obviously reveals the heinous nature of humanity. But in many of the flashbacks McQueen crafts, he also pairs the stolen joy and stolen life with acts of true ugliness. There are systemic prejudices aplenty and racist remarks tossed around often. During times of immense tragedy, we look to the past in the hopes of remembering what we’re moving forward for. But what happens when the past provides a different evil? One that’s as blatant as any, yet casually accepted throughout much of society? It’s a fascinating approach to grappling with the unwritten histories of London, which is something that Blitz does very often. Take the joy that emanates off the screen when Rita dances with George’s father. It’s a necessary break from the constant tragedy of the rest of the film, but only until McQueen highlights the racism present in the hearts of some individuals outside the walls of a nameless club. Or how, as hellfire is being rained down from the sky, those hiding in shelters will still reveal their xenophobia and racist ideologies. What should provide some comfort in moments of fear instead reveal harsh truths not just about the world we inhabit, but those who inhabit the world alongside us. It would almost serve as an indictment on humanity were it not for the flip side of the coin McQueen makes sure to include. While these portions of the film are, at times, rather blunt or cliché, they’re essential. And it’s something that can be easily forgiven when learning how McQueen pulled all these scenes directly from the research he conducted to ensure the historical accuracy of Blitz.
At its very core, Blitz is a film that demands better from the people around us and the world itself. McQueen’s direction is potent, featuring bone-chilling imagery or moments that will cause your heart to swell. He’s one of our very best filmmakers, and his latest is no different in showcasing his mastery at capturing a devastating tone. One only needs to look at the extended club sequence which occurs in the final act of the film. McQueen takes us from the horror of a bomb falling in mid-air directly to the extravagance of a club. With a single cut, McQueen forces our minds to race at the implications of what’s occurring. Through a brilliant one-take, McQueen extends this sequence as long as he can. The editor tries desperately to keep up with the exciting choreography happening both onstage and in the crowd. The diegetic music from the horn section of the band is getting louder and louder. The lead singer is bringing the crowd to their feet, and all feels right in the world after nearly 90 minutes of tragedy. Through this entire sequence, McQueen is trying to ease our worries and knowledge of what’s to come. Yet that is only possible for so long. Because the real truth of the matter is simple: reality cannot be ignored. In a chilling turn, McQueen rips us away from this sequence, revealing it as another quasi-flashback of sorts. We push forward in the face of such horror to get back to moments of joy such as this sequence. But we cannot simply go on with the normalcy of everyday life while such pain is still being spread. There is a necessity in seeking comfort in times of distress, but it cannot blind us to the truth that horrors are occurring throughout the world.
We all hope to have a source of comfort in our lives. For Rita, it’s George. And it’s never more apparent than in the beautiful ballad sequence McQueen crafted for Ronan. Delivering an original song co-written by McQueen, master composer Nicholas Brittell and songwriter Taura Stinson, Rita sings into the BBC microphone for all of London to hear. She’s also surrounded by a sea of women, all fellow co-workers in the factory making munitions for soldiers on the front-line. The song feels as if it could have been pulled directly from the time period, and projects a real sense of solace. This is immediately followed up by one of Rita’s colleagues rushing the microphone to demand the government open more shelters in the underground stations. Again, McQueen is providing juxtapositions at every turn. People want to be comforted in such distress, but they also want their worries to be heard. They want their fears and their frustration to be met with a genuine sense of care from the powers that be. They want to believe that the welfare of their individual lives matters above all else. There may be moments of peace throughout Blitz, but on the whole, it’s a film whose imagery often frightens with staggering impact. McQueen is crafting images in a war film that are rarely, if ever, seen on the big screen.
Blitz is the Opening Night film of the 62nd edition of New York Film Festival.
