A platoon of US Army Ranger recruits embark on a field exercise as the final part of their training, only to stumble across the vanguard of an alien invasion.
Netflix already has a War Machine. Specifically, David Michôd’s 2017 satirical comedy, lampooning the absurdity of warfare. This latest claimant to the title, however, is an absurd warfare movie, one that’s certainly comedic, if not always intentionally.
Referred to only by the number bestowed upon him by the military, walking meat mountain Alan Ritchson is ‘81’, a prospective US Army Ranger who signs up for the elite infantry force as a tribute to his deceased brother (a swiftly fragged Jai Courtney, who never makes it out of the prologue). Once enlisted, 81 is subjected to all the trials and degradations the Army can muster, here deployed for the sole purpose of demonstrating just how hoo-rah hardcore our numerical hero truly is.
Surly, solitary and stewing in PTSD, 81 sprints up hills while others jog, flattens the competition in hand-to-hand, then quite literally drowns himself at the bottom of a swimming pool to prove that air is for the weak. It’s all about as subtle as a bayonet to the goolies, but if the message still isn’t clear, he has DFQ helpfully tattooed down one forearm in huge letters: “Don’t fucking quit!”
The first act follows fairly standard boot camp beats, while making us peripherally aware of news broadcasts detailing a mysterious space rock that will soon pass close to Earth’s orbit (Chekhov’s asteroid, if you will). That nugget of information proves especially pertinent when the recruits are sent into the field for their final test, only to stray into the path of a bipedal alien death machine, hell-bent on their annihilation.
Delivers a respectable level of big dumb fun.
Quite why this extra-terrestrial terminator is so concerned with trying to off a small handful of trainee grunts is anyone’s guess — the movie opts not to try and parse the aliens’ inscrutable invasion strategy. But after an initial bloodbath, the lumbering contraption (resembling the bastard love-child of ED-209 and Megatron) doggedly pursues the unarmed recruits across hill and dale, unleashing its otherworldly arsenal in a sequence of surprisingly convincing, CG-heavy conflagrations.
Director Patrick Hughes (who also co-wrote with James Beaufort) is best known for the likes of The Expendables 3 and the two Hitman’s Bodyguard films, and attacks the various action sequences with gusto, all while displaying his Predator influences proudly. And while there’s nothing here approaching the tension or artistry of John McTiernan’s gung-ho classic, this ’80s throwback delivers a respectable level of big dumb fun as the relentless invader stomps around, whittling down its prey until the obligatory mano-a-mecha showdown.
There’s precious little here in the way of characterisation — 81 is essentially Jack Reacher with a gammy knee, the bulk of the squad serve mainly as (plasma) cannon fodder — and the dialogue is often more mechanical than the alien automaton. However, what War Machine lacks in sophistication, it more than makes up for in enthusiasm, staging a series of enjoyable encounters — a mountainside slaughter, a perilous river crossing, a frantic APC chase — that it’s hard not to get swept along with. And, as Ritchson has demonstrated across three seasons of Reacher thus far, there’s something inherently satisfying in watching a man who is 80 per cent bicep hit things with varying degrees of extreme force.
Deeply stupid, then, but unarguably entertaining, this is an unapologetic ode to those straight-to-video sci-fis that once dotted the shelves of Blockbuster stores across the land, only with a meatier budget and a similarly strapping star. So, if you find yourself algorithm-hopping on a Friday night and the idea of Jack Reacher bellowing, “Thermodynamics, motherfucker!” at a giant alien killbot sounds like it might scratch your entertainment itch, you could do far worse than take War Machine for a spin.
A brainless, bombastic, bomb-tastic action romp, this is absurd on almost every level, and far more fun than it has any right to be.
