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Civil War Isn’t the Movie You Think It Is

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Civil War Isn’t the Movie You Think It Is

Kirsten Dunst and Cailee Spaeny in Civil War.
Photo: Murray Close /A24

Americans sure do love to see their institutions destroyed onscreen. I remember back when it was sorta-kinda news that audiences applauded and cheered as aliens blew up the White House in Roland Emmerich’s Independence Day (1996). Since then, it’s been standard operating practice for blockbusters, particularly the disaster-y ones, to incinerate or otherwise defile a monument or an iconic government building. (We took a brief recess after 9/11 — “too soon,” etc. — but went right back to it once the cultural all-clear sounded.) Maybe because our institutions were deemed so secure and unchanging for so long, the idea that they might be ravaged by aliens, meteors, zombies, or Dylan McDermott became a naughty fantasy we were eager to see played out onscreen, over and over and over again. A variation on this kind of chaos has become all too real over the past few years, with more than 40 percent of the country in a 2022 poll saying they think a civil war is likely within the next decade. I’m not entirely convinced that the constant barrage of apocalyptic destruction on our screens is unrelated. We’ve been spectators to the fantasy for so long that we’ve come to imagine we’re participants in it.

Here’s another truth about repeatedly indulging in our fantasies: We become desensitized to them. What makes Alex Garland’s Civil War so diabolically clever is the way that it both revels in and abhors our fascination with the idea of America as a battlefield. No real monuments get done blowed up real good in this one. The spectacle this time is coyer but somehow all-consuming. What’s being incinerated in Civil War is the American idea itself.

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The film is set in what appears to be the present, but in this version of the present a combination of strongman tactics and secessionist movements have fractured the United States into multiple armed, politically unspecified factions. The president (Nick Offerman), we’re told, has refused to give up power and is now serving his third term; he’s dissolved the FBI, bombed American cities, and made a point of killing journalists on sight, or so we’re told. California and Texas have joined forces and become something called the Western Front. There’s also the so-called Florida Alliance. Smoke rises from the cities; the highways are filled with walls of wrecked cars; suicide bombers dive into crowds lined up for water rations; death squads, snipers, and mass graves dot the countryside.

How we got here, or what these people are fighting over, is mostly meaningless to Kirsten Dunst’s Lee and Wagner Moura’s Joel, two war journalists making the treacherous drive from New York City to Washington, D.C., for an exclusive, probably dangerous interview with the beleaguered president. Tagging along for the ride in their van are Jessie, played by Cailee Spaeny, a young, inexperienced photographer who aspires to a career like Lee’s, and Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson), an aging reporter who wants to go to the front lines in Charlottesville. Lee is vexed by both their presences. Jessie’s too young, and Sammy’s too old. The blood-soaked highways of the divided states of America are no place for either of them.

The journalists covering this war gather in hotel bars, get drunk, and loudly yuk it up with the jacked-up bonhomie we might recognize from movies set in foreign lands like The Killing Fields, Under Fire, and Salvador. They’re mostly numb to the horrors they’re chronicling. After the young Jessie is scarred by an early run-in with a man who threatens to shoot two unarmed, tortured, barely alive captives, Lee tells her that it’s not their job to ask questions or get involved: “We take pictures so others can ask these questions.”

One of the reasons Lee is such a legend in her field is because she has grown a protective shell around herself. She wants to get the picture. That’s it. She’s protective of Jessie but only to the extent that the girl will slow them down or upend their plans. “Would you photograph that moment, if I got shot?” Jessie asks. “What do you think?” Lee responds, as if the answer is obviously yes. But we also understand that Lee bears the psychological scars of what she’s seen. At night, alone in her bath at a hotel, she covers her eyes and revisits the horrors she’s photographed all over the world. “I thought I was sending a message home: Don’t do this,” she says of her earlier work. “But here we are.” Garland can be clunky and obvious with his dialogue, but Dunst can also make just about any line sound true. Her face tells one story, her words tell another; together, they bring this conflicted woman to life.

The film embodies Lee’s traumatized numbness to a degree. Garland knows how to build suspense, and he depicts astonishing violence with the requisite horror, but he also moves his film along in playfully provocative ways. After one ghastly sequence in which guerrillas shoot a weeping soldier, the director cuts to a montage set to De La Soul’s “Say No Go,” a song about a horrific subject that adds a peppy beat to the grisly images onscreen. (I was reminded of the way Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket cut to the Trashmen’s “Surfin’ Bird” right after a similar firefight.)

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Even the film’s episodic quality — it’s really just a ghastly travelogue through the war-torn Eastern Seaboard, with our protagonists confronted at each stop with some upsetting new incident — feels like a provocation. Part of shutting yourself off to such horrors involves being able to move past them, and Civil War, like its characters, glides past each monstrous vignette with unbothered brio. This can make the film feel weirdly weightless at times. Its characters are observers and nomads. If anything, they feel less invested in what they’re witnessing as the movie goes on.

Civil War’s lack of a political point of view, as well as its refusal to really identify the positions of its warring parties, has come in for some understandable criticism. But does any sane person really want a version of this film that attempts to spell out these people’s politics or, even worse, takes sides in its fictional conflict? (That sounds like it would be the worst movie ever made.) Garland does include flashes of real news footage from a variety of recent American disturbances, but he’s clearly done more research into media depictions of other countries’ war zones.

This is maybe his best idea, and why the film’s lack of political context feels more pointed than spineless: The conceit here is to depict Americans acting the way we’ve seen people act in other international conflicts, be it Vietnam or Lebanon or the former Yugoslavia or Iraq or Gaza or … well, the list goes on. In that sense, Civil War winds up becoming a movie about itself. Beyond the plausibility of war in the United States or the tragedy of such an eventuality, it’s about the way we refuse to let images from wars like this get to us. It’s more a call for reflection, an attempt to put us in the shoes of others, than a warning — not an It Can Happen Here movie, but a Here’s What It’s Like movie. It doesn’t want to make us feel so much as it wants us to ask why we don’t feel anything.

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The Breadwinner (Christian Movie Review) – The Collision

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The Breadwinner (Christian Movie Review) – The Collision

About the Film 

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On the Surface

For Consideration

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Beneath The Surface

Engage The Film

Family Dynamics

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  • Daniel holds a PhD in “Christianity and the Arts” from The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. He is the author/co-author of multiple books and he speaks in churches and schools across the country on the topics of Christian worldview, apologetics, creative writing, and the Arts.

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‘Blast’ movie review: An unlikely family packs a punch in this largely gripping but patchy film

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‘Blast’ movie review: An unlikely family packs a punch in this largely gripping but patchy film

A Karate master father, a homemaker mother, and a pharmacist uncle. The life of IT professional Nila (a fantastic Preity Mukundhan) seems quite simple and benevolent — she goes to her office, plays video games on her mobile, and spends time in her uncle’s medical shop, grudgingly looking at an old television set he refuses to let go. Nila’s life, to an unassuming viewer, may not seem anything too extraordinary. Still, one key piece of information reveals that perhaps this must be the kind of ‘family life’ backdrop that most assuredly camouflages a superhero origin story. Nila isn’t just any other ordinary human, and neither is that Karate master, homemaker, or pharmacist. Blast, directed by Subash K Raj, is a martial arts actioner pegged around one very potent Drishyam-esque idea — what if a family of martial arts pros is forced to step out of their normal lives to fight against injustice when nefarious men find their door? And director Subash comes off in flying colours by conceptualising a terrific set-up that makes use of this idea.

The beating heart of the story is Preity Mukundhan’s Nila, who avoids becoming a merely gender-swapped routine action hero. There’s real moral and emotional backing to why Preity is the way she is, and Subash allows her the time to make her case. Nila’s quest started when she was a child. As she fumed with rage due to a ragging incident, her father, Rajaram (Arjun), told her, “fight back if you are in the right” and “fight against injustice even if the victims are strangers.”

Preity Mukundhan in a still from ‘Blast’

Preity Mukundhan in a still from ‘Blast’
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

And the introductory scene to the now-grown-up Nila’s bravado is inherently gripping. A goon is sent flying into a rowdy’s den, and a perplexed henchman walks out to find the “man who hit” his colleague, urging Nila to step aside, because it can’t be a woman, isn’t it? Nila enters, and so does mayhem. In fact, one of the smartest choices Subash makes is in how he retains this inherent, normalised sexism in how the men see Nila throughout. In a later instance, a villain looks past Rajaram and Nila because they seem like an ordinary father and daughter. Where Subash takes a misstep is in how he treats a sexual harassment arc featuring Nila and her abusive manager; it makes way for a good masala cinema moment, but Subash laces it with humour, and it neither reveals anything new nor does it seem to care to extend the idea that the world Nila lives in is already calibrated to look down on women and feast on their vulnerabilities. Also, you begin to get slightly impatient as the film keeps revelling in the idea that a woman is bringing all the action — when will the conflict arise?

Blast (Tamil)

Director: Subash K Raj

Cast: Preity Mukundhan, Arjun, Abhirami, Vivek Prasanna

Runtime: 144 minutes

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Storyline: A fiercesome woman, along with her martial artist parents, vows to take down a corrupt syndicate

Nila constantly gets into trouble as she refuses to bow down in the face of injustice, to the pride of her father, but to the dismay of her mother, Neelaveni (Abhirami, too, can kick some bottoms). And it doesn’t take much to guess where the setting is headed. We simultaneously begin to follow the making of a Black Opal mining scam that an evil businessman, Varun Dhayalan (John Kokken), is spearheading. The project, which puts the hillside village of Keelakadu in danger, would bring in ₹7000 crores worth of minerals, of which a minister (PL Thenappan) takes ₹1000 crores. This whole arc operates like a rather convoluted spiral of villainy — helping Varun move the money needed to bribe the minister is a dreaded assassin named Abraham (Arjun Chidambaram), and helping Abraham is a gangster named Kirubhakaran (Pawan), and under him works a henchman whose friend is a low-life chain snatcher, Toby (Vinod Sagar), and Toby gets caught in a station where Inspector Arunagiri (Dileepan) is investigating Abraham’s identity, and under Arunagiri works a corrupt cop who wants Kirubha’s help to save his job. I guess you could already see where Blast might have derailed.

A lion’s share of screentime is accorded to explain each step in this often yawn-inducing villain saga, all while you are patiently waiting to see the tip of the whirlpool land on Nila’s doorstep and suck her martial arts family in. When it does, it is as explosive as you expect, at least until the intermission mark. While these unidimensional villains test your patience — only Arjun Chidambaram is written and presented with flair — you are left waiting for the next high moment, especially since Subash seems to have a knack for staging such mass-y scenes. But again, how much can Preity and Arjun do when the writing begins to dip into cliches and conveniences? After a point, Blast turns out to be quite tedious in the final act, making you wonder how a leaner, crisper, and more anchored screenplay could have been.

Arjun and Abhirami in a still from ‘Blast’

Arjun and Abhirami in a still from ‘Blast’
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

All that aside, however, what truly fascinates one is how, despite Blast being helmed by a male director and starring an action star like Arjun, it moves around its female protagonist, Nila, and every major decision is made keeping the two central women as opposing but counterbalancing poles — Neelaveni’s moral anchor prioritising the family’s peaceful life above all, and Nila’s moral anchor pushing them to be knights of justice. In fact, even in one of the most pivotal moments of the film, the choice to decide a villain’s fate is placed rightfully on Nila’s shoulders. It is great to see Arjun take a step back to let Abhirami and Preity shine, while Vivek Prasanna, as Nila’s pharmacist uncle, gets a Jailer-esque moment that is sure to become a highlight in his career. Helping all of them are the able technicians, be it the sharp, slick cinematography, innovative and adrenaline-pumping action choreography, and Ravi Basrur’s assured music choices.

That said, Blast is a Preity Mukundhan show all along, and the Star-actor knows how to pack a punch, alright! In a different film, where more ingenious ideas are spring-loaded for mass elevations, Blast would have truly become her career-defining big bang.

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Blast is currently running in theatres

Published – May 29, 2026 02:50 pm IST

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‘The Blow’ Review: A Gripping, Feverishly Performed French Drama Explores Incest With Candor and Emotion

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‘The Blow’ Review: A Gripping, Feverishly Performed French Drama Explores Incest With Candor and Emotion

For his bracing first feature, The Blow (La Frappe), writer-director Julien Gaspar-Oliveri chose a subject so bleak, many filmmakers wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. And yet this raw and grippingly honest incest drama manages to find a bit of light in the darkness, showing how it’s possible to live with the traumas of sexual abuse. Feverishly performed by newcomer Diego Murgia, who stars alongside César award winner Bastien Bouillon, Gaspar-Oliveri’s moving debut reveals that he’s not only a talented director to watch, but one who’s unafraid to tackle tough scenarios.

The Blow focuses on a disarmingly troubled young man, Enzo (Murgia), who tries so hard to find affection in the eyes of his dad, Anthony (Bouillon), he’s willing to ignore the worst thing a father could ever do to his own son. Enzo spends much of the film in a crushing state of denial, hoping against hope that love will somehow emerge from this mess. He’s so vulnerable that you can’t help feeling his pain — even when he winds up inflicting that pain on others.

The Blow

The Bottom Line

A powerful debut tackles a tough subject.

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Venue: Cannes Film Festival (Critics’ Week)
Cast: Diego Murgia, Bastien Bouillon, Romane Fringeli, Héloïse Volle
Director: Julien Gaspar-Oliveri
Screenwriters: Julien Gaspar-Oliveri, Claudia Bottino

1 hour 46 minutes

Per the press notes, Gaspar-Oliveri (who co-created the successful high school series, Those Who Blush) partially based the story (co-written with Claudia Bottino) on his own life, which seems evident given the emotional authenticity of his characters. Murgia’s portrayal of Enzo is the movie’s breakthrough performance, although Romane Fringeli, who plays the 19-year-old’s abrasive older sister, Carla, is also a standout. Bouillon, meanwhile, continues a string of strong turns (including in The Birthday Party, which screened in Cannes’ main competition this year) that began back in 2022 with Dominik Moll’s thriller The Night of the 12th.

The opening scene, lensed by Martin Rit in grainy close-ups, shows Enzo and Carla carelessly sleeping in bed together, their bodies subtly rising and falling with each breath. It seems like a blissful moment between the two siblings, who share a tight if volatile bond. But as the film progresses and we learn more about their childhood, that scene takes on a very different meaning: one in which proximity can breed both affection and contempt.

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With no parents in the picture and Carla moving out to a college dorm, Enzo’s whole life seems to be in front of him. It helps that he has a burgeoning and very loving relationship with new girlfriend Laura (Héloïse Volle), whose parents run a go-kart track that seems to be the main source of entertainment in their working-class suburb of Marseille.

But the state of independence Enzo has achieved at such a young age is broken when his dad returns home after a five-year stint in prison. A scene in which the two discuss Anthony’s future with a parole officer underlines to what extent Enzo has become the man of the household, hiring his own father to help sell kitchen appliances at local flea markets.

Bouillon creates a charming if menacing presence from the get-go, portraying Anthony as a father who’s been out of the loop for too long with regards to both family and civilian life, yet still wants to be in charge. In one sequence foreshadowing what’s to come, Enzo hides in a closet while his dad brings a woman home from the bar, witnessing some awkward and then off-putting sexual behavior. A latter scene in which the boy climbs in bed with Anthony reveals much worse, although it takes Gaspar-Oliveri a while to explain what exactly went down in the past.

What’s most moving about The Blow — whose French title can mean both a physical hit and a young hoodlum — is the way it charts Enzo’s gradual awakening from a kid who’s still too attached to his father, mostly for terrible reasons, to an adult who finally steps back and sees the truth, at which point the trauma is so overwhelming that it takes over. This happens during several explosive scenes in which Enzo lashes out at those who truly love him (his girlfriend; his sister, who wants nothing to do with their dad), searching in vain for someone to quell the suffering.

Murgia is a revelation here, playing a loose cannon who’s also deeply wounded, like a battered dog occasionally showing his teeth and sometimes biting those who feed him. The early moments in the drama, when Enzo is trying his best to please Anthony after he gets out of jail, offering to cook dinner or lending him a few bucks, will just about break your heart. Because deep down, Enzo knows that by getting closer to his dad, he’s also getting further away from his own recovery. It’s the constant push and pull between trauma and salvation that makes The Blow such a powerful experience.

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