In Dunkirk, Nolan falls for the same trap that ensnared him
in Interstellar – that Zimmerman’s background score is a substitute for
dialogues, and cinematographic grandeur, confounding nonlinearity and Bollywood-like
heroism are substitutes for good old character development. In cinema, dialogue
and character development still make for the compass, and technological
shenanigans only for the oars. Clearly, Nolan’s beliefs have changed since the
days of Following, Memento, The Prestige and The Dark Knight. While Dunkirk
thankfully stops short of Interstellar’s meme-worthy sappiness and grandeur, it
does have fuel-less planes shooting potent adversaries out of the sky. If
grandeur and victory of good over evil were the criteria, only the hypocritical
would admire Dunkirk while trashing Bahubali.
Besides the notion that it’s Nolan’s best work, the biggest
misconception about Dunkirk is that it’s a war movie. That’s wrong for two
reasons – Dunkirk doesn’t focus on war beyond its facade of guns and warplanes,
and moreover, it’s hardly a movie. A movie is an on-screen narrative that
begins at one point and ends at another – and sometimes at the same in case of
gems such as Pulp Fiction - passing through several points during the course of
its journey. Dunkirk eschews all attempts at a narrative. It just teeters at one spot like a drunkard. Wonder whether D(r)unkirk would be a more fitting name. In mathematical
parlance, Dunkirk is not a flow but a stock; a stock of numerous, unconnected images
that run past the viewer’s eyes in Nolan’s signature, though now tiresome,
nonlinear fashion one after the other, with a very predictable attempt at the
end to link them all together.
Dunkirk begins coherently by focusing on one desperate
soldier, a Frenchman, who violates orders to join ranks with the fleeing
British army. Except for the non-sequitur, awkward shot of the man taking a
dump on the beach, one would think fleshing out this narrative would have made
for a great movie, bringing out the travails of soldiers trapped in a merciless
war. Sadly, it soon collapses into multiple threads – a dog fight, a bunch of
British civilians ferrying to Dunkirk to take back their soldiers, and the
original one of the French soldier – each of which is reduced to nothing but the stock of images referred above.
Sure, some of these images are worth gaping at, and to those
who are easily impressed, Nolan will remain the most useful investment of their
movie budget. The scene depicting a German bomber’s attack on a British
minesweeper ship, and another of soldiers trapped underwater while the surface
is set ablaze by oil, are some of the greatest sensory treats ever. Certain
others – one, a soldier killing himself by sailing into the waves, and two,
hundreds of British civilian boats reaching the shores of Dunkirk in a
heart-swelling display of true patriotism - could have been made much more
powerful but feel half-baked due to Nolan’s rush to distort time and replace
individuals with larger-than-life, mind-boggling events. For the most part,
Zimmerman’s persistently edge-of-the-seat background score also seems out of
sync with what happens on screen.
In all fairness though, Nolan must be commended for historical
accuracy – the Stucka dive bomber makes its characteristic whistling noise
while diving down, and original models of warships and planes have been used
wherever possible. The only noticeable departure from real events is the
yellow-coloured nose of the German planes (in reality, this happened after
Dunkirk evacuation was over), though that was done only to allow clear
distinction for the viewer. Unfortunately though, such eye for detail is lost
on all but the WWII-obsessed viewers.
In Dunkirk, Nolan has come a long way from his initial days
of making tiny movies focused on a handful of characters. There are fighter
planes, naval destroyers, U-boats, and phantasmagoric imagery. Sadly, all this
has come at the expense of characters. I miss the Nolan of yore.
