9 hours ago
10
You’d be forgiven for skipping past Netflix’s gory, militaristic action thriller War Machine at this particular moment. There is, after all, an actual war raging on (is there ever a good time, one could argue?) but those behind the film would likely use its sci-fi bent as a differentiation defense. The war being raged here is not between the US and a foreign earthly entity but rather one from somewhere above, our umpteenth soldiers v aliens matchup. It’s a clear “if you like” column filler for fans of Predator, Edge of Tomorrow or, if they exist, Battle: Los Angeles, yet unlike the many films it’s clearly inspired by, the extraterrestrials here are designed to resemble machines that could have originated from another country rather than another planet, robotic whirring over tentacle slithering.
It gives the film a slightly generic sheen, like a cheaper Transformers spin-off, but it’s also thankfully devoid of the dreaded Netflix murk, that flattening filter that reduces most colours to grey, the film an acquisition from Lionsgate. Set in Colorado but shot in Australia from native writer-director Patrick Hughes, and granted a theatrical release there last month, it makes for a slicker-than-usual streaming premiere, an easy, drink-your-way-through-it Friday night option for those who wish to remain entirely unchallenged.
In another time, it would have been granted a wide big screen release and in another time, its comically muscular lead Alan Ritchson, of Reacher fame, would have been one of the biggest stars in Hollywood. The actor, who has found an unusual lane as the progressive man’s action hero (despite his brawn-first on-screen persona, he’s become an eloquently outspoken critic of all things Maga, much to the right’s fury) is an obvious Arnie upgrade, at 6ft 3in with the body of an over-pumped GI Joe, and so he makes for the obvious star of a Predator rip-off (the pair are co-headlining a Christmas comedy later this year).
It’s ironic that as the Predator franchise has trailed off into surprisingly diverse territory with leads who are either female, of colour or both, this remix has taken things back to its more conventional red meat roots – white, bro-y, gung-ho – with even a mercifully small role for Trump-loving sycophant Dennis Quaid.
In a cold open that’s almost parody-level predictable, Ritchson’s hulking soldier, known as 81, has been deployed in Afghanistan with his younger brother (Jai Courtney, going back to basics after breaking bad quite brilliantly in sharp shark thriller Dangerous Animals) and as they quip and talk about their future training to be army rangers together on the side of a dusty desert road, it’s not hard to guess that tragedy is about to strike. Rushing forward to present day, 81 is a pill-popping shell of the man he was before, but still determined to make it as a ranger, taking part in a brutal selection course designed to weed out those who don’t have what it takes. But after his team (including recognisable faces such as Stephan James and Keiynan Lonsdale) is sent into the wilderness, he starts to realise that something more sinister than the US military is hunting them down.
It’s also not hard to guess what’s coming, given the clumsy insertion of news stories about a falling asteroid and when the battle begins, it’s also not hard to guess how any of it is going to end. But surprise was never really part of the equation (even if I had briefly hoped Hughes had a twist up his sleeve during some earlier scenes heavy on suspicious looks) and instead, action is, most of which is at least staged effectively enough with some decently super-sized special effects that, for once, wouldn’t have looked out of place on a far bigger screen (I’d recommend turning the volume up at home too). Hughes keeps things slick and to-the-point even if some of his setpieces start to feel a little too reheated (a climb down a cliff just as the alien arrives is followed by a climb across water just as the alien arrives). I wanted a bit more personality from the alien itself which is a little too reliant on familiar “scan, target, destroy” tech over anything more creative or nasty, a sky high body count with no real impact. It all has the feeling of a sequel or a remake even though it’s allegedly original.
Ritchson is stuck in the thankless mode of “haunted” which makes it a performance that’s easier to compliment for his physical work over anything more emotional, his by-the-book boomerang journey from stoicism back to becoming “officially one crazy motherfucker” never really sparking alight. But like the film around him, he does what he needs to do, everything here just about serviceable for the moment yet never memorable enough for the moment after.
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War Machine is out now on Netflix
