While clichéd, Fury boosts itself through well-focused, intense filmmaking and a solid cast.
The plight and parallels of brotherhood in war is nothing new to the cinema. There are seemingly hundreds — maybe thousands — of movies tackling the subject in some way, shape, or form. As such, many aren’t necessarily Saving Private Ryan. Still, when done right, it does pave the way for powerful, compelling storytelling.
War is no stranger to extreme risks at every corner, so emotions are gained naturally through loss and reflection. Which is what helps writer/director David Ayer’s Fury through its familiar story and simplicity.
In April 1945, leading up to the final legs of the second World War, a U.S. Army M4A3E8 Sherman Tank crew, lead by Don “Wardaddy” Collier (Brad Pitt), trudges through Germany while the Nazi Party makes their final stands. The crew, including Boyd “Bible” Swan (Shia LaBeouf), Grady “Coon-Ass” Travis (Jon Bernthal) and Trini “Gordo” Garcia, just lost their beloved assistant driver to war, and find themselves enlisting typist Norman Ellison (Logan Lerman) into their ragtag team of missile-blowers.
Already outnumbered and outgunned, Wardaddy remains as persistent as ever, rarely letting emotions and hardships get him and his crew from the job at hand. Which is to eliminate as many German soldiers as possible in this time of hardship and stone-faced bravery.
For better or for worse, there is always a gritty, bare-knuckled honesty in Ayer’s work, either as a writer or director. He clearly has a knack for not letting sentimentally get the best of his work, so it’s just a shame that he lets clichéd storytelling do that instead. Whether in story form, dialogue or character motivations, a frustrating sense of predictability and familiarity persists throughout Ayer’s work. This is often what gets in the way of him being a truly good filmmaker.
Much like Ayer’s End of Watch, though, Fury succeeds almost in spite of itself. On paper, the film is littered with tired tropes. But through its confident and well-aided cast, and the enthusiasm and passion for the project from both the cast and director, it operates a sense of humanity. Something the movie needed greatly in order to win its way past its somber reflections and harden exterior, because when this movie is bleak, it is bleak.
Pitt is as reliably asserted as ever playing Wardaddy. While there will likely be many who compare him to his Lt. Aldo Raine from Inglorious Basterds, his Wardaddy is deceptively more humbled and worn-down in design. But the film’s best performances belong to Bernthal and, believe it or not, LaBeouf. Both men portray a strong demonstration of range in their inter battles of emotion, juggling the movie’s consensus and carrying its hard-earned message of courage and bravery in good, genuine stride.
In fact, every lead in the movie shines in their own little ways, expect for one key figure: Lerman. While previously demonstrating a talent for playing bright-eyed, pondering personalities in The Perks of Being a Wallflower and Noah, here he feels a little too confused and insecure in his motivations. While the latter can be attributed to his character, it seems that there’s a missing sense of mortality in his Norman. He seems less of a person lost in the stride of war that he is an actor trying to find the right articulation of what he should express.
Which is a bit of a problem to say the least, especially when the movie tries to make him the heart of its tale. Not helping this is the rushed nature of his character arc, going from a quiver-lipped boy to ace shooter with not much in-between. While the movie has a mildly muddled message about how anyone can become a killer or a threat when the stakes are this high, this doesn’t explain how he goes from never holding a gun in his life to being a perfect shooter almost overnight.
It’s a shame that the problems Fury has are this major. For when its good, it’s really good. The action is well shot, with handsome cinematography throughout from Roman Vasyanov and Ayer’s diligent, fluid direction never loses the audience’s attention. Additionally, Fury boosts itself as Ayer’s most assured film to date, with a strong understanding of pace and an undistracted focus to the story at hand. Editing from Jay Cassidy and Dody Dorn keeps the action at bay and the character development in good stride, while Steven Price’s soft score adds a haunting realism to all the violence and grimness surrounding these characters.
This is a war movie through and through, as Fury is never afraid to show the ugliness and damages these desperate times can hold. But, all too often, Ayer’s movie walks a fine line between criticizing war and celebrating it. Perhaps if he had more to say on the matter than how men get together in times of difficultly, it would have resonated deeper.
Nevertheless, for what’s available at surface value, Fury is a competently told, relentlessly solemn war film. For all its faults and simplicity, it knows what it wants to do, and does it with stern, unapologetic furiousness. Sometimes, it seems the most familiar kind of stories work for a reason.
