‘Warfare’: Can You Make The Iraq War Apolitical?

The history of American imperialism is long and bloody, and the Iraq War is undoubtedly one of the most embarrassing chapters in this history. Entirely justified with manufactured consent, it’s one of the most evil acts in the history of the United States. As such, any film about this conflict would surely have to reckon with its immorality and close links to the violence of the US… right?

Such is the dilemma at the heart of Alex Garland and Ray Mendoza’s Warfare, a film based on a real, deeply traumatic afternoon in Ramadi at the height of the war in 2006 experienced by Mendoza and his squadmates. There’s no doubt that the film has a remarkable sense of craft, grounding the viewer squarely in the tension and fear of this one afternoon.

However, Warfare ultimately feels more like a historical document than a film with an ideological perspective. As such, outside of the effectively basic ‘war-is-hell’, the film has virtually no perspective on the war until its utterly befuddling end credits sequence. But in lacking a tangible perspective and focusing on supposed historicity, Warfare nonetheless reinforces a number of harmful ideas about the Iraq War either on purpose or by accident; it does this even through the simplicity of its title.

Though it’s Mendoza’s first time behind the camera, Garland is no stranger to an apolitical perspective when directing a film about conflict (see last year’s Civil War). Yet it feels distinctly different for Warfare: where his previous film could somewhat eschew politics due to its fictional future, Garland and Mendoza’s joint effort centres on a war that was as real as it was terrible. The documentarian approach, while stunningly created, feels questionable here given the American perspective (naturally, the Iraqis in the movie are given very little screen time).

Warfare is in conflict with itself

Such is the conflict at the heart of Warfare; Garland and Mendoza are clearly aware of the film’s incendiary premise, and gesture at times towards a statement on the war. The mission ultimately accomplishes nothing, the lives of both the soldiers and Iraqis seem disposable to the military and their suffering is immense – but again, the film only portrays these events and rarely digs into their implications.

As a result, Warfare is a work that simultaneously leaves little to imagination but only provides information in a vacuum. Its depiction of the Iraq War exists in a microcosm, only based on the horrific shared memories these men have endured, but the film never overtly questions why they’re experiencing said horrors to begin with.

This is made all the stranger by how undeniably effective the film is. Though I personally felt odd about “enjoying” the film, few cinematic depictions of war have been as tense and disturbing as this. Aided by a sensational cast of young actors like D’Pharaoh Woon-A-Tai, Will Poulter, Cosmo Jarvis, Joseph Quinn and many more, it’s hard to deny that Warfare feels intensely real, and it’s certainly not like Mendoza or Garland endorse this violence.

But for all the expertly crafted shots and pulsing sound design, I find it hard to recommend Warfare. Its commitment to realism is impressive, but raises uncomfortable implications about the Iraq War, made all the messier by a “thanks to the troops” title card at the end. Despite Warfare’s vague conclusion that war in general is horrible, its supposedly apolitical yet undeniably American perspective says more about the Iraq War than the movie itself.

★★½

Warfare is in cinemas now.