Despite the ambiguous “mission” being “accomplished,” over 4,000 American troops have lost their lives in Iraq since that famous banner adorned the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln waaaaaay back in the spring of 2003. And when the time comes to relay the devastating news to the surviving family, that honor falls to what is known as a casualty notification officer, who shows up at the home of someone they don’t know to inform this stranger that their loved one has met a violent end half a world away. The CNOs are an unseen, unsung reality of war—and one that stands front and center in Oren Moverman’s The Messenger, an insightful, resonant character study about two CNOs and the survivors they encounter as they carry out their unimaginable task.
Pandorum’s Ben Foster stars as Staff Sergeant Will Montgomery, newly returned from the Middle East a decorated war hero with the scars to prove it. For the last few months of his enlistment—and much to his obvious distress—Will’s commanding officer (that’s OZ’s awesome Eamonn Walker) assigns him the job of “bereavement notification,” teaming him with Desert Storm vet Captain Tony Stone (Woody Harrelson, in his Golden Globe-nominated role). Cinematic law dictates that this pair be of differing temperaments, and they are: Will is quietly edgy, trying to adjust to life outside a combat zone; whereas the older Tony is brash, chatty, and surprisingly needy. Tony instructs Will as to the rules of their mission, which include sticking to the unemotional script and refraining from contact with the next of kin. But you know what they say about rules.
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I don’t mean to make The Messenger sound predictable; as a matter of fact, the reactions of the families, from denial to gratitude to crippling despair, were shot on the fly and largely improvised, both adding to the tense immediacy in the wrenchingly long seconds after the doorbell rings and allowing for equally visceral response from Foster and Harrelson as the CNOs. The most recognizable faces among the survivors are Steve Buscemi, popping up in a small but powerful turn as a father whose grief takes the form of scary rage, as well as British actress Samantha Morton, playing a recently notified widow with whom the lonely Will forges a connection. The absurdly gifted Morton uses her pleading eyes and weary carriage to convey Olivia’s struggle with survivor’s guilt as she mourns a memory rather than a man.
In the ten years since his big-screen debut in Barry Levinson’s Liberty Heights, the versatile Foster has been slyly cementing his status, alongside the Goslings and the Ledgers, as one of the best of his generation. Foster owned 3:10 to Yuma with his gonzo portrayal of a psychotic gunslinger, and his subtly defensive vulnerability, a la Nicolas Cage, serves him well in a role that requires him to be an outsider in his own world. When he’s not holding his own with the masterful Harrelson as Will and Tony bicker and bond over what it means to be a soldier, Foster enjoys more serene moments with Morton in which their characters tentatively navigate the boundaries of their attraction. There’s one erotic, wordless interlude between Will and Olivia that some might think prolonged, but anyone who’s ever fallen for someone inconvenient will recognize that scene’s sad truth.
The Messenger is Moverman’s directorial debut; he previously penned the surreal Dylan flick I’m Not There as well as 1999’s superb Jesus’ Son (which also featured Morton). The Israeli-born Moverman co-wrote The Messenger with Alessandro Camon, basing the candidly observed script on his experiences during mandatory service with the Israeli Army. With the lone exception of the false drama found in the party-crashing scene, the results are challenging and refreshingly nonjudgmental against both soldiers and civilians, eternally unable to bridge the chasm between those who have endured hell and those who can’t even begin to imagine it.
((drop)) Few characters in all of literature are as beloved as the cocaine-addled narcissist known as Sherlock Holmes, so it was no surprise when purists got their knickers in a twist over director Guy Ritchie turning the great detective into a Victorian-era ass-kicker. The plot of Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes is irrelevant, centering around a bad guy and his supernatural hokum, but the film is big, loud, forgettable fun, its respectful charms lying in the lusciously industrial production design as well as Golden Globe winner Robert Downey Jr.’s flawless casting as Holmes. Dig his prickly camaraderie with Jude Law’s patient Dr. Watson—ignore Rachel McAdams’ all-wrong Irene Adler if you can—and let Downey’s arrogant sass tide you over until May 7: Iron Man 2!
The Messenger (R) screens Tuesday-Thursday at the Bear Tooth Theatrepub | Sherlock Holmes (PG-13) is now playing
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