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Hacksaw Ridge (Dir. Mel Gibson- 2017)

“Please lord let me get one more” the mantra repeated by Andrew Garfield’s Desmond Doss as he carries what is left of his platoon half by half to safety. You can see why Mel Gibson makes a point of this utterance. Gibson, who in recent years has made the headlines for his personal demons, may have been praying for one more directorial success. It is very easy for his (rightfully) controversial opinions to over-shadow the promise he showed in the woefully forgotten Apocalypto and The Passion of the Christ ( bit too arch but a box office of $612 million in 2004 is not to be sniffed at). Many have hailed Hacksaw Ridge as his first step to being on the right side of people’s conscience in over a decade. 

Hacksaw Ridge tells the true story of Desmond Doss the first consecintous objector to win the Medal of Honour for his heroics in the Battle of Okinawa in 1945 saved 75 men. Portrayed by the with wide eyed innocence  of (the man with the most resilient hair in the industry) Andrew Garfield, we see what made this pacifist one of the most respected men in WW2.

 Garfield is supported by Vince Vaughan’s barrack chewing Staff Sergeant Howell, after Vaughan’s appearance in True Detective second season is trying to ignite his very own McConaissance ( reconnaVince..?). As well Hugo Weaving bringing gravitas to the conflicted role of Doss’s father suffering from the effect of PTSD from the Great War, showing incredible range in few scenes. 

With Garfield and Weaving’s performances we get nuisance and understated fine details, such as Garfield’s imitation of the real life’s Doss distinct lip movements. The same cannot be said for Gibson’s direction, which smacks you  with you both romantic melodrama and chunky squib splattered gore. His approach is so straight forward and masculine, it is the T-Bone steak to Garfield's steak tartar. This is not to say it isn't effective, Hacksaw Ridge does fall into some cliches, we get war torn walking ghosts fresh from the frontline looking at the fresh meat cadets, and forlorn veterans talking to grave stones. Tonally the film shifts from the warm amber glow of middle American sun through hanging branches of when Doss meets his sweetheart, none of which wouldn't be out of place in a Nicholas Sparks film, to the struggles of an enlisted objector in training with a small stop in court room drama. Until this point Gibson directs with purpose but with a sense that he is holding his punches. It is not until the film moves to aforementioned Hacksaw Ridge, we realises what Gibson was withholding.

With a suitable amount of dread built ( soldiers looking at bodies piled on trucks as they return from the front and shellshocked soldieries muttering of the sheer ferocity of the Japanese) when the suspense is shattered with gunfire thudding against meat on the ridge, Gibson unleashes the full armoury of the horrors of war. Limbs are severed and splintered with explosion, bullets make mere colinders out of soldiers and skin crackles and spits under flamethrower ignition. It is a relentless, brutal, visceral introduction to the battle the likes of which have not been seen since the Omaha beach landing in Saving Private Ryan, but it is incredibly effective. This is no Eastwood’s Battle Of Iwo Jima double, there is one side to the conflict. The Japanese are reduced to an monstrous faceless swarm of an enemy with little empathy played on their behalf, but thats fitting with the film.

Even though it is a chunky muscular film, it leaves you emotionally drained. Broken by the first attack you left face down in the crimson mud grasping for breath, so when the heroics of the film shine it is completely fine to shed a tear for the bravery of Doss. A rousing score and some obvious hero shots could have seemed forced but here they felt earned. Gibson splices stock interview footage of the surviving squad mates pre credits, to ensure that you are left unsure to whether to reach for a stiff drink or a handful of kleenex man sized tissues.