Captain
Phillips
(2013)
Captain Phillips is exceptionally well made (provided you are
not shakycam-phobic), edge-of-the-seat storytelling. On that level, it’s pretty
much what you’d expect from the director of the latter two Matt Damon Bourne films. But that’s also the
problem with it. A degree of topicality or political sensibility has informed most
of Paul Greengrass’ big screen ventures, and this seemed poised to follow suit.
Yet, on leaving the cinema, I was left puzzling over his reasons for adapting this
real life drama. He has turned out a gripping action movie but one that ultimately
amounts to little more than that.
When asked
what attracted him to this account of the 2009 hijacking of Captain Richard
Phillips’ container ship by Somali pirates, the director told Empire magazine “It’s the haves and have-nots, the big global
wheels that are throwing up winners and losers”. Given his statement of
intent and how tangentially (dare I say glibly) his film addresses this
subject, I am still left wondering
why he wanted to make it, or how he thought Billy Ray’s script would provide
viewers with food for thought in this area. It’s one thing to make a fictional
movie that provides incidental commentary on real world issues, but surely their "plucked from the headlines" choice brings an additional onus and responsibility? Is a particularly palpable
white-knuckle ride the best one can expect?
There has
already been much discussion on the ifs and maybes of whether the good Captain
(he must be good, Tom Hanks is playing him) made the right decisions. In part,
this coverage has been seen as a preamble to potential Oscar nominations
(during the canvassing period mud tends to be slung vehemently at pictures
purporting to base themselves on fact, but which deviate from the total truth,
despite their not being up in the Best Documentary category). It’s a
conversation worth having, but I’d suggest that any issues are as much to do
with the choice of leading actor as anything the film gets intrinsically wrong.
The
intimations that the captain may not
have made the best choices are scant, and sink without trace beneath Hanks'
intrinsic likability. This comes down to an issue of fidelity, and whether
Greengrass is more concerned with his message (the haves and have-nots,
remember) or attempting a character study of the captain warts and all. Given
that we spend the majority of the running time in Captain Tom’s mental space,
and the result most certainly falls on the side of heroic fortitude, I’d
suggest Greengrass isn’t interested in presenting a balanced or accurate
depiction of the man. I don’t think this need be a problem if the broader
message comes through. The Phillips of the movie is shown as a diligent fellow
concerned about possible attacks, who puts his crew through test drills. There are brief suggestions that he may not be
safety-first, as we see him scanning, and ignoring, emails warning of the
persistent piracy threat and arguing against steering a course clear of
(immediately) dangerous waters. But nothing on screen approaches the claims by
crew (11 of whom have brought a lawsuit against the shipping company) that he
was extremely difficult to work with and willfully and stubbornly disregarded
the imminent dangers (there were two, not one, brushes with pirates prior to
the boarding depicted in the movie).
Captain Tom
is hard-but-fair guy as seen, one who takes command decisively and shows a keen
psychological perception of his opponents. He’s the everyman hero we are
accustomed to from Hanks. I’m not suggesting Greengrass needed to perform a
character assassination on the guy, but one might expect an attempt to balance
the different takes; after all, his protagonist is also the co-author of the
book Ray adapted. The casting of Hanks seals the deal; there is no Captain
Bligh-esque doubt to be found here. Even the same script with a different lead
(a Tommy Lee Jones type, say) would have cast a less unequivocal eye on the man.
Presumably
the events inside the lifeboat are entirely from the real Phillips’ account (so,
unless the imprisoned Muse has been interviewed, again it is entirely
one-sided). During these scenes Phillips is a scared but cool-headed guy, whose
crafty intrigues repeatedly outmatch his opponents (poor, ill-thinking
impoverished fellows that they are). He offers to tend their wounds, and shows
remarkable fortitude in talking back to and manipulating them (even with the
prospect of ransoming him unharmed, it is a surprise that he is left off so
lightly; there are no physical reprisals for the treatment Muse received in the
engine room). It’s all a bit much to swallow. Even more so that Captain Tom offers
empathic olive branches amid his personal plight; this is true American courage
on display. He sadly reflects that Bilal is just a kid, reproves Muse for raiding
a ship that is simply attempting to get food aid to starving Africans, and even
has the gall to draw comparisons between their lots (they both answer to
bosses, you know; even viewed as a piece of manipulation on Phillips’ part,
this is pretty ungainly stuff). With all this, and by having heroic Captain Tom
exclaim, during an especially dramatic moment, that Muse is “not just a fisherman”, Greengrass
betrays that in fact this is straight-up Hollywood razzle-dazzle with a
thin veneer of verisimilitude attached.
Hanks is
very good, of course. The scene where he breaks down, unable to put his ordeal
into words, is a master class of an unmannered performance. A shoe-in for a
Best Actor Oscar nomination. But still, you are in no doubt that this is Tom
Hanks, a guy who makes cold-blooded gangsters warm and cuddly (Road to Perdition). You're instantly on
side with America's Mr Affable. Having him playing you is tantamount to movie
canonisation.
Rather than
Phillips, a more interesting conversation is just what the film thinks it’s
about. Does Greengrass really think
he is tackling the haves and have-nots subject with any degree of depth? It
strikes me that this is a response he has rehearsed, rather than one that went
in tandem with the story. Because, if it had, surely he would have felt
compelled to broaden his canvas, to invite discussion of the wider political
perspectives involved both in terms of the Somalis and the way the story turned
into a massive media event (one which was twerked to the max). The director
argues that this material “speaks to the
world”, Third World armed desperation feeding off First World wealth. But
does it really? When the US Navy (the cavalry!) shows up to save the day and
order is preserved? Without the background of why such an overwhelming show of
force was needed to save one man in peril on the sea (and at the direct order
of President Obama no less; now there’s a publicity coup), or how these
fearsome foreigners came to ply their piratical trade, Greengrass shortchanges
the viewer and renders his movie rudderless. It may seem obvious to say it, but
had one of the SEALs accidentally popped Captain Tom, we wouldn’t be watching
the Hollywood version.
There is a bit of nominal background to the
Somalis, but not enough that we have a real insight into their world (they
are cajoled into their high seas sorties; their former livelihood as fishermen has
been ruined by external plundering of stocks). We see volunteers for the
raiding party assemble on dry land, and the initial stages of the film intercut
with the embarkation of the Maersk Alabama. But we have also seen Captain Tom
with his ever-loving wife (Catherine Keener), discussing their kids. None of
these Somalis have families that we know of, and their humanity is dictated by
degrees of culpability. Muse (an outstanding performance from Barkhad Abdi) genuinely
appears to want the hijacking to go off without a hitch or casualties, despite
earlier having unhesitatingly bashed in the head of a fellow Somali
provocateur. Vying for authority is the unstable and khat-fuelled Najee (Faysal
Ahmed), physically and temperamentally intimidating. On the opposite end of the
spectrum is youngest crew member Bilal (Barkhad Abdirahman) with whom Captain
Tom strikes up an almost paternal relationship after tending his glassy foot
(aw).
Greengrass
apparently wants to strip his movie down as much possible to the events on the
ground (water). But this is a somewhat disingenuous decision when the back half
of your movie concerns the pumped up firepower of the US Navy bearing down
on these feckless Somalis, unlucky enough to mess with the greatest superpower
on the planet. One starts to ponder why this section is quite so extended,
particularly since a previously taut affair begins to sag under the weight of tension stretched that too far. If Greengrass was willing to truncate the
crew’s experience in the bowels of the ship from 12 hours to what seems
like about 90 minutes in the screen version (and no more than 20 minutes screen
time), surely he could have pruned the pursuit of the lifeboat too?
It’s not as
if Captain Tom’s conversations foster any great insights (The “Maybe in America” response to Tom’s
suggestion that there must be something else for the Somalis beyond fishing and
kidnapping is as robust an exploration of the have-nots as Greengrass can
muster). Do we really need to see the SEALs parachute to the rescue? Couldn’t
we just rest easy in the knowledge that they are magically there (one also has
to wonder at the casting director’s choice of the most steroidally-enhanced
specimens imaginable for the team; surely these guys would need to be light on
their feet?) Perhaps it’s just another of example of the legendary stature
Hollywood affords these men (perhaps excepting that 1990 Charlie Sheen movie…
no, dammit, let’s include it), as Greengrass finds himself fliming a virtual
recruitment campaign for the SEALs. Whatever the director’s intentions, this imagery
wholly plays into a validation of America’s “might is right” mentality; don’t
mess with even one of our countrymen or your lives are forfeit.
Having said
all this, I don’t think this movie is guilty of the willful ignorance of Black Hawk Down, Ridley Scott’s
jingoistic celebration of American military prowess (despite that affair being
nothing of the sort). There, the Somalis are faceless cannon fodder. Rather,
Greengrass is guilty by omission. If you talk the talk, but aren’t willing to
take the time to inform your audience, about what they are watching and why
they are watching it, it is fair game to level the charge of misrepresentation
and unfiltered mythmaking.
All of
which is unfortunate because, by every other standard, this is a very good film.
That is, every standard other than the one of failing to convey a message needed to justify making it in the first place. Greengrass uses handheld camera like no other director; if anything he has only
honed this skills, ensuring the action is always clear and coherent. The bare bones of plot are a natural fit for a screen adaptation. A lack of
familiarity with the narrative of the hijack had me expecting that the majority
would take place on the cargo ship, so the manner in which the crew turns the
tables on the pirates surprised and wrong-footed me.
I didn’t
think I would have to accuse Paul Greengrass of conveying the level of
understanding and piercing insight shown by Ron Howard to his true-life
subjects, but he’s partially missed the boat with Captain Phillips. At times this film sails perilously close to
being just another America versus the foreigners story. As an action/thriller
it is first class, however.
***1/2