"Fury" Review

Though it lacks in genuine human emotion, Fury is as harrowing and well-acted as the very best war films ever made.

It also offers a refreshing look at World War II that isn't often seen in movies like this; Fury dares us to question American heroism. It left me with the feeling that war and violence conjure the worst of man's behaviors regardless of which side one fights for. At the end of the day, you're heralded as a "hero," but when you're placed in unfamiliar circumstances and forced to act in deplorable ways, how "heroic" are you really?

We follow a rag-tag platoon of five American soldiers operating inside an M4 Sherman tank during the Allies' final push into Nazi Germany. They're your classic "cross-section of humanity" bunch that typically populates these kinds of movies: Sgt. Don "Wardaddy" Collier (Brad Pitt), the platoon's fearless leader who's never run away from a fight; gunner Boyd "Bible" Swan (a gripping turn by Shia LaBeouf), the born-again type who frequently leads the group in prayer; loader Grady "Coon-Ass" Travis (The Walking Dead's Jon Bernthal), the hot-head of the group; driver Trini "Gordo" Garcia (Michael Peña), representing America's diversity; and assistant driver Norman Ellison (Logan Lerman), a timid newbie suddenly thrust onto the front lines despite being trained as nothing more than a clerk typist.

The crew operates like a dysfunctional family. They're all committed to one another, but they pick on each other like little kids - perhaps as a way of coping with the Hell they've been through.

Of course Pitt's character, in particular, will draw lots of comparisons to Lt. Aldo Raine, the down-home military man he played in Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds. To be fair, Fury is an entirely different kind of film than Basterds, despite the propensity both characters have for "killin' Nazis." In Fury, Pitt acts effectively with a kind of grizzled charisma befitting of classic, cinematic war heroes - recall Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan or John Wayne in The Longest Day. As such, the audience is hard-wired to root for "Wardaddy" every step of the way, no matter what lengths he goes to in order to get the job done, but it isn't the acting alone that makes Fury so good.

The action is tightly directed by David Ayer, who has experience with stories about men under fire (see Training Day, End of Watch). Combine Ayer's efforts with Dody Dorn's Oscar-worthy film editing, and you've got a master-class in staging and execution of set-piece action. Shots linger just long enough for maximum visceral impact. Despite an abundance of graphic, frenetic violence, I never felt overwhelmed by the movement. The viewer is constantly wary of what's going on. No shaky-cam or quick-cut editing here.

The action sequences truly are grit-your-teeth, edge-of-your-seat intense. I left the theater physically shaken by Fury's last 30 minutes, and I considered that a good thing. I felt like an adrenaline junkie eager for another fix, and as fun as that seemed, I now see my flaw. By making the violence so cinematically harrowing, Ayer indicts the audience in a similar way that his story indicts the mindlessly violent actions of the main characters. Despite Norman's scruples at the start, he seems to begin relishing in the fight as things progress. "Best job I ever had," he chimes in with his battle-hardened chorus. As an audience member, I could hear others in the theater wincing at some of Fury's grislier moments early on, but I can't imagine anyone leaving that theater unshaken or unmoved by the violent spectacle of the film's final act.

A-