(IMAGE: The Acoustic Film Company)

The Acoustic Film Company. 2021. Drama. 112 minutes. 

RATING: 3.5/4 

 

Okay, so, there’s a group of U.S. War veterans, right? And they take old uniforms, tear them up, turn them into pulp and make paper from them. Then they make art on the paper. That’s it; that’s the premise of This Is Not a War Story. Riveting stuff? At the risk of some truly awful wordplay, maybe not on paper. But with the right characters, emotional arcs, actors, and so forth, any premise can lead to a compelling journey. As the showrunners of every high-concept sci-fi series are wont to say these days, “It’s not ABOUT the [literal sci-fi thing], it’s about the characters, man! They ARE the REAL [sci-fi premise, but metaphorical].” So yes, this movie is indeed, in fact, about people who’ve been metaphorically shredded and pulped, trying to refashion themselves into something that can tell their stories.

Many of the supporting cast are genuine veterans, whose poems, frequently read aloud, are their own. The two characters who eventually become the leads, however, are actors. Will (co-executive producer Sam Adegoke, of the CW’s Dynasty) is a peer-to-peer counselor who just lost his latest client to suicide, for reasons he didn’t see coming. Isabelle (writer-director Talia Lugacy, Descent) is the newest addition to the uniform-shredding workshop, a Lynndie England-like former Marine MP disowned by her mother and sporting a large black widow tattoo. (The spider, not the Marvel heroine.) In documentary-like fashion, we watch them go about the process, which is pretty much what they actually do and how they do it.

Unlike in the days of First Blood, when Korean War veterans looked down on returning Vietnam troops, there are strong cross-generational bonds here. Survivors from Vietnam and every war since (or “occupation,” as some prefer) help each other out, both in therapy and pulping/painting/poetry. And by gradually hanging out with them and absorbing their vibe, the viewer feels jarred when all of a sudden it’s time for the art opening, and a bunch of hipsters looking for free wine and offering de rigeur thanks for service feel alien and stifling. As this and other war-adjacent films have pointed out, modern-day veterans prefer to be welcomed home than thanked for their participation in endless occupations they have trouble seeing the point of.

The reception proves a major turning point, spurring both Will and Isabelle to make a retreat. He heads to his family home upstate to be alone. And she, after a colleague’s attempt at play-fighting verges on assault, figures out Will’s address and takes the bus to show up at his doorstep one night. It’s awkward. She blows it off like she’s the one checking on him, when in fact she needs his help. And it first it feels like a gender-reversal of the incel guy awkwardly coming on to his disinterested female BFF trope. But to the extent they need each other, if indeed they do at all, it’s more complicated than anything romantic, and gets into a deep dive on how different people cope with trauma.

Lugacy, whose only prior major role was in Tom Noonan’s The Shape of Something Squashed, is a revelation as an actor. Her prior film, Descent, dealt with rape trauma, and she has clearly thrown herself wholeheartedly into the world of PTSD and its every manifestation. Whether or not she’s had actual military training, she makes her skill with tools and a backpack look like well-conditioned autopilot. She physically looks the part, and emotionally contains multitudes. The realization that she also shaped the unique hybrid of fact and fiction onscreen behind the camera as well makes a viewer want to thank her for her service. Addegoke’s role is less showy, but requires a stillness that’s arguably harder. In the case of both, the goal was to offer non white-male protagonists in a veteran story, while keeping the concerns universal, and not gender-specific sexual abuse or race-specific bigotry.

Rosario Dawson executive produced the movie, having previously starred in Descent. It’s clear that even though she’s currently having a ball playing superheroes in every major franchise, she’s not losing sight of the real people whom we send off to be heroes, whether they choose to be or not.

 

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