Category: 1981


Can I admit that Foreigner are by all objective standards a pretty mediocre hard rock band from the late 1970s and early 1980s, and that they probably represented everything wrong with the commercialization and “pop”-ification of rock & roll but then also still say that I love the f*** out of these guys. Seriously, I love Foreigner. Put their greatest hits album on and I’m going to sing along and know the words of more or less every song on there. They’re cheesy as hell. The songs are cliche-ridden. They don’t really have a lot of technical mastery of their instruments. They don’t bring anything new to the table. But for some f***ing terrible reason, I still love Foreigner. I have three of their records on vinyl now, and today’s song comes from their hit album 4. Of course, I’m using “Jukebox Hero” because if you’ve never screamed along with this song, you’re lying or you’ve never heard it. Enjoy.

My Dinner With Andre


It’s a rite of passage for young intellectuals to take part in a seemingly endless series of seemingly endless high-brow conversations with our peers. We talk and talk but are we really ever saying anything? Late nights are spent in cramped dorm rooms with irritated room mates as you pass the hours talking about god, free will, politics, art, and the future. Some of my most important and self-actualizing conversations happened as a friend and I listened to good music and just chatted away about the meaning of life. And these conversations are almost always incredibly fun to be a part of. A chance to stretch one’s self intellectually can never be passed up, but would it be fun to observe two others having a hyper-intellectual conversation for two hours as they barely eat their dinners? That was the question Louis Malle (Lacombe, Lucien) posed with his groundbreaking, experimental film My Dinner With Andre, and the answer was a resounding yes.

My Dinner With Andre is one of those films where it is exactly what it says on the tin but somehow so much more. Louis Malle hired two real-life friends, struggling playwright/actor Wally Shawn (Toy Story 3) and wealthy, eccentric stage director Andre Gregory, to write a two hour dinner conversation between the pair and then perform said conversation. And that’s what they did. The down-to-earth Wally Shawn and the possibly insane (though likely just very, very eccentric and sensitive) Andre Gregory sit down for a dinner after not seeing each other for years and talk about every possible subject that leaps into their minds. The well-traveled and well-storied Andre dominates the conversation through the sheer force of his magnetic personality as he recounts stories of his experimental theatre groups, living with a Japanese monk, being buried alive as part of an elaborate “production,” and what it means to truly be “alive” in the modern world among a plethora of other subjects.


It’s difficult to assess this film in traditional critical language because the film lacks many of the hallmarks of conventional cinema and is truly radical and experimental in its approach to storytelling. That may be because the film has no true plot in any sense of the word. Wally shows up at the restaurant, eats a dinner with Andre, they talk, they leave. The end. The characters don’t really grow or experience any transformation. They just talk. Endlessly. For two hours. There are moments where Andre Gregory will speak without interruption for over ten minutes. It’s astounding. The closest genre this film could fit into is a character study except in a very literal sense of the word where we get to know these two characters through a lens of what they love and what they talk about. There is no “doing” in this film as is taught to be central to any supposedly great film.

Yet, My Dinner With Andre is a truly great film for the success it finds in abandoning any pretense of being anything more than it what it is. Written by two people who clearly love stage performances and the rhythm and beauty of natural sounding dialogue, My Dinner With Andre is the type of aural feast of dialogue that is usually only served by people like Aaron Sorkin, Woody Allen, or David Mamet. Unless you are the same type of crazy person that Andre Gregory apparently is, you’ve never had this exact conversation but you’ve been in conversations like it if you’re anything like me, and the way the film captures the intellectual back-and-forth between the two is spectacular. You probably need to be an intellectual yourself to appreciate the subtlety and beauty of the conversation, but if you can lose yourself in their tete-a-tete, it is wondrous to behold.


I am not exaggerating when I say this film is nothing but two very smart, cultured men talking for two hours. Even when Wally is walking to the restaurant/leaving it, you still his neurotic ramblings to himself as you get some brief background to the conversation to come/has just occurred. So, if that sounds unappealing to you, don’t watch this movie. It’s going to bore the holy hell out of you. It will be, simply put, unbearable. But, if you currently or in your younger days found yourself lost in the types of conversations that Wally and Andre delve into throughout their dinner together, you will be taken on a marvelously bold ride and be stunned by Louis Malle’s gumption to make this type of film. It’s a shame that more filmmakers don’t take these kinds of risks.

Final Score: A

Quick last note before this is done. I’m going to start including trailers for the films I’m reviewing at the end of the review. And of course, the one for My Dinner With Andre has to be really awful. But, whatever. It will hopefully give my readers an idea of what the film is about beyond my own written words.

Holy Fuck! I nearly forgot to do this. Also, Holy Fuck! How about them Mountaineers against the Texas Longhorns in a nail-biting victory. Got to show my hometown pride for a team that could very well go to the National Championship in college football if we remain undefeated the rest of the season. Add in the fact that Geno Smith is the clear frontrunner for this year’s Heisman trophy, and it’s been a long time since it has felt this good to be a Mountaineer! (Side note, I am a student at West Virginia University. And I’ve been at this school way too damn long). Anyways, back to my actual post. If there’s any question about whether or not the Clash are the greatest punk band of all time, there shouldn’t. With more musical talent and lyrical ingenuity than any of their peers (possibly combined), the Clash are everything a punk band should aspire to be. If for no other reason, they weren’t content to just sit around and make punk music. They also did rock, they did hip-hop, they fucking created ska more or less with their love of reggae. They also have what may have been the world’s first “twee”-pop sing with “Hitsville UK.” I had chosen this before the WVU victory, and the song is actually about British payola scandals. But WVU is turning into the Hitsville of Big 12 football so we’ll make it work. LET’S GO MOUNTAINEERS!!!!

All directors have to start somewhere. Some debuts are a little more impressive than others. When Terence Malick sprung the visual poetry and tragic love story of Badlands on the world, he was instantly marked as a man to watch (even if his output is minimal at best). I’m not sure anyone would have expected that the man behind Sugarland Express (Steven Spielberg) could have gone on to make something as magnificent and devastating as Schindler‘s List. Sam Raimi falls more into the Spielberg camp than Malick (not that he ever reached the heights of either). As director of the Spiderman franchise (especially Spiderman 2), Raimi proved that popcorn entertainment could have mass appeal while still touching your heart and mind. It’s a shame then that his debut picture, The Evil Dead, is more of a chance for Raimi to show off his technical prowess (which is apparent beneath the film’s many flaws) than a watchable movie in its own right.

The zombie horror genre (which The Evil Dead inhabits while simultaneously flirting with demon possession films) is rife with movies that are so bad they’re good. Because of how The Evil Dead II embraced an almost slapstick level of humor with its over-the-top gore and campy presentation, it’s enjoyable because it pokes fun at the innately awful nature of the B-movie (in much the same way as the Grindhouse films). If you took Planet Terror seriously, it would be unwatchable garbage, but because it satirizes the genre (while also being a perfectly serviceable B-movie), it works. The original The Evil Dead is more of a case of “It’s so bad, it’s meh.” The acting is a mess (and not always intentionally), the story is a convoluted bit of nonsense, and it fails to be scary whatsoever. However, an always endearing Bruce Campbell and early signs that Sam Raimi was a gifted director keep the film from being a total failure.

Five friends, led by the goofy and charming Ash (Burn Notice‘s Bruce Campbell), decide to go for a weekend away in a remote cabin in the woods .Things move around on there own even as they first arrive and one of the girls is momentarily possessed and forced to draw an eerie book in her bedroom. Yet, they still think it’s a good idea to stay here. After a mysterious force blows open a hatch leading into the basement, the group finds a book (and an audio recording) that appears to be sewn with human flesh. The audio recording reveals a scientist’s research into the occult and how a demon possessed his girlfriend after he read a specific phrase from the evil book (which is then read over the recording) which starts a frenzy of murderous supernatural rage when demons slowly but surely possess Ash’s friends and girlfriend as he has to fight tooth and nail to stay alive and to stay sane.

On virtually every front but Raimi’s camera work, the film is a disaster. There have been some retroactive claims that this was meant to be a horror comedy, but I call bull shit because this is clearly meant to be a somewhat serious horror affair, and nothing about the film is scary. It is certainly as gory as you can imagine (especially impressive considering the film’s miniscule budget), but the supernatural aspects of the film are laughable at best (even the most traumatic moment, a tree raping one of the female characters, is too campy and cheesy to make an impact). The acting is genuinely awful, and although Bruce Campbell shows at least some level of professionalism, it’s painfully obvious that the rest of the cast are just doing Sam Raimi a favor. It doesn’t help that the characters are given zero development (not even Ash), and the story is laughably thin.

Despite the film’s myriad flaws, Sam Raimi manages to pack the film (especially the early moments before he lets absurd levels of gore do the speaking) with tons of great shots. Whether it’s wide-angle lens close-ups, low shots, fast moving dolly shots, and great tracking shots, it’s obvious that Sam Raimi was an artist who was getting to play with a big box of toys he never had access to before. The use of smoke, shadows, and even lighting were well implemented despite the film’s shoestring budget. Raimi succeeds in creating a moody, eerie atmosphere, but when the zombies/possessed friends finally make their big appearance, he abandons any pretense of seriousness and goes for as much gore as humanly possible. His great camerawork draws even more attention to the film’s flaws because it reminds you what kind of film Raimi could be making.

I honestly have very fond memories of The Evil Dead II, but no matter how many times I watch this original, I can’t get over just how bad it is (and how actively grating certain sequences with a laughing zombie are). My sister watched part of the film with me and eventually had to find something else to occupy her time with because she thought the film was so bad. And it is bad. It’s almost irredeemably awful. Yet, those of you who can appreciate the technical aspects of film making will immediately mark Sam Raimi as a gifted auteur, and even if The Evil Dead doesn’t live up to the standard that the rest of his career set for him, it’s worth it to see young talent developing.

Final Score: C

The Police are one of the best rock bands of the 1980s. It’s pretty clear to me. The way they combined reggae, New Wave, and jazz was light years ahead of its time in predicting the ska movement (along with the Clash who combined the reggae with punk). Sting is one of the best songwriters of the last 30 years, and their ear for hooks is uncanny. I don’t know how many guitar riffs or synth lines by the Police that I have memorized. Way too fucking many. How can you not listen to Synchronicity and not have your mind blown? People that scoff at rock musicians who have a great ear for catchy pop hooks irritate the piss out of me, and I know far too many “serious” music types that think the Police were too “poppy.” So fucking what? Anyways, I wanted to choose another song from the 80s, this time the early 80s. And thankfully The Police’s Ghost in the Machine came out in 1981, and it includes one of my favorite The Police tracks, “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.” It’s 30 years old now and still as brilliant as it was in 1981.

La Chevre

When I think of French cinema, I think of the stylistic boundary-pushing of Jean-Luc Godard, the action films of Luc Besson, and films with sexual content that toes the line between artistic and pornography. I don’t usually think of slapstick buddy comedies. Well, leave it to my French roommate to show me that there is more to French cinema than high-brow arthouse films. I have two foreign roommates (one French, a guy, and one Japanese, a girl) that are both in their early 30’s. My French roommate and I had already bonded over Luc Besson’s La Femme Nikita, and since I often feel like I hog the TV in the living room of our apartment (even though it’s my television, I still like to share), I let my roommate pick a movie for us to watch last night, and he picked the French comedy La Chevre (which translates to The Goat), starring French film icon, Gerard Depardieu. It wasn’t the best comedy I’ve ever seen but if you’re a fan of slapstick and buddy cop films, you may find yourself enjoying quite a few chuckles thanks to La Chevre.

When the daughter of a wealthy industrialist is kidnapped (this is beginning to sound like the intro to either of my Girl With the Dragon Tattoo reviews), her father hires private investigator Campana (Gerard Depardieu) to find her. The daughter is catastrophically unlucky, and the industrialist believes that the only way they’ll be able to find her (since Campana spent 42 days in Mexico searching for her to no avail) is to pair Campana with someone as unlucky as the industrialist’s daughter. Thus, they find Francois Perrin (Pierre Richard), an accountant working in the financial department of the company, and the only person on the planet who may be as clumsy and accident prone as the industrialist’s daughter. So, Campana and Francois set off to Mexico to find the daughter while Francois causes a tornado’s worth of damage and injury to himself and everyone around him as the slowly inch closer and closer to finding the daughter.

I had never seen a Gerard Depardieu film before this (unless you count his smaller English speaking role in The Man in the Iron Mask), and while I’m not really sure what the big deal about him is other than his massive nose, he was a well-cast straight man to the more obvious comic relief of Pierre Richard. Pierre Richard reminded me of what Peter Seller’s Inspector Clousseau would have been like had Peter Sellers actually been French, and I can easily see where The Pink Panther films had an influence on this movie. Pierre Richard was quite skilled at more physical humor and despite the broad nature of most of the physical humor in the film, he also had a great deadpan delivery for most of his jokes. The movie didn’t always make me laugh, and at times, it felt like it was just meant to be a vehicle for promoting Gerard Depardieu’s tough-guy image that is his thing in France, but when it did hit the right notes, it was a great example of foreign slapstick.

La Chevre is far from the best French film I’ve seen, but it’s not the worst, and it certainly isn’t the most boring, but if you liked the buddy cop movies of the 1980’s like 48 Hours, Lethal Weapon, and Beverly Hills Cop, you’ll probably find something to like about La Chevre. Gerard Depardieu is a French film legend, and while I don’t yet understand why that’s the case and I wish that my first exposure to his acting had been in one of his more iconic roles/films, he did a good job and Pierre Richard was an underappreciated comic delight. My roommate tells me that the two were in a series of movies like this during the 80’s so maybe at some point I’ll watch a couple more of them. Anyways, if you only ever thought the French made serious movies, check out La Chevre to see that they can tickle your funny bone just as much as your artsy sides.

Final Score: B-

One of the most common themes of this blog is a recurring meta-narrative chock full of self-reflection on how my continually expanding knowledge base of movies and television has affected how I analyze these mediums and also, generally, a continuing trend to more in-depth and detailed critiques than the more shallow and vague ones that begin this blog. To wit, the first two films that I gave the rare movie score of A+ to (I haven’t given one since August for a movie) were Fellini Satyricon and Conversations with Other Women. The reviews for those films are shorter and less detailed than films like Breaking Dawn Part 1 or Scream 4 which I didn’t like at all (Twilight) or nearly as much (Scream). This all just comes with the amount of time and effort I’ve put into this blog. Wednesday, I worked the numbers and found I had written nearly 6000 words just that day alone, and I essentially do this blog just for shits and giggles. If you write that much every day (or more like every other day), you’re bound to learn more and more about entertainment analyses. The only problem with the heavily self-reflexive nature of my writing is that it often leads to reviews that are completely unfit for me to submit as writing samples when I’m trying to get freelance jobs as a film critic (I’m still praying [metaphorically since I’m an atheist] that I’ll get a break in that department). I’m not sure what any of that has to do with my review for Mel Brook’s cult classic, History of the World: Part 1, other than this was the stuff I was thinking about when I was taking a shower preparing myself to write this post. Perhaps, it relates to how when I was younger and saw this film for the first time, I thought it was one of the funniest movies of all time, and while I still find segments of it to be spectacularly hilarious, I also know now that some sections drag and Mel Brooks couldn’t make the laughs last the whole picture.

History of the World: Part 1 is a spoof along the lines of Mel Brooks’ earlier films like Young Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles, but rather than satirizing a specific type of film, Brooks sets his sights on the slightly more amorphous concept of the whole of human history (or at least those eras he specifically takes aim at). With narration played hilariously straight by Orson Welles (yes, that Orson Welles), the film begins by lampooning the iconic opening scenes of 2001: A Space Odyssey though it quickly delves into a more generic Stone Age comedy. A quick jaunt to Moses receiving the 10 Commandments, segues into the most involved section of the film which involves a Roman “stand-up philosopher” named Comicus (Mel Brooks) who is performing at Caesar’s Palace (complete with the casino’s moving walkway) for Julius Caeser (Dom Deluise) himself. With a little help from former slave Josevus (Gregory Hines), Comicus finds himself hunted by Roman centurions for upsetting the Emperor. My favorite section of the film (and possibly my favorite Mel Brooks set period) is a lavish homage to 1940’s Hollywood movie musicals set during the Spanish Inquisition. The last part of the film includes a massive flash-forward to the eve of the French revolution where a French peasant (Mel Brooks) is forced to be the doube for King Louis (Mel Brooks) to protect the king from angry revolutionaries.

The only Mel Brooks regular this film is missing is Gene Wilder because this is as fine a Mel Brooks cast as you could hope to achieve. As usual, Mel Brooks finds himself in a multitude of roles (Torquemada in the Spanish Inquisition being the best of the bunch). Madeleine Kahn is a scene stealer as usual as Emperess Nympho during the Roman Empire segments and the moments where she is surveying a group of half-naked centurions as her escorts for an orgy is comedy gold. Dom DeLuise is a riot as Julius Caesar, and his mastery of physical comedy makes me sorely miss the late comedic legend. Cloris Leachman has a small but funny part as one of the leaders of the French Revolution and it serves as a reminder that she wasn’t always the ancient (but hilarious) relic she is these days. John Hurt (the villain of V for Vendetta) has a small role as Jesus Christ at the famous Last Supper scene. Gregory Hines made his film debut as Josevus and he was an instant comedy smash. He made me laugh nearly as much as the seasoned pro Mel Brooks. Sid Caesar is great as the lead cave man in the early Stone Age segments. I could go on at lengths about the absolutely fabulous huge ensemble cast (including a Jackie Mason cameo), but I’ll just leave with the statement that this film’s cast is one of the best ever comedically.

For the most part (the French Revolution business a bloated and unfortunate exception), Brooks manages to keep the laughs rolling the entire film. While the only moments where I was seriously laughing out loud was the Spanish Inquisition number, I was still chuckling virtually the entire film. I can’t begin to state how brilliant that whole Inquistion segment is. The systematic torture and mass murder of Jews (my people are always getting our asses kicked) and Muslims doesn’t seem like it would be the source of comedy fodder, but Brooks (a Jew) manages to make it look easy. The notion that you can combine water ballet, a big Broadway musical number, and the Spanish Inquisition would never occur to a normal person, but thank god for Mel Brooks because it remains one of my favorite comedy memories of all time. Those opening Stone Age segments were also a hoot thanks to Orson Welles sandpaper dry delivery and Sid Caesar’s deliciously campy cave-man performance. While I enjoyed the Roman empire moments, it probably ran a little too long though the inclusion of Leonardo Da Vinci (who wouldn’t be born for 1500 more years) at the Last Supper was a great comic touch. My only real problem with the film was the French Revolution which contained far fewer laughs than the rest of the film and was an unfortunate way to draw this otherwise hilarious film to a close. I keep praying Mel Brooks will make one last movie before he dies and make it History of the World Part 2 so we can finally see “Jews in Space!”

For fans of classic comedies, this is a no-brainer. Mel Brooks is the undisputed champ of the spoof film, and much like Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, this film is a timeless artifact from this legend’s storied career. Not every joke hits and it wasn’t nearly as laugh out loud funny as I remember as a child, but it’s still refreshingly smart and witty humor from an early 80’s when that was unfortunately rare. Young Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles are the films he is most remembered for, but History of the World: Part 1 will probably always claim the special place in my heart as my favorite Brooks film. The only people that should avoid this film are those that are easily offended because as you can imagine from a film that makes light of the Spanish Inquisition, no group is safe from Brooks’ razor sharp wit. I don’t know when another Brooks film will actually end up on this list though I know there are several others still to be watched. I can’t wait to get there cause the man almost always puts out comedy gold.

Final Score: B+


When it comes to the quality of films that I review for this blog, the quality can be streakier than a poorly washed window. I might watch 4 or 5 movies in a row that I give at least an A- and the same thing could happen with movies that I give no higher than a B to. By this blog’s very nature, I am mostly watching award-winning and nominated films so the quality curve is obviously slightly tilted. Right now, I’m on one of those high quality streaks as this film makes three out of the last four movies I’ve reviewed films that have received the normally elusive score of “A” from me, and honestly, this film was easily the best of the bunch, and only it’s completely exhausting length kept it from the even more elusive “A+”. I just finished Wolfgang Petersen’s classic war picture, Das Boot, and clocking in at three and a half hours, it is officially the longest film I’ve reviewed for this blog but also one of the most thrilling and engaging.

Das Boot is a 1981 German film  that was originally a six hour long miniseries for German television that was edited down to a two and a half hour film and eventually re-released in the 90’s at its current length of 3 1/2 hours. It chronicles the trials and tribulations of the crew of a German U-Boat at the end of World War II as they suffer one near death experience after another. Deeply claustrophobic in presentation, the film examines the psychology and character of the very large crew that services the ship as they turn from a fresh-faced crew of young boys (some crew members excepted) to a battle-hardened and grizzled group of survivors. At the center of the film is the boat’s unnamed Captain played by the marvelous Jurgen Prochnow (Beerfest), who starts the film as a man haunted by the realities of submarine warfare and is broken down even further by film’s ending. Without wanting to ruin anything, the film has one of the most shocking and heart-breaking endings of any film I’ve ever watched.

One of the most fantastic things that the film accomplishes is that despite (for whatever odd reason it doesn’t do it) not naming the vast majority of the cast besides their rank on the ship, you get a very large number of compelling and complete psychological portraits of the crew of this ship. Lieutenant Werner starts out as an eager and bright-eyed journalist who is meant to feed the German propaganda machine by capturing one of the “heroic” U-Boats in action but he ends up a disillusioned and broken mess by the end of the film. One of the other named crew members, Johann, is a veteran of countless patrols but during one harrowing encounter he cracks under the nerve-wracking pressure of the Allied attack. You have the sheer will and determination of the Chief Engineer who saves the ship from certain doom. There is the young man who writes a letter every day to his French girlfriend despite knowing that he’s probably never going to see her again. You even have the the one member of the crew who is loyal to the Nazi regime instead of just loyal to Germany who comes to see the reality of his situation.

From a technical perspective, this film is practically flawless. As I’ve read elsewhere on the internet, they created a virtually perfect recreation of one of the German U-Boats that was actually used, and the extreme attention to detail and realism is apparent in virtually every scene. At no point in the film, did I feel like any thing was put in to look cool or stylistic. It served a legitimate historical purpose. Also, I have never watched a film that made me feel as claustrophobic as this film does. The ship itself was tiny and very crowded. There was hardly any room to sleep or walk, let alone maneuver and be comfortable. That feeling persisted through out the entire film. The sense of claustrophobia was practically smothering and I was in a more comfortable sized bed-room. When I finish this review, I may walk around my house a little bit just to get a sense of freedom. Also, the camera-work did a great job of really placing you in the action and tension of the film’s many moments when life and death hanged in a precarious and inherently chaotic balance.

The entire cast gave stellar performances, but special mention must be given to Jurgen Prochnow as the Captain. His transformation throughout the film is really something to behold. While he starts the film off hardened and a little beaten, he still has some life in him and the ability to smile and appreciate things. By the time the film ends, he is simply alive and surviving. Prochnow achieves this illustrious turn through a frightening sense of weariness. While I’m sure Petersen applied a lot of make-up to achieve the haunted look on Prochnow’s face, no make-up can achieve the power of his thousand-mile stare and hauntingly piercing blue eyes. When it comes to truly losing one’s self in a role, this is quite a powerful performance. While I would need more time to think about where it stands against the best male performances I’ve seen for this blog, I can definitely say that for the current 50 movie set I’m working on for this blog, Prochnow is sitting comfortably on top.

I mentioned this particular concept in one of my reviews for Band of Brothers, but it’s very difficult for a war film to be anti-war, because by its very nature, showing acts of heroism and bravery will inherently glorify said actions and therefore war itself. Francois Truffaut was the man to really analyze that concept. I can easily say that Das Boot is one of a handful of films that I can name that really is anti-war and in no way, shape, or form glorifies war itself. The over-riding theme of this film besides the battle for survival is that war is Hell. And in Das Boot, Hell might be an understatement. This film consists of suffering, suffering, and a little more suffering, and then it gives you Hell itself for its terrifying and bewildering final act. Much like The Deer Hunter, there is no glory or heroism in this film. There is simply survival.

I’m Jewish, and it’s going to have to take a great movie to make me cheer for Nazis. The sheer fact that Das Boot accomplishes this feat would by itself nearly make this a great film. The fact that it is easily the most compelling and authentic chronicles of the hellish realities of war since The Deer Hunter confirms this greatness. I realize that this review is one of the longest that I’ve ever written, but what else can I do for a movie that is of such epic length and ambition. I wish I could give this film an “A+” as it so clearly deserves this, and I bet I would give the mini-series an “A+”; however, 3 and a half hours is just a long time to sit through any film, especially one where there is a lot of down time. If you’re a fan of war movies that challenge your brain and emotions more than your adrenal gland, this is simply one of the best war films that I’ve ever seen, and you need to watch it.

Final Score: A