‘Allied’ film review: An Underwhelming Headache

Acting: 5/10

Writing/Plot: 2/10

Direction: 3/10

Production: 4/10

 

With the month of November drawing to a close, we are becoming deeply entrenched within Oscar season. Over the next couple of months, several anxiously anticipated, high-budget Hollywood movies will be selling out cinemas and hoping for Academy Award success. Critics from around the world seek only the best visual appetiser with their popcorn and soda.

Unfortunately for director Robert Zemeckis, his Second-World-War romantic-thriller Allied has brought nothing to table.

In fact, Allied is the person you reluctantly invite to your birthday party. The one who inevitably arrives too late, eats all the food, drinks all of the nice wine, pukes on your crystal-white sheepskin rug and leaves – with a bizarre sense of unfound entitlement.

Rather than explaining scene-by-scene exactly everything that was wrong with this emotionally-void commodity, let’s split it into three acts, around which the film seemed to be structured:

1. Foundation

The first section of the film takes place in Nazi occupied Casablanca in 1942. We see a conspicuous but composed Max Vatan (Brad Pitt) parachuting into a North West African Desert, where he is briefed by a chauffeur on his operation to assassinate a Nazi ambassador with the help of his co-agent and wife, Marianne Beauséjour (Marion Cotillard).

For the next 30 – 40 minutes, audiences endure what is potentially the weakest and laziest attempt of character building ever recorded.

It’s important I mention that this was in no way due to the actors on screen. Both Pitt and Cotillard delivered solid performances, given the quality of writing.

From their initial encounter at the beginning of the film to their first (of many) uncomfortable sex scenes – which we’ll touch on in a moment – neither of the protagonists’ characters develop in any way. So when they do land in awkward situations, you just don’t give a shit.

The majority of this act consists of dragged out scenes between both Pitt and Cotillard.

In any reputable film – professional of amateur – it is well accepted that these scenes exist to create a bond and develop the relationship between characters, as well as allowing the audience to connect and/or relate to the characters on a deeper level.

I first noticed the sheer lack of character development as I cringed my way through their first love making scene.

Both characters – secret agents – begin the film with the attitude that they cannot become emotionally or romantically involved with one another for the sake of the cause. And, as mentioned earlier, since neither character had shown any sign of a shift in attitude, this car-sex scene destroyed any sense of reality.

Any film freak can easily spot how this served as nothing more than production value.

Apart from the technical downfalls, the scene itself was prolonged and awkward. It felt like walking in on your parents and not being allowed to leave.

The first act ends with the successful assassination of the target, and in the climax of their escape, they fall hopelessly in love with each other and decide it would be a great idea to move to England and marry.

2. The Stuffing

I honestly could not christen this act more accurately.

Effectively nothing happens for about 45 minutes of what is intended to be the build-up and explanation of the film, otherwise known as the middle.

Even worse, when significant events did occur – which believe me was a rarity – they were tacky and cheesy.

To give an example, following the couple’s wedding, Beauséjour becomes pregnant. When she eventually goes into labour, the maternity hospital becomes the epicentre of an air raid during the London Blitz.

For whatever reason, Vatan and the midwives feel the best solution is to carry the whaling mother-to-be outside into the smoke congested streets. It’s all very tense and there’s a lot of shouting, which indeed fitted the situation.

However – despite the surrounding chaos of highly explosive bombs falling by the dozen – the scene becomes very silly very quickly.

About 15 passer-by’s stop in their tracks. Instead of fleeing for safety they form an audience and begin applauding the birth, meanwhile surrounded by a looming apocalypse.

The camera closes in on Vatan’s weeping face, and the sounds of terror are faded out by inspiring orchestral music.

It was at this exact moment that any suspended belief I had left in this picture was obliterated. I wanted to go home.

But what really baffled me about this first hour and a half of cinema was in fact the trailer.

Before the film’s release, the campaign team that ran its adverts decided they would prematurely spoil what would have been an interesting – albeit predictable – plot twist. When Marianne’s identity falls into question, the audience already know.

So my question is, why did the first two-thirds of the film even exist? There was clearly no effort to develop the characters and we knew what was going to happen. So why bother boring us with pointless dialogue and desperately obvious production effects?

3. The ‘Climax’

I use this term reluctantly.

The final act begins the moment Max is informed of his wife’s ulterior identity. Again, thanks to their marketing campaign, this came as no surprise. 

The final hour, which should have stood its ground as the most climactic segment of the film, was arguably the hardest part to watch.

It consisted simply of back-to-back scenes of desperately contrived suspense and tension, with absolutely no shock or revelation. Instead, viewers are rewarded with cheap twists and underwhelming, predictable answers.

Overall, it’s hard to say what exactly the film was going for. It seemed to lack a definite genre or character, and at times it felt like Inglorious Bastards had Tarrantino not directed it.

There were brief and seldom moments when I found myself indulged, but these were only met with disappointment. I would undoubtedly recommend avoiding this film at all costs.