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The Chive


   The funniest, nastiest movie reviews anywhere.


If war is hell and you make a PG-13 war movie, does war become heck?  Yes, yes it does.  I've seen more blood on my dick after period sex than I did in all of Dunkirk.

That's not to say that Dunkirk isn't kill crazy.  Limeys, Frogs and Nazis get drowned, shot, exploded, crushed and many other kinds of dead.  They just do it with improbably little of the red stuff and, even harder to believe, without any scared shitless, shell-shocked, dying soldiers once uttering the word "fuck."

So helmets off to Christopher "Rollin'" Nolan for still managing to deliver dread, suspense and excitement in this kiddie-friendly WWII throwback flick.  People in my theater were on the edge of their seats.  Some gasped.  Some nearly jumped out of their skins at times.  I can only assume those people have never seen a movie before, were speeding their balls/tits off or are what the Greatest Generation would have called slow.

After Memento, Inception and Interstellar, everyone knows Nolan's got a big, dripping boner for fucking with the linear conception of time, and he does the same thing in Dunkirk, jumping back and forth and telling the three, interconnected stories skipping record-style.  Well, let me tell you something, Chrissy boy, Dunkirk would have been as good or better if it unspooled in boring, old chronological order.

And how much does Nolan hate Tom "Tom Club" Hardy?  Hardy's one of the best actors playing make-believe-for-money today, and Nolan keeps putting literal muzzles on him . . . for entire fucking movies.  You could barely make out Hardy's limp, British lisp behind the Bane bondage gear in The Dark Knight Rises.  Now in Dunkirk he spends 99% of his screentime with a fighter pilot's mask clamped over his gob.  Nolan, you ass.

When we're not dogfighting with Hardy we get to putt-putt-putt across the English Channel listening to Mark Rylance "Alot" sounding more British than one of the Queen's queefs.  The rest of the time we tag along with a group of random grunts as they do everything short of blowing Hitler to get off the beach and back home.  One of the grunts is played by Harry "Back" Styles, who I'm told used to be in some sort of band with some other boys.

At least it's good to know that it's not just Americans who lie to themselves like champs.  The Brits got their asses kicked, fucked, whipped and handed to them at Dunkirk, but to this day it's remembered with the kind of fondness usually reserved for first loves and successful threesomes.

Dunkirk, the gentle mist of war.

August 4, 2017