THE HURT LOCKER

A bomb lies menacingly in the middle of a dusty Iraqi street. A soldier–a member of an elite squad of Americans who defuse bombs where- and whenever they find them–approaches it slowly, cautiously, decked out in enough protective gear to make Iron Man swoon with envy. Eventually, he reaches the device, takes a gander at the wires, and gets to work. Will he succeed in disarming it? Or will it explode in his face?

In Kathryn Bigelow’s wartime thriller, “The Hurt Locker”, that’s a scene that plays itself out repeatedly. We watch the agonizing minutiae of bomb disarmament over and over again–the search for wires, the hunt for timing devices–and thanks to Bigelow’s eye for detail, we feel we are practically in the line of fire ourselves.

The team is led by Staff Sergeant William James, an adrenaline junkie who is variously referred to in the movie as a “wild man”, a “cowboy”, and–well–just plain reckless. The fact is, he is all of those things, although James himself would probably claim that he is simply doing his job; indeed, when–late in the film–his second-in-command, Sgt. Sanborn, asks him why he does what he does, James can barely answer. He’s a daredevil, alright, but he can’t quite articulate why. What drives him? What compels him to tackle bomb after bomb, even when his men are screaming at him that the “kill zone” he has entered is too dangerous? He doesn’t know. Very likely, he doesn’t even care. When Sanborn questions him about it, he confesses that he has never even given it much thought–and, based on what we know of his personality, we believe him completely.

James is played by Jeremy Renner, who is never anything less than utterly believable. Equally as effective are Anthony Mackie as Sanborn, his sounding board, who begins the film by calling the sergeant a piece of “white trash”–Sanborn is black–but, like any loyal soldier, has his boss’ back all the way; and Brian Geraghty as their troubled young teammate, Spc. Owen Eldridge. In fact, the acting throughout the film is excellent, right down to all the Arab characters, a few of whom prove to be just as deadly as the explosives themselves.

But it’s the look and sound of the film, with its dirty, sun-baked streets, long, suspenseful silences, loud, piercing machine gun fire and sudden explosions, that we came away remembering. It’s a macho world that these men live in, and Bigelow–aided by her screenwriter, Mark Boal–captures it perfectly.

That Bigelow, who has helmed her share of action flicks, was able to craft such a thrilling movie is no surprise; that she was able to put together such a raw and honest war movie is a revelation.

Don’t miss it.

FILM REVIEWS by Stuart R. Brynien