Yann Demange

There is scarcely a glimpse of true color to be seen in ’71, apart from the occasional piercing pop of Jack O’Connell’s sky-blue eyes. Yann Demange’s fumbling, gripping tale of a soldier trapped behind enemy lines, it takes place in a washed-out landscape of grimy greys, dirty browns, and burnt-out fire-orange. Unfortunately, that sense of abiding murkiness extends to Gregory Burke’s screenplay, which assembles a motley bunch of Irish gangsters and does little to differentiate them. But even if ’71‘s storytelling is muddled, its execution is consistently riveting. Directing his first feature, Demange has made a pulse-pounding thriller that demonstrates a bone-deep understanding of filmmaking suspense. It’s scary to think of what he could do with a more attentive script.

The latter two-thirds of ’71 are imbued with a feverish, exhausting tension, but it begins as something far different: a touchingly humane platoon picture. O’Connell stars as Gary Hook, a young private in the British Army who’s going through the usual grueling training regimen, running great distances with a rifle slung across his back before crawling through the mud. But his commanding officers, rather than peppering him with the typical accusations of worthlessness (think Full Metal Jacket), preach loudly and encouragingly about the virtues of teamwork. “Help each other!” one CO barks as Hook and his comrades attempt to scale a mock wall. It’s a seemingly straightforward command that ’71, as it descends deeper into desperation, distorts and refracts with chilling ambiguity. Read More