ARTS& ENTERTAINMENT Age | Smith & Ferguson at the Movies: Jarhead—_Welcome to the Suck Steph Smith and a team of Steph Smith stunt-women and a Brandon Ferguson in a pear-tree JARHEAD NOVEMBER 4 WWW, JARHEAQMOVIE.COM we A WA A ® Smith Says: Iain H.R.W. Reevebuckle somehow got launched into a strange time warp and remains stuck in the 1920s; as soon as we figure out how to get him back he will continue these ever so fun reviews. Until that time, the lovely Mr. Brandon “Where's my mullet gone to?” Ferguson accompanied little old me to the picture show to see Jarhead. I must start out by saying that I love a good war film, and I love a good psycho- logical head game of a film. Jarhead was the perfect combination of these two ideas. It portrays what happens to the minds and lives of those trained to fight and kill when they are stranded in the desert, unable do either From acclaimed director, Sam Mendes (of American Beauty fame), Jarhead is the tale of life in Saudi Arabia during the Gulf War. Centred on the soldiers, their train- ing, and their subsequent duties in the desert, the film is based on the non-fiction book of the same name. From the soldier's first days in training camp to his trek out to the desert, from boredom and delusions to loneliness and isolation, the feeling of futility fuels this story. Starring Jake Gyllenhaal, Jamie Foxx, and Peter Sarsgaard, Jarhead was surpris- ingly well acted. Even with my incredibly biased opinion that Jamie Foxx is the most overrated actor in Hollywood, I felt he really shone. He was the epitome of what a staff sergeant should be. Jake Gyllenhaal has already proven himself to be a fabulous actor in my mind, but he really took this particular role to heart. At times he was funny, at times he was desperate, and at times he was downright frightening. But the most pleasant of all was the incredible performance of one Peter Sarsgaard. Intense and emotional, he was the shining star of the film. Not often does a tertiary character steal the show so completely, but he certainly did in this instance. If he doesn't get some type of award for this, I will eat yet another hat. (Hopefully, my diet will not end up consisting of mostly hats in the coming year.) The cinematography was also something to behold. Wide shots of the desert des- olation added to the emotional nature of the film and built upon the feeling of emptiness that the surroundings convey. It was the type of film that the audience cannot help but become engulfed in. Music in the film was almost perfectly used. It was music that would have been new or popular at the time with the exception of one song, that, while fitting, destroyed the film's continuity for me, as it would not have been written for another two years. Placing that fumble aside, you could not have asked for a more appropriate selection of music. In the end, it was one of the most atypical war films I have ever seen. One of the characters remarked at the end of the movie, “The war is over, and I haven't even shot my rifle.” It is not a movie about war, but about what happens to those trained for it, tossed into it, and told not to engage in it. On a scale of In the Army Now to Full Metal Jacket, 1 give it a Platoon. Ferguson Says: The day started off as innocently as most, yet somehow more ambitious. Get up; masturbate; take a shower; masturbate; drink coffee; smoke a smoke; make breakfast; masturbate. By noon I'd be spent. But today was different. Today, I'd go and get a haircut. My haircut was $7 (with a $3 tip, that's only ten bucks and you're a pimp) from the dude at Attention Barber Shop. Best haircut of my life. The man cutting my hair was Iraqi. He was cordial, kind, and even gave me a hot tip on a job. We chatted about Middle Eastern politics and hockey. Long story long, I ended up with a Jarhead haircut from a kick-ass Iraqi dude. Hours later, fate was funny enough to take me to Jarhead. Hoo-tah. The movie (Oh yes! A movie review is at hand...) was fantastic. Although various nay-sayers have since said that the whole thing's a rip-off of Fu// Metal Jacket, I dis- agree in that each war, as unpopular as it is, brings with it a new set of social preten- sions. In this conception of the first Gulf War, the airy-fairy notion of political pos- turing becomes paramount to the plight of the troops on the ground. As such, we watch the good ol! boys of the Marine Corps (“This is my rifle, this is my gun’’) pre- pare, ad nauseum, for a war that just doesn't have the common courtesy to start. These boys want to kill—let 'em loose. Perhaps the most poignant moments of the movie come at both the beginning and the end: At boot camp, a still leery and shifty-eyed Jake Gyllenhaal responds to yet another drill sergeant's query of what brought you to the Marines by saying, “I must have gotten lost on the way to college, sir.’ His face is summarily implanted into the wall. Towards the end, after a mostly futile attempt at war due to the Air Force's incredible ability to incinerate every family sedan on the so-called Highway of Death, a distraught Peter Sarsgaard loses it over a high-ranking official's decision to deny a kill shot. In the end, the overwhelming feeling I was left with was this: The army is a place where the not-so-right-in-the-heads and anyone who was sane, such as Gyllenhaal's character, come together to be rendered so steely eyed as to never again hold a woman, build a home, or change a diaper without first re-visiting death. The cinematography is epic; from small shadows on an incandescent white desert skyline to dark shadows illuminated by the backdrop of burning oil fields—the effect is almost as disturbing as me commenting on cinematography. The direction is slow and methodical, as was the boring plight of the marine's training, masturbating, train- ing, masturbating, etc. All in all, this isn't a movie that will make you stand up and say, “Fuck George Bush.” It's a testament to new-age warfare, the destruction that buttons can cause, and farcical use of humans as means to an end. ie