Civil War, Alex Garland’s drama imagining an internecine ding-dong in a near-future America, is many things: a terrifically tense action flick; a gore-stained warning of the dangers of polarisation and the lengths humans can go to when they think they’re on the side of right; a reminder of the often overlooked talents of Kirsten Dunst (pictured above); a daring piece of cinematic provocation, coming as it does mere months before a particularly fraught US presidential election; and a film that ever so slightly chickens out of taking a side when it comes to the real-life open wounds dividing the country.
But more than anything, when watching Civil War I was struck by how much it serves as a perfume-scented love letter to journalists. The film follows a group of journos – Dunst’s grizzled, Lee Miller-ish war photographer also named Lee, Wagner Moura as her daredevil Reuters colleague Joel, Stephen McKinley Henderson as New York Times veteran Jessie and Cailee Spaeny as green-about-the gills snapper Sammy. They are all documenting the dying days of a conflict between forces loyal to the president, and a rebel alliance of secessionists.
