Stop-Loss

The stop-loss policy is an involuntary extension of the term of service of someone in the armed services. It was instituted as law during the Vietnam War, and received its first legal challenge during the Civil War, but it wasn't used frequently until the Gulf War, which not coincidentally was the first U.S. war in the era of the all-volunteer army. Courts have consistently held that when someone signs up for the military, they are agreeing to accept this condition, but it is a kind of de facto draft, and an incredible "fuck you" to those who have decided to join up and risk their lives for their country.

This is the subject of the appropriately named film Stop-Loss, directed by Kimberly Peirce and written by Peirce with Mark Richard. The film begins with the main characters manning a checkpoint in Tikrit. They are fired upon and pursue the attackers, but are led into an ambush. This scene is a marvel of direction, editing and photography, and reminds me of the description of what war is like--long stretches of boredom relieved by moments of sheer terror. Some of the crew are wounded, some are killed, and they are all sent home on leave. Two of them, Sgts. Brandon King and Steve Shriver, are boyhood friends from Brazos, Texas, and are close to their date of discharge.

Following a welcome-home parade, Brandon (it's interesting to me that Peirce has named her protagonist this name, which was also the name of protagonist in her first film, Boys Don't Cry) finds out that he has been stop-lossed, and is expected to go back to Iraq. He is enraged, and when he goes to see his commanding officer he finds no sympathy. The president has ordered this, he has told. "Fuck the president," Brandon tells him, one of the more satisfying lines of dialogue I've heard in quite a while. Brandon then goes AWOL, and ends with Steve's fiancee, Michelle, on a road trip to Washington to see a senator who may be sympathetic to his cause.

This film is earnest, but what I responded to was its anger. Brandon goes from a good, dutiful soldier to a pissed-off rebel in a few moments, and it seems entirely authentic to me. His character seems to channel what a lot of people I know think, that this war is particularly stupid, and the treatment of the troops is deplorable. Where this film suffers is it's predictable structure. On the road trip Brandon and Michelle make a couple of stops in the obligatory rules of road trip pictures (these stops are coincidentally in the general direction of where they are going). They visit the parents of a fallen comrade, and the veteran's hospital where another is recovering from catastrophic wounds. These scenes are well-written, but feel too contrived.

Meanwhile, back in Texas, another soldier, Tommy, is slowly losing his grip. One of the worst aspects of this conflict is the way the psychological injuries suffered by troops are largely ignored. Tommy is played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who gives the best performance in this film and I'm quickly becoming convinced is one of the better young film actors around.

As for the other performances, well, I'm never been much a fan of Ryan Phillippe, who plays Brandon. I've found him to be a center of suckitude in several films. Let me put it this way: his role in Stop-Loss is the one I've hated the least. Channing Tatum is Steve, who is far more gung-ho and he's okay, as is Abbie Cornish as Michelle. It's hard to get past the confounding collection of accents, considering these characters grew up together, they have accents that are all over the map. Cornish, who is Australian, is no Kelly MacDonald, a Scot who nailed a Texas accent in No Country For Old Men.

A lot of the coverage of this film is about its dim box office prospects in a climate where audiences seem to not want to see serious films about the current war. It would be a shame if people don't see this film, either for political reasons (I'm sure Sean Hannity and Bill O'Reilly hate it) or from some kind of general ennui about the issue. After 4000 American dead and many times that in civilian dead, hiding one's head in the sand is not the answer.