A brilliant new documentary demonstrates the US is making the same mistakes in Afghanistan as it did in Vietnam, writes Peter Bradshaw
The shadow of Vietnam, and the Vietnam war movie, is never far away during this outstanding fly-on-the-wall documentary about the US military experience in Afghanistan by the British photographer Tim Hetherington and the American journalist Sebastian Junger, famed for his 1997 non-fiction bestseller The Perfect Storm. For one year, Hetherington and Junger accompanied a single platoon on a tour of duty in the dangerous Korangal valley, in which the soldiers – horribly exposed, and with a knowledge of the terrain so far inferior to the enemy's that it was practically blindfold guesswork – had to build a forward outpost to establish their position. This they name Restrepo after one of their popular comrades, Private Juan "Doc" Restrepo, killed at the campaign's outset. This defiant tribute springs from a need to impose their collective identity on this alien and menacing landscape.
Restrepo Production year: 2010 Country: USA Cert (UK): 15 Runtime: 93 mins Directors: Sebastian Junger, Tim Hetherington More on this film The platoon is also required to promote an uneasy hearts-and-minds policy among notionally friendly locals. The soldiers must conduct regular, tense meetings with Afghans, lecturing them about the economic benefits they can bring with supposed transport projects, clearly suspecting every one of them of helping the Taliban, while the locals, though strategically deadpan, clearly resent the Americans. An early sequence shows US military helicopters bringing troops into Afghanistan, then switches to the soldiers' scared, vertiginous point-of-view as they gaze down into the valley in which they will be sitting ducks; it is a very "Nam" moment, and the tension is all but unbearable. You can't help but admire their bravery and that of Hetherington and Junger who have had to keep their nerve and keep filming. The nail-biting sequences are interspersed with interviews conducted after the event, which carry a concealed emotional charge. It is only from these that we can be certain which soldiers have survived.
I was reminded of an essay PJ O'Rourke once wrote about visiting Russia in the 1980s, at the height of the controversy over its invasion of Afghanistan. A Russian teases O'Rourke about his country's recent history: "Vietnam – too bad!" O'Rourke replies crisply: "Land war in Asia very bad – and some countries do not learn from an example!" These soldiers' Asian land war is wearing them down quickly. The Taliban are all around, able to get frighteningly close to the Americans' position, with impunity. Young soldiers are seeing troops being shot dead in front of their eyes. When Junger and Hetherington interview one of them about this experience, he breaks off mid-speech – and of course we, the audience, expect tears: it is a familiar moment in all types of documentary. But what is happening is more disturbing. The man has broken off in a kind of horror at remembering what he has clearly repressed until this moment. It is a flashback – that cinematic term widely applied to post-traumatic disorder. Restrepo is clearly a movie focused on the Americans' fear and suffering, rather than the Afghans', leaving the judgment up to us. It is a scary, moving and troubling film.
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Restrepo" is a war film unlike any that you have seen before. Partly, because most war films you have seen were probably not documentaries; but mostly, because it plunges you deep into the heart of war in a way that Francis Ford Coppola, Oliver Stone or even Kathryn Bigelow have not come nearly as close to doing. Not just any war, mind you, but the war of the moment, into what is unanimously considered one of the most dangerous regions of the conflict.
Beginning in June 2007, filmmakers Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington bunkered down with Second Platoon, making a total of ten trips to the Korengal Valley of eastern Afghanistan on assignment for Vanity Fair and ABC News. Capitalizing on the opportunity, they decided to piece together a documentary from the 150+ hours of footage that they obtained of the company. Upon satisfying their subjects that there would be no political overtones to the finished product, they were trusted enough to be exposed to the full reality of modern warfare in a way that few outside the military could ever hope to be.
The results are both fascinating and unexpected. Interspersed with the in-field footage are candid interviews of the soldiers taken from their base in Italy, which reveal a depth to their personalities that strongly encourages us to identify. Who wouldn't be disgusted, for example, on hearing that one's next posting would be in an area notorious for its high casualty rate, with an infrastructure so skeletal that one would be forced to burn one's own faeces in order not to alert the enemy? On the other hand, there are moments when the soldiers discuss their targets with such an alarming lack of humanism that one is inclined to view them as little more than black-hearted killing machines; until, that is, one recognizes that it is this mind-blocking mechanism that is the very proof of their humanity.
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Oh, the humanity. Restrepo, winner of the Grand Jury Prize for U.S. Documentary, is a documentary focusing on a battalion of U.S. combat soldiers stationed in the Korengal valley of Afghanistan in the summer of 2007. There is no criticism or political angle here. This is in no way an anti-war film, nor is it pushing any other sort of agenda. It is simply a wrenching tale of bravery, fear, camaraderie and sacrifice; sacrifice by the soldiers doing their duty, and more indirectly, the sacrifice of a nation sending its young men off to fight in its name. Restrepo explores the human side of war in a way that truly honors the men deployed to Afghanistan’s most dangerous military outpost, and hopefully, changes audiences’ perception of war forever. Read more about this powerful film after the jump…
The film opens with the excited, almost joyous deployment of the U.S. Army Battle Company, 173rd 2/503, Airborne Infantry on their way to the Korengal Outpost. Having been warned by peers that they are headed to the most deadly station in the country, the men are confident in each other’s abilities, perhaps to the point of arrogance. However, almost immediately upon arrival, the soldiers begin taking fire. This is an extremely hostile territory, with several attacks occurring daily. Before long, the battalion takes casualties, one of whom is PFC Juan “Doc” Retrespo, a soldier beloved to the rest of the men for combat skills, good humor, and sensitivity. As they advance their position and establish a new outpost a mere 800 meters from the main Korengal Outpost, they deem it Outpost Retrespo in his honor. Though the outpost is barely a kilometer away from the main camp, as far as support goes, it may as well be on the other side of the world. The troops persevere, patrolling the area, investigating Taliban threats, and attempting to endear themselves to the locals.
The film also focuses on a particular mission, dubbed Operation Rock Avalanche, during which the men fall under heavy fire and take more casualties than any other mission of their campaign in the region. As they approach the end of their deployment, the men remain resolute, but the war has clearly taken its toll on them all. The prospect of leaving Korengal — not even returning home, but simply being shipped out anywhere else, becomes the motivating factor moving them on.
Retrespo is possibly the most emotionally harrowing experience of the entire Sundance festival. Embedded throughout the run of the soldiers’ time in Afghanistan, directors Sebastian Junger and Tim Heatherton courageously keep the cameras rolling throughout the firefights, putting the audience directly in the heart of the battle. Surveying the scene, these shots capture everything from tactical orders and battle cries to the puffs of dust as bullets strike the ground at the soldiers’ feet. There is no doubt about precisely how near the danger is. Perhaps the most startling aspect of this is when explosions blow out the microphone, and the fighting takes place in stark silence, leaving viewers feeling as if they’ve just gone into shock.
When the bullets aren’t flying, the footage of the soldiers on their down time shows a group of men who all care deeply for each other and value the rare moments of peace. However, in spite of a great deal of playful roughhousing and razzing or stone faced pontification, it is impossible to completely hide the fear just below the surface of these men’s stoic facades. The film is almost entirely without music, except for a small handful scenes in which one private plays up-tempo yet mournful songs on the guitar that survives PFC Retrespo. He shows marked improvement as the film goes on, and his dedication to the instrument seems to be a tribute to the memory of his fallen brother.
In addition to the time the camera spends with the soldiers on the ground, there is also a great deal of interview footage, taken well after the events of the film’s subject, allowing them ample time for reflection. The lingering heartbreak at the loss of their friends seems to have placed a distinct sadness in their eyes, which will never leave them. Yet one of the soldiers poignantly observes, “I don’t want to not have these memories, because they’re the moments that make me appreciate all that I have.”
Once again, this film does not push a political agenda. However, that does not mean that it won’t leave one with a certain sense of outrage. Perhaps it’s because of confidential military reasons, but it is never clearly explained exactly what strategic value the Korengal valley holds. But in spite of advancing their position and honoring the death of their fallen friends by erecting this outpost, at the end of the film there isn’t a strong sense of accomplishment. That is certainly not intended to diminish the value of what they managed to do, yet when weighing the sheer trauma that these men suffered against the seemingly meager success of their mission, one is left with very conflicting emotions.
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Restrepo,” a documentary that sticks close to a company of American soldiers during a grueling 14-month tour of duty in an especially dangerous part of Afghanistan, is an impressive, even heroic feat of journalism. Not that the filmmakers — Sebastian Junger, an adventurous reporter perhaps best known as the author of “The Perfect Storm,” and Tim Hetherington, a photographer with extensive experience in war zones — call attention to their own bravery. They stay behind the portable high- and standard-definition video cameras, nimble flies on a wall that is exposed to a steady barrage of bullets.
Hanging out with the members of Battle Company in their hilltop outposts in the Korangal Valley between May 2007 and July 2008, Mr. Junger and Mr. Hetherington recorded firefights, reconnaissance missions, sessions of rowdy horseplay and hours of grinding boredom. Afterward, when the tour was done, the filmmakers conducted interviews in which the soldiers tried to make sense of what they had done and seen. There is nothing especially fancy or innovative here, just a blunt, sympathetic, thorough accounting of the daily struggle to stay alive and accomplish something constructive.
Any viewer superficially acquainted with the literature and cinema of modern war will have a sense of the peril and tedium that define a soldier’s daily experience, and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq have spawned a number of serious and well-made films, both fictional and not. What distinguishes “Restrepo” — which belongs with “The Hurt Locker” and “Gunner Palace” on the short shelf of essential 21st-century combat movies — is not only its uniquely intensive focus on a small group of men in a particular time and place, but also its relentless attention to the lethal difficulty of their work.
The setting is the Korangal Valley, a mountainous, sparsely populated area in Eastern Afghanistan that, at least at the time, was seen as a region of prime strategic importance. (American forces withdrew from the valley this April.) It was also an exceedingly hazardous place for American soldiers, with almost every day bringing a fresh engagement, to use the military term of art that basically means being shot at by the enemy and shooting back.
In addition to defending their encampments, the company’s men built a new outpost, and in the midst of regular skirmishes with the Taliban and other insurgents they went about the sometimes confusing business of trying to win hearts and minds. At weekly meetings with local elders and in more informal encounters, the soldiers, led by Capt. Dan Kearney, tried to overcome suspicion and resentment, and to persuade Korangal citizens that the American presence would bring jobs, improved infrastructure and other good things.
Like most movies of its kind, “Restrepo” avoids any explicit political discussion. The soldiers can’t wait to leave Korangal but are also determined to carry out their duties, and they don’t have the time or inclination to reflect on larger causes and contexts. But in their close observation of just how the war is being conducted, Mr. Junger and Mr. Hetherington provide plenty of grist for political argument. They also reveal one of the irreducible, grim absurdities of this war, which is the disjunction between its lofty strategic and ideological imperatives and the dusty, frustrating reality on the ground.
What are these guys doing there? It’s hard to watch this movie without asking that basic, hard question. Captain Kearney and his men address it in practical terms. Convinced that his predecessor badly mishandled the assignment, the captain sets out to expand the American footprint and improve relations with the local residents. The showpiece of his efforts is the outpost that gives the movie its name, which in turn takes its name from Pfc. Juan S. Restrepo, a medic who was killed early in the deployment.
Private Restrepo is seen in shaky video taken before his tour began — a playful, charismatic young man (only 20 at the time of his death) who describes himself as “loving life and getting ready to go to war.” As the movie goes on, the heartbreak latent in this simple declaration becomes more acute, as the soldiers deal with their fears and then, during a field assignment called Operation Rock Avalanche, the brutal realization of those fears. The filmmakers are circumspect in what they show, taking care to avoid focusing on the wounded and the dead, but the impact of battlefield death and injury has rarely been captured so unsparingly. And though it is composed in the prose of hand-held video, “Restrepo” has the spare, lyrical force of an elegy, inscribing a place for its characters in a tradition of war poetry stretching back to the epics of the ancient world.
What you come away with, above all, is a sense of the fragile, indelible individuality of the soldiers, whose names, faces and ways of talking are likely to stick in your mind for a long time. Some share their backgrounds — Specialist Misha Pemble-Belkin, for instance, reflects on the contrast between his pacifist, “hippie” upbringing and his violent profession — but others just speak matter-of-factly about stuff that happened in Korangal.
I don’t want to lecture, but as the war in Afghanistan returns to the front pages and the national debate, we owe the men in “Restrepo,” at the very least, 90 minutes or so of our attention. If nothing else, this film, in showing how much they care about one another, demands the same of us.
“Restrepo” is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian). It has profanity and combat violence.
RESTREPO
Opens on Friday in New York and Los Angeles.
Produced and directed by Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger; directors of photography, Mr. Hetherington and Mr. Junger; edited by Michael Levine; released by National Geographic Entertainment. In Manhattan at the Angelika Film Center, Mercer and Houston Streets, Greenwich Village. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes.
More than anything else, the film succeeds in placing us on the level of the soldiers, and as such, it falls more comfortably under the heading of "necessary viewing" than "entertainment." During their one-year deployment to the remote outpost named after a fallen member of their detachment, their struggles are as much taken up with the fight against long stretches of boredom - or winning the hearts and minds of the local villages - as they are with the detection and elimination of a largely invisible enemy. Indeed, some of the most affecting scenes involve watching the soldiers interact with the village elders, from the weekly "shura" that the captain holds to address their concerns, to the large commotion caused by the inadvertent death of a cow.
None of this is to imply that there is any shortage of combat. When the bullets fly, they do so thick and fast, and many of the worst perils of battle find their way on to the camera. Bravery, in these circumstances, is pared down to its unglamorous essence, as the survival of the unit demands that the fight continue, despite the death of a comrade, or the moral scars left by the taking of innocent lives. The human dimension is never omitted from the equation - it cannot be - and the conclusions one draws as a consequence are often as devastating as they are reassuring. In the same vein as The Hurt Locker, for instance, the heat of battle is conveyed as a powerful addiction for many of the soldiers, with one of them even describing it as "crack." One can only imagine how difficult the adjustment back to normal society must be for these men, who have dedicated their lives to fighting for its protection.
Ultimately, it is from this acknowledgement that a documentary like "Restrepo" draws its power. Unlike the mediated versions of war that we experience on the news or in Hollywood movies, this is war as it actually occurs: we are not permitted to flinch, or to avoid thinking about the sacrifices involved, when our leaders make the weighty decision to march our soldiers into battle.
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