D+ | The true-life story of a Marine and her bomb-sniffing war dog. Directed by Gabriela Cowperthwaite Starring Kate Mara Initial Review by Jon Kissel |
Gabriela Cowperthwaite’s Megan Leavey is an example of the biopic that’s more interested with hitting plot points than finding the real person onscreen. If a subject had a life notable enough to get a film made about them, then those plot points should be interesting in and of themselves, as is the case in this story. There are givens in Megan Leavey, specifically that an intense bonding between a dog and its owner are going to be affecting. However in relying too much on cinematic reportage (this happened, then this happened), the characters in Megan Leavey feel like talking heads in a documentary, providing some background and a sense of stakes without ever drawing the viewer in. This is a bare-bones film, carried along by the raw power of the events behind it. Cowperthwaite gets the big moments right while skimping on any depth or nuance in the smaller ones.
Megan Leavey is a series of concentric circles around its protagonist, with each expanding circle getting thinner and thinner. The relationship between the titular Marine, played by Kate Mara, and her bomb-sniffing canine companion obviously anchors the film, because that’s the reason it exists. While I wish the film had spent more time on specifically how Megan convinces this surly and violent animal to bond with her, Mara does convey the depth of her love/obsession for Rex. Surrounding that is a series of relationships that lifelessly sit onscreen, empowered only by the strength of the actors involved. Megan’s estranged parents, played by Edie Falco and Bradley Whitford, are able to create the most recognizable characters, probably because they’re both skilled actors. Common gets some stoic conviction out of his stock sergeant character. As her mentor, Tom Felton’s Sergeant Dean is sliding down the scale, where her comrade/lover Corporal Morales (Ramon Rodriguez) is hanging out. Further concentric circles pay lip service to Megan’s girlfriends and the soldiers she serves with.
It’s a reasonable choice to backseat Megan’s professional life in favor of her familial one, but Cowperthwaite and writers Annie Mumolo, Pamela Gray, and Tim Lovestedt are satisfied with only scratching the surface. With their abilities, Whitford and Falco are able to snow the viewer into thinking there’s more to their relationships with Megan than there is. Whitford gives the dad a sadsack air of resignation and a quiet dignity and Falco gives the mom an overeager selfishness, but the parent-child relationship hasn’t progressed far beyond the surface dynamics of teen years. Doing minimal work with the family only serves to underline how much less is done with the military. There’s no care given to any military character, none of which feel specific or even have a defining character trait. PTSD is given one scene and then everything’s fine. The difficulty of insurgent warfare, where the pure and earnest curiosity of a little boy has to be viewed as a hostile threat, is skirted over, and Megan has no thoughts or conflicts about the war she’s in the middle of. Big decisions like why she leaves the service when she does or even why she signed up in the first place are elided.
If there’s little to no sense of camaraderie during boot camp and in Iraq, or interiority in general, there is some effective wartime filmmaking. While her accuracy leaves something to be desired, Kathryn Bigelow remains the master of tense bomb discovery and defusal. Cowperthwaite isn’t up to that stellar standard, but I was still impressed by what she captured onscreen. The centerpiece shootout looks to this layman like a coherent and thrilling depiction of an actual firefight. Most importantly, there’s a sense of geography to everything, such that it’s reasonably clear where fire is coming from and where the soldiers need to get to. Put supporting characters that I’m invested in into that scene, and it grows in estimation. It works as procedural filmmaking in that it makes a mysterious process a little more clear.
Despite its flaws and occasional successes, for human and dog stories, Megan Leavey achieves its goals. I spent a fair chunk of this film with a lump in my throat, even knowing that I was being manipulated with low-bar, elemental story-telling. Scenes of Megan and Rex being separated work, as does the big reunion at the end, as does the standard end credits of historical photographs backed up by Eddie Vedder. Cowperthwaite even shows some admirable restraint by not showing Rex’s death or funeral, as real Megan had less than a year with real Rex before he died. That kind of low-hanging fruit is going to be picked by most directors, and Cowperthwaite deserves points for skipping it. Megan Leavey mildly chokes me up with its tale of interspecies companionship, but a film needs to work on my head as much, if not moreso, than on my heart. C
It’s a reasonable choice to backseat Megan’s professional life in favor of her familial one, but Cowperthwaite and writers Annie Mumolo, Pamela Gray, and Tim Lovestedt are satisfied with only scratching the surface. With their abilities, Whitford and Falco are able to snow the viewer into thinking there’s more to their relationships with Megan than there is. Whitford gives the dad a sadsack air of resignation and a quiet dignity and Falco gives the mom an overeager selfishness, but the parent-child relationship hasn’t progressed far beyond the surface dynamics of teen years. Doing minimal work with the family only serves to underline how much less is done with the military. There’s no care given to any military character, none of which feel specific or even have a defining character trait. PTSD is given one scene and then everything’s fine. The difficulty of insurgent warfare, where the pure and earnest curiosity of a little boy has to be viewed as a hostile threat, is skirted over, and Megan has no thoughts or conflicts about the war she’s in the middle of. Big decisions like why she leaves the service when she does or even why she signed up in the first place are elided.
If there’s little to no sense of camaraderie during boot camp and in Iraq, or interiority in general, there is some effective wartime filmmaking. While her accuracy leaves something to be desired, Kathryn Bigelow remains the master of tense bomb discovery and defusal. Cowperthwaite isn’t up to that stellar standard, but I was still impressed by what she captured onscreen. The centerpiece shootout looks to this layman like a coherent and thrilling depiction of an actual firefight. Most importantly, there’s a sense of geography to everything, such that it’s reasonably clear where fire is coming from and where the soldiers need to get to. Put supporting characters that I’m invested in into that scene, and it grows in estimation. It works as procedural filmmaking in that it makes a mysterious process a little more clear.
Despite its flaws and occasional successes, for human and dog stories, Megan Leavey achieves its goals. I spent a fair chunk of this film with a lump in my throat, even knowing that I was being manipulated with low-bar, elemental story-telling. Scenes of Megan and Rex being separated work, as does the big reunion at the end, as does the standard end credits of historical photographs backed up by Eddie Vedder. Cowperthwaite even shows some admirable restraint by not showing Rex’s death or funeral, as real Megan had less than a year with real Rex before he died. That kind of low-hanging fruit is going to be picked by most directors, and Cowperthwaite deserves points for skipping it. Megan Leavey mildly chokes me up with its tale of interspecies companionship, but a film needs to work on my head as much, if not moreso, than on my heart. C
RSS Feed