C+ | A novice war reporter in Afghanistan acclimates to her new surroundings. Directed by Glenn Ficarra and John Requa Starring Tina Fey, Martin Freeman, and Margot Robbie Initial Review by Jon Kissel |
Glenn Ficarra and John Requa are a directing team with a handful of totally acceptable films to their names. The indisputable highlight of their careers is writing the script to Bad Santa, but behind the camera, they’ve got I Love You, Phillip Morris and Crazy, Stupid, Love and Focus, three watchable if unexceptional (I assume, with the unseen Focus) films. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot makes four. This Tina Fey vehicle, adapted from a female war correspondent’s book by frequent Fey collaborator Robert Carlock, takes advantage of its cast’s abundant talent by turning a script with modest aims into the kind of weekend-hangover film that the world can never have too many of. There was potential here for something greater, but unlike its lead character, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot is perfectly fine jogging in place.
Ficarra, Requa, and Carlock are presented with an opportunity to make a perceptive film about the war in Afghanistan, a war justifiably called forgotten by a character in 2003 and further away from the center of public discourse fifteen years later. There haven’t been any definitive cinematic accounts of it, especially compared to strong documentary films about Afghanistan including The Tillman Story, Armadillo, Restrepo, Dirty Wars, and The Kill Team. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot teases that it might be angling for the title of best Afghanistan war film when Fey’s character Kim Baker discusses why she came to an active war zone. She talks about how static and unmotivated her life had become, reporting on high fructose corn syrup during a time of historical significance, and her fellow journalists rightly mock her. The stakes of the people around her are dramatically higher than professional fulfillment, and for a while, I hoped the film would also not indulge the instinct to make the film about her and instead make it about the people whose stories she’s telling. Alas, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot gives itself a happy ending when viewed purely through the lens of what’s good for Kim Baker, making the film a kind of character study instead of one with much of anything to say about what’s now America’s longest conflict.
That disappointment aside, it’s fine if a film isn’t trying to be the end-all, be-all of a particular subject, as long as it’s saying something worthwhile about its narrower focus. If the people of Afghanistan and the soldiers fighting there are going to take a back seat to war reporters, what does Whiskey Tango Foxtrot have to say about war reporting? The opportunity is here for thorny moral dilemmas, but again, Ficarra and Requa pull their punches. Everything here either has an obvious answer or a pat resolution, or both. The incident with the well and the conspiracy of burka-ed women is merely an anecdote, agreed upon by every party in the know and the source of exactly zero conflict. It’s just a cool thing that happened one day. Iain’s (Martin Freeman) rescue goes off without a hitch. The soldier that Baker meets with at the end has an admirably long view and no ill will towards anyone, maybe not even the insurgent who planted the IED that maimed him. If the goal was to demonstrate a Hurt-Locker-style addiction to war, just talking about it isn’t enough. The cast is assembled based on their talent for humor and/or lightness, and the film doesn’t challenge them with anything too dark. For Baker, the years she spent in Afghanistan are practically collegiate, packed with alcohol and drug consumption, hook-ups, and graduating with a new career. Maybe some things are regretted, but everything’s fine.
As we’re sliding down the scale past profundity or well-observed specificity, we land at entertainment, something Whiskey Tango Foxtrot does best. I’ve spent the most time with Fey as Liz Lemon from 30 Rock, and it’s no surprise that she brings the same level of comic timing to Kim Baker, plus the added benefit of cursing. I don’t know if she’s capable of a purely dramatic role and am no closer to determining if she is after Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, but she can lead a semi-satire with no problem. There are enough other colorful characters and strong scenes to make the film a memorable experience. On the rare occasion that the film dips into seriousness, like the kidnapping rescue and the drone attack, Ficarra and Requa impress with a bracing amount of wartime gore and some Sicario-esque cinematography. While I don’t feel it’s perceptive on the whole, there are some subtle tidbits that are chewier than they appear, namely how it’s always the women who scold Baker for not adhering to the strict misogynist standards of Afghan society, an example of the human impulse to act like crabs in a bucket and drag each other down.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot might not have too much to say about much of anything, but it’s fun and well-acted with a pinch of darkness. It’s a War on Terror fairy tale about a white lady improving her life in one of the poorest parts of the world, where the Taliban are fools who measure pubic hair instead of stone people in soccer stadiums, where the largest roles for Afghans are played by two guys with ancestry in Southern Europe. I should probably be more annoyed with this film than I am, but on its own terms, this is a nice diversion about mistaking a bubble for real life. If it’s not quite empathetic or approaching truth, at least it’s entertaining. C+
That disappointment aside, it’s fine if a film isn’t trying to be the end-all, be-all of a particular subject, as long as it’s saying something worthwhile about its narrower focus. If the people of Afghanistan and the soldiers fighting there are going to take a back seat to war reporters, what does Whiskey Tango Foxtrot have to say about war reporting? The opportunity is here for thorny moral dilemmas, but again, Ficarra and Requa pull their punches. Everything here either has an obvious answer or a pat resolution, or both. The incident with the well and the conspiracy of burka-ed women is merely an anecdote, agreed upon by every party in the know and the source of exactly zero conflict. It’s just a cool thing that happened one day. Iain’s (Martin Freeman) rescue goes off without a hitch. The soldier that Baker meets with at the end has an admirably long view and no ill will towards anyone, maybe not even the insurgent who planted the IED that maimed him. If the goal was to demonstrate a Hurt-Locker-style addiction to war, just talking about it isn’t enough. The cast is assembled based on their talent for humor and/or lightness, and the film doesn’t challenge them with anything too dark. For Baker, the years she spent in Afghanistan are practically collegiate, packed with alcohol and drug consumption, hook-ups, and graduating with a new career. Maybe some things are regretted, but everything’s fine.
As we’re sliding down the scale past profundity or well-observed specificity, we land at entertainment, something Whiskey Tango Foxtrot does best. I’ve spent the most time with Fey as Liz Lemon from 30 Rock, and it’s no surprise that she brings the same level of comic timing to Kim Baker, plus the added benefit of cursing. I don’t know if she’s capable of a purely dramatic role and am no closer to determining if she is after Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, but she can lead a semi-satire with no problem. There are enough other colorful characters and strong scenes to make the film a memorable experience. On the rare occasion that the film dips into seriousness, like the kidnapping rescue and the drone attack, Ficarra and Requa impress with a bracing amount of wartime gore and some Sicario-esque cinematography. While I don’t feel it’s perceptive on the whole, there are some subtle tidbits that are chewier than they appear, namely how it’s always the women who scold Baker for not adhering to the strict misogynist standards of Afghan society, an example of the human impulse to act like crabs in a bucket and drag each other down.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot might not have too much to say about much of anything, but it’s fun and well-acted with a pinch of darkness. It’s a War on Terror fairy tale about a white lady improving her life in one of the poorest parts of the world, where the Taliban are fools who measure pubic hair instead of stone people in soccer stadiums, where the largest roles for Afghans are played by two guys with ancestry in Southern Europe. I should probably be more annoyed with this film than I am, but on its own terms, this is a nice diversion about mistaking a bubble for real life. If it’s not quite empathetic or approaching truth, at least it’s entertaining. C+
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