Skateboarding on the cinematic spectrum of punk to mainstream, Danish filmmaker Thomas Vinterberg no longer wears ripped jeans. Once the co-conspirator behind the Dogme 95 manifesto with Lars Von Trier — a raw, minimalist, limitations-driven punk-cinema movement ala the early White Stripes rules of only 2 instruments to find pureness —Vinterberg put away his DIY, impish, abrasive tendencies long ago in favor of something more refined. He’s continued with resonant art films (the magnificent “The Hunt”), but has evolved and matured too, taking on more mainstream work like 2015’s romantic drama “Far From The Madding Crowd.” And no, he hasn’t sold out, but like Jack White, he’s learning how to play the hits to bigger crowds while still maintaining street cred.
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That kind of changes with his latest, the earnest and well-intentioned misfire, “Kursk” starring the international cast of Matthias Schoenaerts, Léa Seydoux, and Colin Firth, a conventional, by-the-books based-on-a-true-story disaster melodrama. Of all the things a thoughtful filmmaker like Thomas Vinterberg is capable of, he’s hired to make what is essentially… a submarine thriller? Employed, is the key idea. Already-attached-to-star Schoenaerts (who starred in ‘Madding Crowd’) pursued Vinterberg to direct the movie and it shows. And by that I mean, “Kursk” is obviously not a personal work and because of that, the film suffers from an uninvolving, distance even if it’s competently made.
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Taking its early cues from “The Deer Hunter” — men bonding at a wedding, about to leave their wives to go on an adventure that will irrevocably change their lives forever — “Kursk” is inspired by the true story of the K-141 Kursk, a Russian flagship nuclear-powered submarine that sank to the bottom of the Barents Sea in August 2000 following some cataclysmic internal explosions. As two dozen sailors fought for survival aboard the crippled sub, desperate for a rescue, on the surface, back home, their families franticly clashed with bureaucratic obstacles and impossible odds to find answers and save them.
“Kursk” quickly becomes a triangle of military, government, and personal stories with the center of Matthias Schoenaerts as a senior naval officer trapped miles below the sea, trying to inspire courage in his seemingly-doomed men. At the other corners of the narrative are a very-pregnant Seydoux, playing the customarily thankless, worrying-wife waiting-by-the-phone role, and Colin Firth, in a limited, largely unrewarding role as the head of the British Royal Navy who also mostly waits by the phone to see if his fleet and nation can offer assistance (yawn).
But this is Russia we’re talking about, a secretive, never-transparent nation puffed up pride and corruption (newly-elected President Vladimir Putin was famously vacationing at his summer home on the Black Sea throughout the Kursk incident). A submarine twice the size of a jumbo jet, the Kursk was meant to be the “unsinkable” pride of the Russian Navy’s Northern Fleet, but as the government flagrantly cut corners on its military, sold off important rescue ships for money, it’s clear gross negligence is at fault. However, trying to avoid an international embarrassment, the nation, that could have easily saved these men by accepting the assistance of the British Navy, pretends to have the whole situation under control (cue the Marine foghorn sound of abject failure).
For a brief second early on, during the genuinely harrowing action set pieces where the submarine explodes and sinks, Vinterberg look as if he may be pulling a James Cameron and really stretching some wings of action, suspense, and thrills. But like in real life, bureaucracy gets in the way of the story, and the audience, like the sailors, is stuck inside this movie, waiting for some kind of relief.
And frankly, no kind of catharsis ever arrives and the movie totally whiffs the fundamentally crucial element of suspense that drives the movie. Even if you don’t know much about the story or the ultimate outcome, “Kursk” does a wonderful job of signaling to the audience, this is going to be a THRILLING last half of a movie about the tragedies of red tape and politicians trying to save face. So mid-way through the film, as it telegraphs the inevitable failures, ineptness and tragedies to come, it becomes acutely obvious where “Kursk” is going.
And the movie, if ever engaging up to that point, completely sinks into a game of dull, situational suspense and inevitability; the audiences forced to clockwatch for at least 45 minutes. Strangely paced and plotted, Max Von Sydow, representing the mendacious, evasive Russian government, shows up near the top of the third act for some reason.
Meant to appear as some kind of tribute to the victims and families of the Kursk, Vinterberg’s poorly strategized film barely justifies its existence. And sure, it’s a European mainstream thriller which means it’s smarter and not as coarse as the American version of the same story, but that doesn’t make its critical narrative breaches any less grave (and one can also read that as not as sensationalized, but duller). Worse, anyone could have really directed this, why did an artist like Vinterberg waste his time?
Two hours in length (that feels much longer), “Kursk” is meant to be a moving story of brotherhood, duty family and the tragedy of a nation that betrays those who serve them. But it’s ultimately one kind of long subtweet at Putin (which I suppose has some currency today), solely exists to tell you, governments generally don’t give a shit about the pawns in the game (duh) and reminds us that Russia, or at least its government, is really, really f*cking shitty. [C-]
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