Director Samuel Maoz certainly doesnt make it easy on himself in his sophomore effort, Lebanon, choosing to magnify the 1982 Lebanese War through the eyes of a small group of Israeli soldiers inside a tank. That hes able to pull it off so brilliantly is perhaps less a testament to his skill as a director than his compassion as a human being: having based the film on his own experiences during the conflict, Maoz is able to transform it into a powerful and incisive commentary on dignity and suffering, and how war can sever our sense of humanity.
All of these are themes since time immemorial, but there is an astute edge to Maoz largely quiet film that gives it a freshness and poignancy. Our human eyes largely come in the form of Shmulik (Yoav Donat), newest recruit to a tank of soldiers (Shmulik is also Samuel in Hebrew, Maoz informs us in the accompanying DVD commentary). The complex prism of human conflict and emotion largely unfolds through his point of view, down the turret through which he views the carnage. Donats wide-eyed heart-rending performance puts a sympathetic human face on the chaos.
The tank meanwhile is a brilliant, and far from gimmicky, device in planting the audience in the shoes of its inhabitants, separated from those who need help by a metallic exterior and series of target crosshairs that become cracked and dirtied as the violence increases. Were planted in an awful reality where metaphorical underpinnings are rife, beginning with a shot of wilted sunflowers that should seem warm and inviting
but instead feels as doom-laden and chilly as everything else.
It also performs the same coup as The Hurt Locker, forgoing politics and focusing on a more immediate kind of emotional realism. Maoz clearly knows his influences, perhaps aping Elim Klimovs terrifying Come and See the most in terms of distancing us from the conflict (thereby making it more disturbing). The use of the subjective point-of-view down the target scope also calls to mind Michael Powells Peeping Tom: life and death captured in a lens. Hence we are passive observers, just as Shmulik is, to horrendous scenes such as a Lebanese woman grieving over her daughter, only to be pushed away by a solider resulting in her clothes being torn off. The genius of the film resides in the feelings it stirs up, constantly forcing us to look beyond the shell of metal and find that vital human principle.
That last sentence in fact also invites comparison to another influence: Das Boot, Wolfgang Petersens marvellous and tricky examination of humanity under duress. Maoz is pointing in much the same direction but more with the eyes of a poet: the bottom of the tank covered in rippling water, indicating approaching conflict; oil running down the interior after a direct hit, covering its occupants with muck; a mule apparently dead at the side of the ride, only to be revealed as alive on closer inspection, drawing its last. That sense of awful, poetic, abstract imagery strikes more of a blow, and speaks more about human nature, than a hundred rabble-rousing speeches combined.
Overall Verdict: Inspired by a rich heritage of war cinema but entirely its own creation, Lebanon is a horrifying but profoundly humane experience. No mere high concept effort, it instead quietly looks inward in every sense, emerging as the most haunting war film in a long while.
Special Features:
Audio Commentary with director Samuel Maoz
Reviewer: Sean Wilson