(out of
four)
By David N. Butterworth
It's March 1991, George Bush is in the White House, the Gulf War has just ended, and
nobody–least of all the weathered U.S. forces who roam the arid, alien landscapes of
Iraq–has a clue as to why it even started.
Prior to the ceasefire, Saddam Hussein has appropriated and stockpiled anything of
value, creating mountains of limousines, Cuisinarts, and mobile phones. Into this scene
come four downtrodden GIs (played by George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg, Ice Cube, and Spike
Jonze; I guess Four Kings didn't quite have the same biblical bent) who are about
to see their first real taste of action.
Thus begins David O. Russell's Three Kings, a post-Persian War war satire framed
around a hunt for stolen Kuwaiti gold that would have John Wayne shifting uncomfortably in
his army fatigues. Unlike the Duke's 'rah-'rah action films, there's an innate pessimism
that pervades Three Kings; Russell's screenplay (from an original story by John
Ridley) is most effective in chronicling the randomness of war and the absurd situations
it creates, much in the spirit of Mike Nichols' splendid Catch-22 from 1970.
Take the surreal scene in which NBS reporter Adriana Cruz (a
surprisingly effective Nora Dunn) laments over the ecological aftereffects of man's
absolute folly at a watering hole littered with helpless, oil-soaked pelicans. Although
deftly played for laughs, it's a difficult scene to stomach.
That's true of a lot of the film. In his thirst for satire, Russell will occasionally
go overboard in his graphic depiction of the brutality of war–witness Wahlberg's
torture at the hands of a Republican Guardsman. But for the most part, Russell's
sleeve-worn political viewpoint and disturbed visual style–a frenzied motif of
grainy, hand-held camerawork that's almost monochromatic in its starkness–cuts to the
core.
Three Kings further showcases the director's ability to work something uniquely
rich and extraordinary from material that has been visited many times before. In a number
of ways this film shows a logical maturation over his previous two directorial efforts, Spanking
the Monkey and Flirting with Disaster. He's certainly working with a much
bigger budget this time around, but continues to wring strong performances from his
leading players.
Ultimately it's the director's confidence behind the camera that makes Three Kings
a powerful piece of filmmaking–as dry, bleak, and brutal as the barren Iraqi desert.
