A PRIVATE WAR: documentarian Matthew Heineman's first narrative feature opens

Those who saw Matthew Heineman's earlier documentaries, Cartel Land or City of Ghosts, well understand how effectively, near shockingly, he is able to place you, as well as the people whose stories he is telling, in the midst of horribly fraught situations in which the choices go from bad to beyond appalling.

Mr. Heineman, shown at left, has now directed his first narrative film -- A PRIVATE WAR -- an unusual bio-pic which brings us up close (and very personal) to a famous war correspondent, Marie Colvin, and the reporting she did from the middle of some of the most horrible wars of the end of this past century and those that occurred during the new one.

Using a documentary style, the filmmaker's achievement -- in addition to giving that wonderful actress Rosamund Pike (below) the best role she's had since Gone Girl (which she tears into so completely that, were there any justice to those generally frightful Academy Awards, she have another nomination sewn up) -- lies in placing us so firmly and relentlessly in the middle of the violence, carnage, desperation and despair Colvin is covering, that we feel we're as close to it all as movies can manage.

What's really interesting here is that Heineman, together with his cinematographer (Robert Richardson) and editor (Nick Fenton) instead of offering up lots of visual razzmatazz, goes more for precision and specific detail, as well for logistics and a sharp sense of space and place.

The director also concentrates as much on the results of the violence as on the violence itself -- showing us grieving women, parents who've lost their children, and those still in the midst of trying to save and/or somehow protect their offspring under the most difficult of circumstances.

All this works to demonstrate journalist Colvin's real mission: to show us the rotten results of war rather than glamorizing its excitement and violence, and not coincidentally, pointing the finger at heartless shitheel dictators like Syria's Assad, who would, has and will continue to sacrifice his entire nation's population in his bid to retain power.

The movie begins in the Syrian city of Homs, which would prove to be Ms Colvin's final assignment, then goes back to the late 1990s in Sri Lanka (three photos above), making its way via conflict after conflict until it again returns to Homs.

By this time, we've ascertained quite well who this unusual woman is, what she does, and why she must do it. (And, yes, you may decide that, buried within her along with all else, is something of a death wish.)  Ms Pike brings her to life in all her strength, sadness and oddball beauty (even with that eye patch she must use after Sri Lanka). We even get a good dose of this woman's alcohol addiction, too.

Heineman and his writer Arash Amel (whose screenplay is based on a magazine article by Marie Brenner) weave in Colvin's history, family background, sexual needs and lots more (some humor, too), doing this in short, swift scenes that help make her character as full-bodied as we could want, given the movie's 106-minute time frame.

In the supporting cast are some excellent actors, including Jamie Dornan (above, as the photographer she meets early on and continues to work with), Stanley Tucci (below, left, as her companion used as much for his intelligence as for his sexual expertise) and especially the wonderful Tom Hollander (two photos up) as her newspaper editor: kindly, smart, a little bit craven but mostly frightened for his intrepid reporter.

Colvin's story is a vital and important one, especially now, as so much that so many of us hold dear seems to be spinning out of control. I hope that audiences will rise to the occasion and go see this movie so that Academy members can't/won't simply pass it by.

From Aviron Pictures, A Private War opened last week on the coasts and expands this week to additional cities and venues, including here in South Florida  Wherever you reside, to find the theaters nearest you, simply click here, and then click on GET TICKETS in the task bar atop the screen.

Matthew Heineman's multi-award-winning and Oscar-nominated documentary, CARTEL LAND

TrustMovies is not certain why, but there does seem to be a hex on making an acceptable film about what some people call the "drug wars" and the country of Mexico -- whether that film be a narrative (like Oliver Stone's crass, slick and sleazy violence-porn Savages, Ridley Scott's ludicrously pretentious The Counselor, or the Denis Villeneuve's more recent starts-out-well-then-turns-ridiculous Sicario) or documentaries from Bernardo Ruiz's limited-in-scope and somewhat shallow Kingdom of Shadows to the film under consideration here: CARTEL LAND. Is this because the subject is simply too awful, crazy, ugly, impossibly huge and hydra-headed to even begin to pin down? Or perhaps it is due more to the fact that so much dishonesty, venality and betrayal is embedded here that any film tackling the subject runs the risk of embroiling itself in the very culture it depicts.

Whatever, this latest drug cartel documentary via director Matthew Heineman (shown at left), which has found its way into the five films nominated for Best Documentary "Oscar," though one of the better examples TrustMovies has encountered in all of these docs and narratives, still ends up making one question what has been left out of the movie as much as what is actually in it. The film blends two narrative strands, one of which involves an American-set group of para-military vigilantes who say they are trying to stop this violent Mexican drug war culture from entering our country (hello: It has been here for decades now) and is much less interesting and important than the second strand.

That would be the tale of a "noble," small-town Mexican doctor, José Mireles (shown above), who appears to have determined to rid the area surrounding his town of Michoacán of these drug lords and their crews. Why this is so necessary is explained early on, as townfolk tell of the slaughter of a particular family of fruit-pickers. We do not see this but only hear of it, but the telling is particularly horrible. (It was enough to prevent a good friend of mine from even continuing with the film.)

To achieve this riddance Mireles organizes a group of vigilantes who become surprisingly successful in their task. The police and elected officials, corrupt as ever, not only offer no help but actively try to dissuade these "Autodefensas" from bearing down on the particular drug cartel involved in the Michoacán area. So far so good. But when an accident involving a plane crash derails Mireles, and the good doctor turns over the running of the Autodefensas to a cute little gnome-like fellow known as Papa Smurf, things begin to fall apart.

How and why we see glimpses of,  and this is enough to make us question the reliability of just about everyone involved -- including the filmmaker. Director Heineman managed to get enormous access to Mireles and his Autodefensas, so much so that we finally discover things about this good doctor and loving family man that begin to call into question quite a lot. As usual, it appears that power corrupts, and the more powerful a man or group becomes, likewise the more corruptible.

Given what Heineman has chosen to show and tell us, we can't help but wonder what more damning tidbits he may have left out. Clearly, Mireles had control over what he allowed the director to see, hear, and maybe report on, so we wonder why we're discovering certain things but not some others. Ah, it's a conundrum, and the question of who is betraying who consistently crops up.

As for the American set of vigilantes, early on its leader explains that the Southern Poverty Law Center has labeled his group "extremists" -- and than proceeds to unintentionally explain why this is true. While it is clear that the filmmaker wanted to show us vigilantes on both sides of the borders, it seemed to me that those on the American side were much less interesting or productive (but perhaps more trustworthy?) that those to the south.

As usual with these drug movies, any kind of understandable truth proves so elusive that the viewer's patience eventually wears thin. That's the point, I guess. Of course, "truth" is always problematic. But where Mexico, America and the drug cartels are concerned, it is so multi-layered and out of reach as to seem non-existent. And that, dear reader/viewer, is fucking depressing.

Cartel Land, distributed theatrically by The Orchard and running 100 minutes, is available for streaming now via Netflix and elsewhere.