Civil War finds Alex Garland at his finest, following his third credited directorial effort in Men. It is a nuanced work of art that tackles themes of authoritarianism, human fragility, and war while also exploring how journalists, and artists by extension, emerge and evolve.

While it is a piece of filmmaking unlike anything I have ever seen, its arcs on war are as meditative as they are tense, not unlike Thin Red Line, while the personal journeys of the characters continuously try to decode media sensationalism, think 2014’s underrated ‘Nightcrawler’, desensitization, and the cost of self-actualization in a cruel world.

The movie begins by setting the scene with a ‘monologue’ from the American President serving a third term. Nick Offerman is exceptional in the little time he is given, and his insecurity with the evolving secession situation is almost immediately visible through his rehearsals on camera. Viewers are subsequently introduced to the brutal world of the movie as it kicks off with a literal bang in the form of an unfortunate suicide bombing in New York. This is also the point where we are introduced to the 2 leading women of the movie, Lee Smith (Kirsten Dunst) and Jessie Cullen (Cailee Spaeny), as their journey as journalists in the movie begins.

The film is structured as a series of face-offs in which the 4 main characters are directly or indirectly involved (sometimes a mixture of the 2). The economy has crashed, and the world of the movie exists in a binary paradigm of 2 extremes clashing (hence the continuous face-offs). The slow-burning tension gathers momentum as the most horrifying road trip of tomorrow completes its course. Along for the ride are Sammy, Lee’s mentor, and Joel, Lee’s colleague, and stand-in character for the audience.

The relationship between Smith and Cullen is the most intriguing part of the movie and its crux is its foundation. While their journey sees both women travelling down identical roads, their personal dynamics are opposites as Smith starts off as a famed, heartless photographer, Cullen’s idol, who regains her humanity through the course of the movie while Cullen loses her innocence and sincerity during the same period. The road to Cullen’s dehumanization is marred by continuous violence around, and often towards, herself as the shy but talented kid all but transforms into a scrappy and no-fucks-given sort of a journalist trying to recover the story, no matter the cost. And it is this journey that is visible to Smith which makes her reconsider every decision she makes concerning Jessie and becomes more and more protective of her and increasingly sensitive to the situations in front of them to the point of breakdown by the end of runtime. This over-protective attitude isn’t uncalled for either as the only detour they deliberately take leads to 3 deaths and the most tense scene of the movie, starring Jesse Plemons of course.

The movie is not trying to hide the correlation between Smith and Cullen. At the beginning of the movie, when Jessie asks her idol if she would continue taking pictures if Jessie was about to die, she nonchalantly asks her what she thinks in a rhetorical tone for the ages. And by the end of the movie, Lee dies protecting Cullen from firing militias while Cullen continues to take pictures of her idol as she dies in front of her. The depressing circle, thus, becomes complete.

Between the racist, white Americans, who explicitly ask for nationalities and allegiances before killing, and the brutal Western Forces, indiscriminate in its mass killings, viewers are repeatedly questioning themselves before choosing a side to the point where notions of binary quickly become pointless, beautifully illustrated in a scene involving 2 snipers who are just surviving the war in front of them. And if the viewer does the same, they will be rewarded with one of the densest social commentary cum motion picture in recent years.