FURY (David Ayer). 134 minutes. Some subtitles. Opens Friday (October 17). For venues and times, see Movies. Rating: NNN
From Training Day and Harsh Times to Sabotage and End Of Watch, David Ayer writes one kind of movie: one where macho he-men – usually cops – yell and curse at each other until someone gets shot in the face. Women barely exist, and dramatic contrast inevitably comes from the arrival of a decent hero who finds himself dumped into a cruel, violent new reality.
Ayer’s new film, Fury, has all that, too, but there’s a twist: it’s set during the Second World War, focusing on the crew of an American tank making its way into Germany in April 1945.
Fury is the same story he always tells, but macho bullshit and one-dimensional characterization are part and parcel of the WWII genre. There’s the battle-hardened commander (Brad Pitt), the smartass (Shia LaBeouf), the brute (Jon Bernthal), the ethnic minority guy (Michael Peña) and the newbie (Logan Lerman) whose spirit will be forged in the fire of combat.
It’s the fire that most people will be talking about, as Ayer actively tries to top the brutality and gore of Saving Private Ryan. People die very badly and frequently in close-up, bits of them splattering the camera.
In its brutality and brawny action sequences, Fury feels like a swaggering corrective to the old-fashioned pleasures of George Clooney’s recent The Monuments Men. I liked Clooney’s film, but a lot of people didn’t they’re welcome to embrace this instead.
