Review Tales

Dunkirk is an evacuation of sustained terror. It is a horror sequence, a suspense sequence, and a battle sequence all in one. It is unlike any other World War II film, with a structure distinct from any war movie, period. The cacophonous and terrifying events besieging masses of people serve as a litmus test for human responses in times of crisis: duty versus self-preservation, despair or survival. Christopher Nolan places the viewer on land, sea, and air, forcing us to consider how we might react in such a harrowing evacuation. It is the cinematic equivalent of a panic attack, where every five minutes you brace for something disastrous.

The film unfolds like one giant third act, throwing you straight into the rush, scrambling for bearings—just like war. There’s no time to think about who or where or why, as your fight-or-flight response is fully activated. I’ll never forget the moment when the bullets first start coming in. The sound editing is some of the most realistic I’ve ever heard. It jolts you as though there’s a shooter in the room. The explosions come out of nowhere, so percussive that you can almost feel the shell shock, all without relying on excessive gore. That fear dominates the entire opening scene.

Imagine waiting on a beach for a week, knowing the enemy is slowly approaching and will eventually break through any defenses. Imagine being one of 400,000 souls feeling powerless, awaiting imminent death. Picture the mindset it takes to drop fliers taunting your prey, letting them know they’re surrounded. The film’s choice not to show the Germans adds to the fear and confusion, creating an existential threat that feels omnipresent. Not a Nazi in sight, yet the threat is palpable: sand, air, fire, water, crowded people, tight spaces, the “other,” the unknown—each element weaponized against the audience.

There’s no time for “character development” because everyone is trapped in the same terrible situation. Their actions speak for themselves. In any other war movie, our main characters might be the cowards or the bad guys. Here, action is character. Seeing Cillian Murphy’s shivering, shell-shocked soldier in one timeline juxtaposed with his composed self in another is character development. Amidst the bombast, there are subtle moments that linger—the expression on Commander Bolton’s (Kenneth Branagh) face when he sees all the boats arrive, Farrier’s (Tom Hardy) quiet resolve as he faces capture, and the close-up of Tommy (Fionn Whitehead) reading the newspaper that calls them “heroes,” looking bewildered and far too young to have endured what he has. Let no one say Nolan doesn’t understand character.

I think Nolan and Zimmer worked so intensely on Dunkirk‘s Shepard Tone score that it broke them trying to solve this sonic equation. They reportedly argued like a married couple for 11 months—perhaps one reason they haven’t collaborated since. The score sounds like crushing, inescapable defeat, like infected wounds on a corpse. In one scene, Tommy, Alex (Harry Styles), and Gibson (Aneurin Barnard) watch a soldier swim hopelessly out to sea, never to resurface, with home almost in sight. It’s the most desperate scene in the film, and Zimmer’s score reminds you that everything is out of the soldiers’ control. When the ticking finally stops at the end, it feels deafening.Dunkirk is an inversion of the Hollywood war movie formula. Instead of taking or defending an objective, this story is about running away.

Our protagonist, Tommy, is not a hero but a young deserter trying to sneak his way home. There are no generals discussing strategy in war rooms. The film’s most dramatic death isn’t a soldier gunned down in battle but a young man (Barry Keoghan) accidentally pushed down stairs by a traumatized soldier. The film doesn’t end with triumph but with the foreshadowing of even bigger struggles. Nolan made the antithesis of a war movie, stripping cinema down to its essential elements of sight and sound. Best of all, he trusted his audience to come along on this nail-biting, heart-pounding ride with minimal dialogue or backstory. Dunkirk isn’t a film you watch; it’s a film you survive.