"Drones aren't going anywhere. In fact, they're going everywhere."
At the heart of
Good Kill is the above line of dialogue, said by an Air Force commander to newly stationed personnel, in a depressingly matter of fact manner. It's a lament for sure, but more in the vein of a Wal Mart manager who slightly disagrees with superior decisions, but goes along anyways for the sake of their career. We see this commander drink liquor at his desk - an act which may be more widespread in military bases than most would think. How the hell else do you get through this job?
And, never forget, it
is a
job. This fact is presented as a mentality and loose justification for the events in the film. You go along withhorrific and morally grey acts because "it's your job". When that excuse doesn't work, you're told if you don't kill them, they'll kill you. Or 9/11. Or Murica. Or all of the above. Where's the scotch?
Andrew Niccol, director of greater movies that force us all to question things like
Gattaca and
Lord of War, attempts a return to form after such anomalies as
In Time and
The Host. I can't explain what happened during those years, but he seems to have lost an edge. Or rather, mistaken his previous edge for a current anger.
Ethan Hawke leads a small crew of Air Force pilots who, based on the outskirts of Las Vegas, control weaponized drones over the Middle East. In between investigations and semi controlled kills, they talk and bicker about the politics and morals of what they're doing. For them, a joystick that helps to unleash fire from the sky is their water cooler. And their talk? Well, it's awfully straight forward and rarely well thought out. Basically, it does approximate water cooler conversation.
When the team starts getting missions from an unnamed CIA official - the clone of Snidely Whiplash - via speakerphone, the office chat only ramps up, as does the kill count. They throw around sarcasm when given a war crime like task, as it seems to be the only defense they have. When we see the result of their strikes, it's eerily quiet. We're hearing what the team is hearing. After months of doing this, it must start to feel like a dream than a game.
By the time we meet our "hero", he's already burnt out and depressed, beginning to drink himself into a coma and on the verge of a divorce. It's not really the authorized off the books murder that's getting to him, but the disassociation of it all. I think he can still feel, but would rather feel more. Deployment was better, he suggests. To be deployed is what he wants. Face to face judgment, I suppose.
In the end, Hawke commits two righteous acts that can be said to be both the fault of those above him
and dangerously ambiguous as to the message of the movie. He essentially becomes a full blown product of this system of war - a drone of his own maybe - taking it upon himself to execute what (and who) he wants. Both actions might be seen as heroic, but are done in such clumsy and twisted ways that it's hard to decipher how the film feels and, ultimately, how we should feel. Misplaced ambiguity and cliche conclusions make for something very confusing.
Good Kill is an exercise in near meaningless ranting, rarely providing anything to chew on other than blunt force talking points. Everything it tries to express about drone policy and war in general is done so at high volume, but comes off with frequent static and repetition. Lots of repetition, actually. Droning, you could say.
2.5 / 5 *s
Good Kill opens May 22nd in New Orleans at the
Zeitgeist.
