NOW IN THEATERS! These days, it’s refreshing to see an old-fashioned film, one that doesn’t try to adhere to Gen-Z standards of irony, self-awareness, and constant winking at the audience, but instead simply tells a good story. Veteran filmmaker Rod Lurie’s WWII-set Lucky Strike is the much-needed antidote to pretentious fare dominating theaters. It may not be perfect or particularly original but it’s an example of robust, muscular filmmaking of the “they don’t make ‘em like this anymore” variety.
Inspired by true events and set in the winter of 1944 in the Belgian Ardennes forest, Lucky Strike is titled after the cigarettes our hero, Castle (Scott Eastwood), smokes (as well as alluding to the numerous military strikes throughout the film). Tasked with a dangerous mission involving explosives by Colonel Neale (Colin Hanks), Castle accomplishes it — not without casualties — but finds himself wounded during what has come to be known as the Battle of the Bulge. He has to get to a certain location, through perilous territory, on his own.
Formerly a film critic, Lurie doesn’t let low production values get in his way. He consistently overcomes the film’s modest budget, drawing you into the heart of hell, leaving you drenched and shaken, while never missing an opportunity for a poetic moment, such as a gorgeous white horse angelically appearing among all the bullets and gore and deafening noise.
“…has to get to a certain location, through perilous territory, on his own…”
The narrative is composed of a series of tense set pieces. A wild, claustrophobic fight to the death inside a vehicle. A visceral narrow escape reminiscent of Inglourious Basterds. Castle pretending to be dead among a slew of corpses while Nazis wander around, looking for survivors (and pissing on them). Lurie gets a lot of mileage out of seemingly simple things, like a whistling kettle. Oh, and there’s a flamethrower. A flamethrower is always badass.
Some of the dialogue feels overly written (“About two hours, give or take,” a character estimates. “I’m taking,” comes the reply.) But the actors sell it. Eastwood provides arguably his best performance so far: stoic and heartfelt, brave and terrified, his soldier represents every soul trapped in warfare. He may have his father’s soulful eyes but his approach to performance is all his own. In other words, yes, he breaks away from Dad’s shadow.
A survival story, a historical war film, an action-packed thriller — Lucky Strike is all those things. I’ve said it before, and it bears repeating: when dumb, rehashed, ideologically-driven blockbusters dominate (and flop at) the current box office, exhausted audiences turn to independent filmmaking for stories that don’t pander. Give Lucky Strike a chance. It’ll knock your socks off harder than the lackluster Supergirl ever could.
"…it’ll knock your socks off harder than the lackluster Supergirl ever could..."
