13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers Of Benghazi ***
A collective *sigh* always resonates amongst film critics when a new Michael Bay film comes out. It’s ‘let’s bash Bay time’ again, rather than thinking the filmmaker does draw sizeable audiences and make billions of dollars in the process. So, will his ‘most serious’ film yet, 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers Of Benghazi, appeal to his fan base?
Based on true events in Mitchell Zuckoff’s book (written along with Annex Security Team survivors), and soon after the toppling of Colonel Gaddafi during the Arab Spring, a secret US Consulate housing CIA operatives and a crack protection team of ex-military men, the Global Response Staff (GRS), comes under attack from militants when its cover is blown, soon after a visiting US Ambassador is killed in a nearby complex.
With help a long way off, GRS’s Jack Silva (a buff John Krasinski from The Office), Tyrone ‘Rone’ Woods (James Badge Dale), Kris ‘Tanto’ Paronto (Pablo Schreiber), Dave ‘Boon’ Benton (David Denman), John ‘Tig’ Tiegen (Dominic Fumusa) and Mark ‘Oz’ Geist (Max Martini) must hold back the attack from their besieged position.
Bay simply immerses his viewer in big-action bashing that satisfies the inner gamer demon. 13 Hours just shamelessly uses a real-life story to allow us to vent our darkest frustrations at the incompetent, meddling ‘State’ (not just the US here btw) and the latest bogeyman (read between the current news lines), when we all know things are never that black and white and easy to unpick in real-life. It’s called ‘escapism’, folks – no apologies made. The film delivers in Bay-esque grandeur for fans, whether it’s being politically correct or not. The first half even tries to get serious too – naff script lines aside at times.
Not only does 13 Hours reduce its warring factions to a simplistic ‘us’ (the Americans and its allies) and ‘them’ (basically, anyone of Arabic appearance – complete with black Islamic flags), and is characteristically patriotic from a US stance, but it’s also typically sexist when it comes to women. No surprises there. We either cry over our slaughtered men folk (‘them’ in the bloodstained fields) or trip over ourselves bringing drinks to refresh the men in the midst of battle and flying bullets.
Even though the only female protagonist – so let’s name her and give her credit as Alexia Barlier playing CIA’s Sona Jillani, who sadly possesses the said two left feet – risks her neck in dangerous negotiations outside the secret US Consulate’s four walls, she is still reduced to a pretty pawn in the all-male war game. Is this enough to enrage female viewers? Not really. It’s Bay after all. To actually look into the different facets at play here and how they tick would make the film far longer than 13 hours – and it’s long enough at 144 minutes. Let’s face it; we’ve come for the epic action.
Here, Bay does not disappoint. He uses a bronzed beefcake cast – who are as wide as Transformers in many respects, even Krasinski – to pump the hell out of the bad guys who just keep coming and confusing the poor GRS. In this respect (and knowing military personnel and those in newsgathering), Bay does portray the localised pandemonium of war. As they say, ‘no one wears a uniform’, so who’s friend or foe? Ironically too, in recent real-life conflicts, the Americans have been known to be a touch trigger-happy, so it doesn’t take much to buy into what’s playing out on screen. Even his beefcakes lose pints of blood and limbs like faltering Transformers, but at least there’s not a mass of unidentifiable metal in turmoil, just bearded heroes who once they start getting dirty become indistinguishable almost. In this case, Bay could be accused of ‘giving up’ on his quest to make something ‘more serious’ and just skipping to the gory, ‘fun’ part, like some impatient kid he’s peddling to.
Hats off to Krasinski who is genuinely credible as a lead action hero instead of a jokey office nerd. It’s a complete role departure that shows gumption. Ironically, his character is the moral gauge – if there is such a thing here. It’s just the schmaltzy family flashbacks that ruin things, and induce sniggers. Indeed, more back-story could have been written in to prevent this, if there were more lull periods between men folk. However, that would have removed us from the pressure-cooker environment that needs brewing to unleash the resulting hell. There is an overuse of redundant ‘scenic’ shots at the expense of more exhilarating car chases. Channelling more Bourne would have helped matters – though the locals are still made to look like morons here. Cue the smiling ‘TV guy’ next door.
To want to know more about each bearded beefcake would have meant an entirely different film – it’s no American Sniper. Bay was never going to risk his reputation on that, regardless of the sensitivity of the subject matter to hand. He ties that up in the standard photo montage of the real-life ‘heroes’ as the end credits roll.
13 Hours definitely quenches the bloodlust and action fever in us. It’s not for the fainthearted or those seeking truthful, real-life representations of complex world events either – even though it uses the typical newsreel footage. It’s a war game for the best impact or IMAX screen out there, reeking of machismo and entrails, shockingly stereotypical and blatantly racist. To expect otherwise in an ‘us and them’ Bay battle would be foolish.
3/5 stars
By @FilmGazer
