Review of War Horse (2011) by Peter C — 04 Jul 2013

WAR HORSE.

I am not a pet person. My tropical fish tank was smashed with an ash tray. My budgie - who we thought was a boy, but was actually a girl - got stuffed into a poly bag and dumped in a wheelie bin (alive, I may add). And my rabbits kept eating their litter until they themselves were eaten by a scrap yard dog. I repeat: I am not a pet person.

So, needless to say, I was not champing at the bit to watch War Horse. However, even though I have a few reservations, I must admit that I did actually enjoy it.

Reservations first... The horse has a far better grasp of the English language than Susie Dent from Dictionary Corner in Countdown. Think Skippy The Bush Kangaroo and Lassie rolled into one. There are only so many times you can watch someone issue strict instructions and pour their innermost thoughts to a horse, before you start shouting: it's only a fucking horse!

Secondly, the schmaltz-o-meter was higher than Joe Pasquale on helium. There were far too many close ups of forlorn faces and single tears rolling down flushed cheeks. And the swelling music swelled so much and so often that it got in the way of the film. Show me an image, let me watch it and make up my own mind how I feel about it. Don't tell me how I should feel. Suggest? Yes. Tell? No.

And, finally, I refer the honourable lady to the answer I gave a few moments ago: it's only a fucking horse! Soldiers are blown up left, right and centre. Young brothers are executed for deserting the army. And people are bayonetted up the jacksie. And what do we get: horse takes on tank and wins. No, no and thrice no.

However... I did, surprisingly, enjoy it.

It looks wonderful. The scenes are beautifully shot, skilfully directed and wonderfully acted (give or take a few dodgy accents). And the film rattles along at such a pace that, before you know it, the credits are rolling and you haven't even finished your picnic which you bought from Tesco and smuggled into the cinema under your bumphly jacket (please note: always wear a bumphly jacket to the cinema, they check your bags, you know).

As treacly and saccharine as it sounds, the central messages of hope, love and togetherness is refreshingly uplifting. 3 out of 5.

(P.S. I was going to spell bumphly like this: bumfly. But bum and fly together do not look or sound right.).