Running guns is a bad business. If you didn't know, this article is here to confirm said fact based on the authority of the new movie "Lord of War." This worthwhile message is the central theme of the movie, and the throngs of people who go to see it will be glad of its slick Hollywood packaging. Similar to this year's consciousness awakening "Crash," "Lord of War" tightly packs indie guilt into a highly glamorous Hollywood template and never looks back. Does the didactic narrative mean we should be learning something instead of enjoying ourselves? That is for the moviegoer to decide, but for every comic one-liner delivered with a slithery snake-like poise by Nicholas Cage, there is a burdening lesson in morality percolating through the film's rich visual tapestry.
All heavy-handed messages aside, this film is a visual treat, as established in the opening scene. Here, what seems to be a tiny camera takes the perspective of a virgin bullet as it is systematically assembled on a conveyor belt, shipped off to a revolutionary group in Africa and loaded into a machine gun as surrounding people topple over and christen it, all before it intersects with some poor bloke's head on its way to realizing its potential as wall décor. The lifecycle of the bullet is contained seamlessly in a single shot.
The movie as a whole follows self-made gun salesmen Yuri Orolov (Nicholas Cage) from a small, poor, heavily Ukrainian sector of Brooklyn, to the riches of life as a business liaison, to the most ruthless political dictators in the world. From the moment Yuri stares into the camera with his resigned countenance from a war-torn African village, the movie is guided by a first-person vocal narration on par with "Goodfellas." Yuri serves to convey a personal story that elucidates the mechanisms of the gun trade. However, he is not telling a story of personal moral development, a fact made clear as the narration ends in the same war-stricken village in which it begins. Yuri is the product of capitalist-driven opportunism and remains a cold, calculating businessman without remorse for the obvious damage he is causing. In fact, Yuri is a refreshing departure from the strict Hollywood formula that propagates moral redemption for the sake of sympathy.
Nicholas Cage plays Yuri with the trademark nervous energy that he somehow wrangles into brimming collectedness. Yuri is a little more assured than his role in "The Rock" but not nearly as likeable and, unfortunately for Yuri's sincerity as a character, the part simply reeks of the Nicholas Cage brand. Jared Leto plays Yuri's drug addict brother who suffers from a deconstructive case of guilt for his part in the gun running business. The character isn't refined enough for Leto to truly flex his acting muscles. The same goes for Ethan Hawk, playing the rule-abiding police officer hot on Yuri's tail. Hawk's character is justified in his convictions of Yuri's legal transgressions, but never has the supporting evidence to make a worthy move.
The movie finds success in poignant moments that transcend the contrived, overly didactic meaningfulness of the movie as a whole. For example, there is a very effective vignette of Yuri's growing disillusionment with his enterprise. As he meanders through an African Village, he confronts a girl who has lost her arm in war, asking if it will grow back. He is assaulted by political rebels who experience a malfunction with a rifle that supposedly never jams, and is briefly interrogated by two native wolves that decide he isn't worthy to feast upon. We realize Yuri is lost when he assures the rebels set on shooting him that his guns never malfunction and that a defective magazine is probably causing the jamming.
Unfortunately, such moments are far too rare in a movie too slick to offer any real insight. Despite its basis in non-fiction historical fact, the auxiliary characters are too flat and cartoon-like in their psychological dispositions to be valid. Sure, political dictators and army personnel have their quirks and commonalities, but the movie fails to dive deeper than these traits, as exemplified by the son of an African dictator known for his sick desire to shoot at pedestrians during joy rides.
And so goes the movie industry's latest example of valuing simplification over complexity. But this movie is far from a complete failure. Despite his shadow, Nicholas Cage is charismatic in the way that he so viciously taps into the ambiguity of his character. His character is convincing of his love and affection for his family and in his disaffected demeanor towards the buttressing of innocent slaughter around the world. Maybe that is what makes his character seem a true reflection of reality instead of a manipulation meant to jerk our sympathies. And certainly, like "Crash," this movie could be the catalyst for provocative discourse. It lacks, though, the substance to categorize it as an engaging artistic statement.
Grade: C
