The Outpost of the title was a U.S. military site designed to enlist residents in social expansion, but was located at the base of high mountains just miles from the border. U.S. and local soldiers and advisers would confront a never-ending loom of attack by rebels, who ultimately decided to make a statement.
The key to this story and the way it is told is found in how completely unpredictably and abruptly the exchange of fire must be in warfare, especially in this precarious scenario. This is a defining feature of this movie, in its structure, in its suspense and in its character dynamics. The characters in Rod Lurie's The Outpost are young who may generally share the same age bracket but who are nonetheless at varying staging of life, displaced and frustrated guys who will be chewing the fat one second and covering their comrades in the next, against totally unseen enemies.
I can only hope that movie-fan enthusiasm had a role to play in the casting of Clint Eastwood's son, Mel Gibson's son and Mick Jagger's son. They vary in their level of presence, but the film never conventionally signals when someone more "important" than someone else is on-screen. Everyone stacks up with each other, and they're all naturalistically revealed. Scott Eastwood, for one, has countless moments during which he must do something mortally risky while exposing his crippling fears, born out of empathy and experience.
I'm aware that many professional reviews agree that Caleb Landry Jones steals it. There is no denying that. What viewers need to know is that performance in a movie this maturely crafted, this carefully pragmatic about its potentially sensationalized subject matter, is not about centering any one character. Rod knows particularly well how loyal and synergetic soldiers are in platoons, squadrons and outposts.
Jones is an inspired thread the film holds from the start to its final, crushing cut to black. Lurie understands how we all feel about the possibility of being involved in warfare, and how far out of one's element we would look to the rest of our squadron. The gift Jones gives us is the deeply felt human response to being in the very thick of the situation. He is alienated by the squad, because he is not like them. He wouldn't seem especially weird were it not for the fact that he is surrounded by "proper" pedigrees of American warrior.
But somehow, in a brutal, tragic war film, there are no bad guys. No single deed is without dimension. Lurie has always been specific and definite in his choices. Here it is in how carefully everything plays out before an anxious camera which seems to be a silent addition to the cast.
We are left with a story that is so compelling because no matter how immersed we become in it, how inescapable the thick of it feels, it is a needle in the haystack of stories like it, and other stories at other tiers of what has happened since we put troops in Afghanistan. One of the most important reasons why it is not an action-packed film, despite how sudden, brutal and prolonged the battle sequences are, is because it takes the time to show us regime change in a microcosm, how leadership matters, and affects what happens to those depending on it. It's a lesson we can all afford to take time to understand, for what should be terribly obvious reasons.
The key to this story and the way it is told is found in how completely unpredictably and abruptly the exchange of fire must be in warfare, especially in this precarious scenario. This is a defining feature of this movie, in its structure, in its suspense and in its character dynamics. The characters in Rod Lurie's The Outpost are young who may generally share the same age bracket but who are nonetheless at varying staging of life, displaced and frustrated guys who will be chewing the fat one second and covering their comrades in the next, against totally unseen enemies.
I can only hope that movie-fan enthusiasm had a role to play in the casting of Clint Eastwood's son, Mel Gibson's son and Mick Jagger's son. They vary in their level of presence, but the film never conventionally signals when someone more "important" than someone else is on-screen. Everyone stacks up with each other, and they're all naturalistically revealed. Scott Eastwood, for one, has countless moments during which he must do something mortally risky while exposing his crippling fears, born out of empathy and experience.
I'm aware that many professional reviews agree that Caleb Landry Jones steals it. There is no denying that. What viewers need to know is that performance in a movie this maturely crafted, this carefully pragmatic about its potentially sensationalized subject matter, is not about centering any one character. Rod knows particularly well how loyal and synergetic soldiers are in platoons, squadrons and outposts.
Jones is an inspired thread the film holds from the start to its final, crushing cut to black. Lurie understands how we all feel about the possibility of being involved in warfare, and how far out of one's element we would look to the rest of our squadron. The gift Jones gives us is the deeply felt human response to being in the very thick of the situation. He is alienated by the squad, because he is not like them. He wouldn't seem especially weird were it not for the fact that he is surrounded by "proper" pedigrees of American warrior.
But somehow, in a brutal, tragic war film, there are no bad guys. No single deed is without dimension. Lurie has always been specific and definite in his choices. Here it is in how carefully everything plays out before an anxious camera which seems to be a silent addition to the cast.
We are left with a story that is so compelling because no matter how immersed we become in it, how inescapable the thick of it feels, it is a needle in the haystack of stories like it, and other stories at other tiers of what has happened since we put troops in Afghanistan. One of the most important reasons why it is not an action-packed film, despite how sudden, brutal and prolonged the battle sequences are, is because it takes the time to show us regime change in a microcosm, how leadership matters, and affects what happens to those depending on it. It's a lesson we can all afford to take time to understand, for what should be terribly obvious reasons.