Triage: Continuing Colin Farrell Week

Colin Farrell Week gave me war films galore on his CV. I love war movies (but hadn't seen one since the righteously acclaimed Hurt Locker)- purposeful execution of psychological and philosophical intensity, but nuanced, personalized. Kubrick was a master. Watch Paths of Glory and then Full Metal Jacket. It'll set you back 3-1/2 hours, but the contrast between similarly staged arcs (and endings) because of the difference in the men and the wars can be the basis of a college course. Triage, based on the novel, attempts the theme through the character study of a photojournalist.

Supposedly desensitized to warzones, how would Colin Farrell as Mark Walsh or Jamie Sives (magnificent in spite of his predictable character) as David react in the historically embattled Kurdistan region?

The first twenty minutes of this movie certainly piqued my interest. The enthralling Branko Djuric as front-lines triage doctor Talzani deserves mention. Witty, calculating, and deeply affected by his status in the makeshift outpost supplying the front, Dr. Talzani administers reality in a way Joacquin Morales will later attempt. Djuric steals every scene and even seems to elevate Farrell's performance.

Once Walsh returns, his girlfriend, Elena Morales (the lovely Paz Vega), is desperate to understand what caused his injuries. Here it slows. A glorious first act of brutal reality tempered by contextually suggestive performances, the last two-thirds is all exposition - how the decisions of warriors amidst conflict traumatizes and how communication of their experiences to loved ones can be unfathomable. Vega attempts alluding to her character's indefatigable drive (with personal motives) to understand what happened to Walsh, but achieves aloof nagging. So, Christopher Lee makes what could be the film-changing appearance as a relic from Spain's violent past, Joacquin Morales. But, he promptly ruins it by mucking around with an indistinguishably Spanish accent. With interesting psychological analysis of Walsh's experiences behind the lens, the humor of Morales's hardened sensitivities creates some movement in Walsh, who is disintegrating under the burden of his conscience. Again, however, the lead acting falls short of convincing, especially in the end.

I wanted to believe in Walsh, but never got a chance to because so little of the character gets exposed. Likewise, Elena and her love for Walsh and desire to see him unburdened, like herself, of guilt. But I never quite could. The book seems a more comprehensive study of the war-correspondent's existence. NO GO.