The Covenant often excites but rarely questions
The Covenant often excites but rarely questions
The action-thriller attempts to explore our country's guilt over our longest war
Hollywood’s relationship to war is a complicated one - a genre unto itself, the topic has shaped cinema for more than a century (the abhorrently racist but historically influential 1915 film The Birth of a Nation is in part, after all, a war film). Filmmakers quickly understood the potential of this new medium, its viscerality imparting the exhilaration of battle from a safe distance. But this power has often been used recklessly to make myth, and many American war films either passively condone the actions of the American military or actively propagandize on its behalf. War is traumatic, both individually and culturally, yet stories can help us process that trauma, searching for meaning and understanding, binary explanations for a complicated truth. Almost every major American military conflict, both foreign and domestic, has its own collection of films that reflect and reinforce the cultural consensus. But the War on Terror is not like other wars - its objectives and efficacy endlessly debated and questioned across the political spectrum, this unconventional “forever war” lacks a satisfying climax and doesn’t fit neatly into classical narrative structure. To be sure, films like The Hurt Locker and American Sniper attempt to explore this new type of warfare, yet they lack the hindsight necessary to provide a definitive portrayal of this conflict and its effects. But now that this war is (supposedly) over, what story will we tell ourselves? British director Guy Ritchie has surprisingly entered the conversation with The Covenant, following a U.S. Army special operations sergeant in Afghanistan towards the tail-end of the conflict. Making the first film on the subject following the Taliban’s swift reclamation of the country, Ritchie crafts a solid yet superficial experience that reflects a tremendous guilt felt on behalf of the Western world.
While our exploits in Iraq were far more dramatic, the conflict in Afghanistan will come to define the War on Terror. Beginning with a clear objective and almost universal public and international approval, the military operation quickly began to suffer from mission creep, insurgency, and ultimately apathy from a nation that had moved on. When the Taliban retook Kabul mere weeks after our withdrawal, many realized the Sisyphean nature to our global policing ambitions. Many political pundits framed this abandonment as a betrayal, particularly of our allies who openly defied the Taliban and were now in their crosshairs. Needless to say, our country has many unresolved feelings on this issue, and Ritchie, intentionally or otherwise, reckons with this anticlimax. As the trailer so spoilerifically explains, the film follows Sgt. John Kinley who is saved and protected by Ahmed, his outspoken yet effective Afghan interpreter. When Kinley learns that Ahmed has been forced into hiding for “betraying his people,” Kinley willingly returns to the war-torn country to repay his debt and bring Ahmed and his family to the United States. This framing feels fundamentally rooted in guilt over the war’s conclusion; how many other men like Ahmed are now on the run or have been killed? By distilling these nations into the characters of Kinley and Ahmed, we’re able to live out a pseudo-catharsis that real-life history denies us.
But this guilt only goes so far; while we’re meant to feel responsible for leaving Ahmed in this situation, we’re never asked to question the decisions that put Ahmed there in the first place. Even the most complex films about the War on Terror are generally uncritical of its overall aims and methods, and this film is no exception. There’s only one conversation in the whole film (which happens in voice-over during a travel montage) between service members that wrestles with the apparent futility of their efforts. They may question the war’s results, but never its morality. Typical for Hollywood, there is an assumed reverence for the military, its apparatus, and its actions. As exemplified by post-9/11 media like 24, the unconventionality of this conflict can, for some Americans, justify unconventional (read illegal) methods. From this perspective, it’s okay to color outside the lines to do the “right thing”...like using shaky intel to go after unproven targets. Make no mistake: I think the Taliban are unequivocally evil, but the film doesn’t even attempt to give their wickedness any definition. We’re meant to root against them because they’re against the West, but there’s plenty to criticize them for without reducing the conflict to a binary “us versus them” dynamic, often based deeply in cultural differences and racial prejudices.
But Ritchie’s film is really three stories in one - a war film, a survival thriller, and a rescue mission. While briskly paced and never dull, the narrative structure is a bit uneven and never coalesces into one clear identity. But that middle chunk is arguably the most interesting, turning Ahmed into a secondary protagonist while Jake Gyllenhaal’s Kinley recovers from a shootout that has left him in critical condition. The wonderfully talented Dar Salim, who brings the character of Ahmed to life, has already explored this subject matter in Tobias Lindholm’s A War, but he’s given center stage here to truly shine. The film is best when it focuses on the personal dynamics between its characters, particularly Ahmed and Kinley. However, more could have been done to develop this relationship, as it’s never made convincingly clear why Ahmed is so committed to saving Kinley beyond his duty. The film’s title suggests some kind of bond between the two men, but no such bond is ever made, implicitly or explicitly. It also doesn’t help that Kinley is fairly bland in terms of his characterization. We never really get a sense of what makes him tick - why does HE do what he does? Is it just because he loves America that much? Gyllenhaal does a lot of heavy lifting to make the character interesting, and his drive (and borderline obsession) in the third act to rescue Ahmed is compelling and definitely a bright spot.
It must be obvious by now, but I’m definitely biased here: I’m a radical pacifist and highly critical of the American military industrial complex. That being said, people love war films for a reason, and I am no exception - that exhilaration is unparalleled, which is why it has been used to such effect for over a century. While few and far between, the action sequences in this film are enthralling, well constructed, and gripping, though not revolutionary by any means. Compared to his previous work, Ritchie provides some remarkably restrained and incredibly effective direction. There’s a wonderful balance between action, tension, suspense, and reflection, particularly as Kinley and Ahmed navigate the vast wilderness by themselves. Visuals are gorgeously conceived and produced, mixing subjective camera work with beautiful tableaus that give us insight into the characters and their interior lives.
If you look at his body of work, you’d be forgiven for doubting Guy Ritchie’s ability to contribute anything meaningful to this conversation; by no means is The Covenant the definitive portrayal of the War on Terror, or even the war in Afghanistan, and does little, if anything, to answer the big questions still plaguing us all of these years later. But the film succeeds in its compelling direction and authentic performances, aided in no small part to the natural aesthetic benefits of war on-screen. But why is that? No one LIKES war, so why do we enjoy seeing it play out in stories? Perhaps such stories do more than just help us process past wars - could they be conditioning us for the road ahead? Ritchie doesn’t seek to answer any of these questions, and while his film is certainly entertaining, Hollywood has a long way to go before fully understanding what we’ve done to the Middle East - and ourselves.
