Why does war exist?
"Hey, now," I hear you say, "I didn't come here for some kind of philosophical debate! Just tell me if the movie with talking monkeys on horses with big ass spears and machine guns is as awesome as it sounds!" But that's the thing. The Planet of the Apes franchise has never been just about one thing. There has always been a dichotomy in its purpose. On one hand, you know, apes on horseback with guns and shit - the type of thing you'd find floating around the mind of any adolescent boy. On the other hand, every film in the Apes franchise (now in its second reboot) has had some form of social commentary, often going to incredibly dark and emotional places. Charlton Heston has damned everyone to hell, babies have been killed and the earth has been blown up. So, why does war exist? Surprisingly, Matt Reeves's Dawn of the Planet of the Apes provides one of the most compelling answers I've seen in a long time to that impossible question. It also has a set piece where two apes fight each other with scrap metal on top of a crumbling skyscraper.
Dawn of the Planet of the Apes picks up where 2011's Rise of the Planet of the Apes credits ended (a graphic of criss-crossing planes representing the spread of the virus created by the biotech company Gen-Sys). In a short vignette, we learn that over the last 10 years the virus, dubbed "Simian Flu," has wiped out the majority of Earth's human population. There are a few groups of survivors huddled together in the ruins of their various cities unaware if they are the last ones out there. In a crumbling San Francisco we meet one of these groups led by Malcolm (Jason Clark), an ethical and decent human being, and Dreyfus (Gary Oldman), another good man but one who only wants to protect his people but who also seems to be more willing than Malcolm to do whatever it takes to ensure that safety.
These (and the others that make up the colony) are not bad people people. In fact, they're sympathetic because of how easily we can identify with their lives before the apocalypse. But the group of human survivors are only part of the equation. Deep within the Muir Woods lives a far more interesting group. There, led by Caesar (an absolutely stunning and heartbreaking performance by a motion-captured Andy Serkis), is a sophisticated village full of hyper-intelligent apes. There are faces we came to know in the first film - whether it be the wise and affable Maurice (Karin Konoval), the loyal Rocket or the scar-covered, rage-fueled Koba (Toby Kebbell) - and there is a new generation of children both young and old.
Unlike the humans, this is a civilization that is thriving. They live in elaborate homes built into the trees, they hunt together using weapons they have crafted themselves and they have been instructed in the intricacies of the English language by Maurice. Most of all, however, they have come to learn and accept the credo that "Ape not kill ape." Caesar's son Blue Eyes (Nick Thurston) hunts beside him as his equal and Caesar's mate (Judy Greer) gives birth to another son. The apes want for nothing. Sure, they bicker from time to time, but it is a tribe of peace.
Then the humans, in an attempt to find and repair a hydroelectric dam, enter the scene and an intense, violent encounter suggests that renewed relations being the two species will not end well. But Caesar allows the humans to leave. It's here that Dawn begins a back and forth that switches sympathy between humans and apes. The chimps had the misfortune to run into the most trigger happy and paranoid of an otherwise calm and reasonable group of humans. The humans also didn't enter the woods to kill any of the apes. Their goals were peaceful and solely motivated by necessity. And while the encounter ends with no further violence, it's an incident that puts both tribes on their toes, causing each group to become weary of the other from afar. Dreyfus tells his people to prepare their weapons, Caesar finds his actions and authority questioned by Koba who, unlike the most of the other apes, continues to harbor immense disdain for the species that experimented on him and took his eye. Caesar and Malcolm realize the need for peace, but the humans' fearfulness and anger and the apes' confidence and envy quickly turn things to violence once more.
What's so spectacular about Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is that we're rooting for both sides. When the first major battle occurs, even though the action is visually stunning and viscerally exciting the overriding emotion is dread. The action is thrilling and remarkable and all we want is for it to STOP. When the humans finally restore the power and Malcolm and his family (Keri Russell and Kodi Smit-McPhee) are with Caesar and his family looking at the bright lights of a renewed San Francisco, the feeling isn't one of happiness. There's a tightness in our chests because we know things don't end like this. When we see the people in the city celebrating the return of their lights and their vitality, the realization that this type of peace and happiness cannot last is crushing.
Like most real world conflicts, this isn't a war where one side is all right and the other is all wrong. Everyone has a point and everything the characters do is understandable from where they're standing. There are decent people coming at it from both sides attempting to find the most reasonable and peaceable end. But both sides also have their villains whose flaws spiral things into their inevitable and heartbreaking conclusion. Reeves's fantastic visual sense and beautiful choreography are matched by a Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver script that expertly combines strong storytelling with nuance and ambiguity. Sure, this is a film where apes ride tanks and shoot sub-machine guns from the backs of horses, but it's also a film that forms and navigates a delicate political situation that echoes many of the global conflicts in the world today - a especially strong parallel being to the seemingly endless strife between Israel and Palestine where every small step towards peace is quickly erased, dragged down again and again by bloodshed. At the end of the day, the conflict in Dawn can be boiled down to same thing most of our real world conflicts can: two groups who are equally scared of one another.
Yet for all of its important and philosophical ideas, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes remains a film of exhilaration - a visceral film constantly moving, full of amazing action, unexpected moments and captivating, often gun-wrenching poignancy. While Russell and many of the other humans don't have much to do, they are all able (particularly Oldman and Clark) to convey the gravity of the situations in which they find themselves. Like with Rise, the apes also have weight and an undeniable presence thanks to motion-capture work that is easily the most breathtaking I've ever witnessed. After Serkis, who brilliantly conveys in subtle gestures and looks the immense burden put upon Caesar by his own principles, Toby Kebbell as Koba is the standout. Whether it be in a particularly emotional scene where he points at all of scars repeating "Human! Work!" over and over again or in a scene where he engages in stereotypical primate behavior in order to outsmart and ultimately overtake a couple of idiotic humans guarding the armory, Kebbell manages to create one of the most layered villains of the year. When an ape is hurt or when they are pounding on one another or falling in battle, the impacts are physically and emotionally palpable. And that's what makes Dawn of the Planet of the Apes one of the best films I've seen so far in 2014.
Like all of the best Planet of the Apes films, Dawn is able to create a sense that no matter how ridiculous and unbelievable the premise seems, what happens here matters. And as the film closes and we look into Caesar's weary eyes (forever changed from the warrior that began the film), we realize along with him that the fate of the world hangs on the choices that will be made by these characters, both human and ape alike, in their day-to-day struggle to survive.
9 out of 10
