I don’t see many new movies, as most don’t interest me, but every once in a while one comes along. Dunkirk was one such film; its commercials intrigued me. An emotionally intense war movie with some supposedly-interesting directing? Yes, please.

The film was better than I ever expected. If you haven’t seen it yet, please do.

Here is my (amateur) review of the film, which attempts to relate the best aspects without spoiling the story much for any of you:

First of all, the cinematography in this film is excellent (though who am I to say; I’m no expert), especially the wide-angle shots of the sky, beach, and sea. The aerial shots are spectacular. There are many, many close-ups, however, especially of the main characters’ faces, which serve to bring and keep us close to the characters even when the camera zooms back out. We see every emotion on their faces and in their eyes. Indeed, eyes are important in these close-ups. Tommy’s (the main character’s) eyes especially, as well as pilots Collins’ and Farrier’s, convey lots of emotion—since the pilot’s faces are often covered by oxygen masks, the part of their faces we see most is their eyes, so we rely on those eyes to convey emotions. They do their job wonderfully.

These face shots are even more effective because of the limited dialogue in the film. In the first ten minutes, there is very, very little dialogue at all, which I found wonderful and also intriguing. Why the lack of words? Of course, as the film continued I realized why: to make the viewer pay attention to all the action, body language, and facial expressions. All those faces take on that much more meaning when they are the primary means of conveying the characters’ emotions. It’s a sort of film version of showing versus telling. Nolan lets the characters show all their emotions; very little is told through dialogue.

This also, of course, heightens the effect of the dialogue. When a character speaks, we instantly pay more attention because he so rarely opens his mouth.

More interesting camera work of note is the use of the “shaky cam” to give us soldier’s perspectives on the beach; and the similar close-up, personal shots that give us soldier’s perspectives in boats and ships. These are particularly effective and terrifying in a few situations when boats are sinking; the camera dip underwater, then comes back up, then goes back down, mimicking the perspective of a soldier and increasing the viewer’s feelings of horror and claustrophobia.

I had heard before I saw the film that director Christopher Nolan played a lot with time, and I found this to be very true and very satisfying, especially for a narrative geek like me. Nolan really does play with time: he takes us through three storylines, all taking place over different lengths of time and at different periods of time. The narrative is nonlinear; i.e., not chronological. I couldn’t help but think of William Faulkner. If you’ve read his novels, you’ll know what I mean. Faulkner’s novels are generally nonlinear; they jump back into the past, then back to the “present,” then to some future event, then back to the “present.” Somehow, Nolan has captured this movement in Dunkirk—in a way that actually made sense. Dunkirk, to me, was almost like one of Faulkner’s stories on film. (Which led me to wonder: Maybe someone actually can film Faulkner. Maybe it should be Christopher Nolan.)

Also, the persistent rhythmic beat and the ticking of a stopwatch in the background, emphasize the idea that time is of great importance and, at some point, will run out. At some point the enemy will come; there are only so many minutes the soldiers have to get off the beach, to get across the Channel. Only so long to find a solution. This increases the tension in the viewer.

But the affect would be minimal without the music. Hans Zimmer’s incredible score at once blends into the action and also stands out—suddenly I would hear it, loud and clear, and it would drive home the characters’ emotions and tension of the situation and the overriding theme—time, time, time. Then, I would get caught up in the story and the music would fade—sometimes literally—and blend right back in with the rest of the sounds. The score was understated, always haunting and very, very in tune with the characters’ emotions and the theme of time.

As for the characters themselves: I could go on and on, but in order not to spoil too much I’ll only mention a few things. Fionn Whitehead as Tommy is understatedly impressive, seemingly less acting than reacting as a soldier would have. Tommy’s unquestioning acceptance of Gibson is beautiful and completely natural in wartime—and shows, I think, how human beings should relate to each other in civilian life, too. When everyone else turns on Gibson, Tommy sticks with him. Also, the relationship between George and Peter is unexpectedly sweet and tender, one that lingers in the mind long after the film ends. The film’s portrayal of shell shock and post-traumatic stress, through one character in particular, is haunting and unnerving, but also quietly realistic. And despite his PTS, this soldier, as shown at the end of the film, still clings to hope and goodness.

A particular sentence in a review in Entertainment Weekly caught my eye because it put into words just why the film made such an impact on me: “By the end of Dunkirk, what stands out the most. . . . [is] the small, indelible, unshakeable images that accumulate like the details in the corner of a mural.” Indeed, these images are the reasons why the film has stuck and lingered in my brain since I saw it. All these images add up to one, big, indescribable whole; the effect of war on the individual.