April, 1945. As the Allies make their final push in the European Theatre, a battle-hardened army sergeant named Wardaddy commands a Sherman tank and her five-man crew on a deadly mission behind enemy lines.
Out-numbered, out-gunned, and with a rookie soldier thrust into their platoon, Wardaddy and his men face overwhelming odds in their heroic attempts to strike at the heart of Nazi Germany.
Ayer gives his movie a fervour and energy which takes it beyond a videogame. But only just.
It is thunderously exciting, uncompromisingly brutal, morally provocative, and one of the best war films I have seen for years.
The finale may come off as Hollywood fantasy – think Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid – but by then, you’ll be so invested in the characters and this world, you’ll scarcely care. 'That’s better than good,' says Pitt, slugging on some whisky he’s saved. Same goes for Fury.
The battle scenes stick in the mind like hot shrapnel.
A persuasive, warts-and-bolts depiction of warfare from the guts of a tank yoked to an overwrought, sub-Private Ryan account of innocence under fire — so a hit and a miss.
For all the skill with which the film is made and the full blooded commitment of the performances, what it misses utterly is the psychological nuance and emotional depth you will always find in a Sam Fuller movie.
These are colourful comic book tropes, which rather diminish the film when it strains towards authentically brutal shocks, or poignancy.
Loud, intense, violent, relentless, Fury doesn’t stop until the credits roll, thanks to Ayer’s cracking direction and a committed cast. The best WW2 movie in some time.
Fury might not tell us anything new but it is a striking insight into what we demanded of the brave souls who fought and won the Second World War and why so many of them chose never to talk about it again.
This second world war drama is a rousing, old-fashioned film, even if it doesn’t live up to the hype.
It is brutally ugly, and if we are going to tell ourselves war stories, then this is just what they should look like.
Naturally, the combat scenes are impressively orchestrated, but the episodic barrage of mud-and-blood-splattered chaos becomes a little deadening, something that could have been forgiven had Ayer not undercut it all with a cop out Hollywood ending.
Fury is a muscular, well made war film. It pulls no punches and boasts strong work from the cast, led by a commanding Pitt.
Lacking the single-minded intensity of Samuel Maoz’s Lebanon, which did a cleaner job of trapping its audience inside a tank, this is still undeniably stirring stuff, buoyed by Steven Price’s boisterous score which builds toward an end-credits theme reminiscent of Jerry Goldsmith’s demonic Ave Satani from The Omen. Blimey.
David Ayer: 'There's something maternal about the tank in Fury'
Fury star Shia LaBeouf says he lacks faith in his abilities and is 'not a confident actor'
General release. Check local listings for show times.
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