To state that this movie is a "difficult watch" is, clearly, a statement of the bleedin' obvious. Yet there is little of the footage here that is not wearily familiar, that has not been streamed to our TV screens, night after night as news coverage, from, predominantly Syria - but also, over time, from Sudan, Afghanistan, Bosnia, Somalia - even Vietnam (if you're old enough). The appalling human suffering that characterises all wars is here, just the same, writ large.
The difference here is the intimate concentration required of a cinema screening, and the almost hypnotic involvement engendered by the extraordinary risk undertaken - willingly it seemed - by the characters themselves - notably Marie Colvin and Paul Conroy. And we feel that risk with that same intimacy, because what we see here - through their eyes and ears almost - is of the moment, visceral and raw, filmed by, or of the protagonists under the most extreme duress.
I was privileged to watch the film in Paul Conroy's home town - played to a packed house - and with the added frisson of knowing that he was present for a Q and A immediately afterwards. The way that the audience felt the threat, reacted to the horror and recoiled at the explosions, almost to a man or woman, was remarkable and undeniable. We all fidgeted with obvious discomfort. There were audible exclamations of horror and disbelief at times. Many left the auditorium - but almost all returned. In literary terms, this film is un-put-downable. You might wish you hadn't seen it, but you must see it.
The difference here is the intimate concentration required of a cinema screening, and the almost hypnotic involvement engendered by the extraordinary risk undertaken - willingly it seemed - by the characters themselves - notably Marie Colvin and Paul Conroy. And we feel that risk with that same intimacy, because what we see here - through their eyes and ears almost - is of the moment, visceral and raw, filmed by, or of the protagonists under the most extreme duress.
I was privileged to watch the film in Paul Conroy's home town - played to a packed house - and with the added frisson of knowing that he was present for a Q and A immediately afterwards. The way that the audience felt the threat, reacted to the horror and recoiled at the explosions, almost to a man or woman, was remarkable and undeniable. We all fidgeted with obvious discomfort. There were audible exclamations of horror and disbelief at times. Many left the auditorium - but almost all returned. In literary terms, this film is un-put-downable. You might wish you hadn't seen it, but you must see it.