An odd little duck of a movie, this Lord of War; at once trivial and deservedly lost in the shuffle of post-summer releases, while also one of the most damning indictments of the business of death in many a moon. It's the sort of film that will either meet with a stunned, embarrassed silence, or will stoke the fires of neo-conservative bloodlust, at least those who continue to believe that liberalism is so pervasive and fanatical that we're but one step from complete submission. Slick, self-righteous, and oh-so-noble, it's also cursed with Nicolas Cage at its center; an actor so aloof and tired that it's all he can do to deliver his lines. He's terribly miscast, as usual, and the film would have been far better served with an unknown in the lead; someone who could lend far more credibility to the Ukrainian-born Yuri Orlov, who now traffics in the worldwide sale of deadly, often illegal arms. Cage is reliably smarmy and surly, but we never believe that he could consort with madmen and wily dictators, for he shows his hand at every opportunity. He's still a punk kid turned lunkhead who can't seem to decide what we wants to be when he grows up. He's not a man with roguish connections; he's taking your order at the Burger Barn.

Director Andrew Niccol has crafted an entertaining, reasonably good time here, but it never takes off as we'd like it to. The skeleton is here for a truly revolutionary film, but the flesh never appears. Still, Yuri's globetrotting ways reveal bold strokes about the amorality of world politics, and how every single one of us has rationalized the wholesale export of violence because it keeps us in comfort. Yuri has no real conscience (he even says at one point, quite logically, that "cars and cigarettes kill more people than guns do") but it's bad for business if he does; and what's more, he doesn't imagine that the CEOs of General Motors or Philip Morris toss and turn with pangs of guilt. He's providing a service, much as any entrepreneur would, and if he were to go away, there would be a replacement within minutes. Moreover, he's actually an agent of the state, for when presidents and otherwise "respectable" governments don't want to get their hands dirty, he steps in to supply weapons to those who might serve our nation's interests. But he really doesn't take sides, and he's not above providing the machinery of murder to those who may turn around and use it on his fellow countrymen. That's just the way it's done. Art imitates life.

 

When the film visits assorted hot spots around the world -- Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ukraine, Lebanon -- it is at its best because of the striking, unavoidable truth that ideology, as meaningful as it might be for those at the bottom (what drives those holding the weapons, after all?), is wholly absent at the top. It's about money, of course, and as long as someone is paying, his actions towards his fellow man are burdensome, if not irrelevant. I know, I know: "the world is a business," big fucking surprise. The originality is not in the sentiment, but in its existence on the big screen. For while Hollywood has tackled race, gender, and even sexuality with rare, but tangible nobility and power, it almost never grapples with the stinging truth that principles, values, and morality are empty terms used by the power elite to keep us compliant. There is only the bottom line, and every man, woman, or child who has died on the field of battle has done so in the name of profit, usually of the corporate variety. It's hardly unique to the United States, but as we tend to puff out our sanctimonious chest most often, it makes more sense to hold us more accountable. Last time I checked, the Sudan wasn't attempting to lecture the world about democracy and freedom.

Lord of War, then, will not educate the jaded, the cynical, and the misanthropic, for we long ago put to rest the quaint notion that mankind was worth saving. We're greedy, vain, and hopelessly vile, so let's move forward the final conflagration and stop fooling ourselves. And yet, there are a few naive idealists about who still cling to better days and that "wonderful world" of poetry and song, so this film might serve the purpose of enlightening those remaining holdouts. I nodded at the obviousness of it all, but others might recoil with horror, come to new conclusions, and sign on to the cause of nihilistic-fury. That might not be so easy given this film's limited reach (and appeal), but anything is possible in a cinematic world where penguins continue to light up the box office charts. And perhaps the film will make just enough money to attract some Fox executive, who will then compel his minions to blast away at the left-wing propaganda that dares to suggest that death is the biggest business of all.

 

 

And hey, what is a film like this without the small moments? I especially liked the wry observation from Liberia's president that because of the U.S. Supreme Court's installation of Bush in 2000, the rest of the world would no longer have to listen to Americans lecture on the sanctity of fair and open elections. This comment (in the movie) was made before the current debacle in Iraq, but it's always nice to hear a truism expressed by a foreigner, although that's usually how it's done in a country that no longer possesses a vigorous and independent press.

The film's primary weakness is the subplot involving Yuri's romance with a bubble-headed model, who eventually becomes his wife. The side story is clearly meant to show how Yuri is cold and heartless in every facet of his life (he even remarks in the narration how one might as well lie at the outset of a relationship, for that is what it will become in the end anyway), but it just bogs down the proceedings with the standard flirtations of conscience that have no place in such tale. Oh I see, he has a family now -- will he trade in the briefcase for legitimacy? To the film's credit, he does not come around, and even gets away clean in the end, despite the determination of a high-minded federal agent (played by Ethan Hawke). Yuri loses his wife, child, and parents (they disown him), but immediately after his release, he returns to the game that has given him so much. It is not for the money, as he states, but rather because he is so good at it. We never really understand why or how (I wouldn't even buy a refrigerator from such a man), but this isn't a masterpiece we're discussing here -- only a passable (and preachy) cautionary tale about the loss of a man's soul. Hell, there's even the brother (Jared Leto--vomit) who is so troubled by what he's doing that he sacrifices himself; a martyr to goodness and the love of man. He's a fool, of course, because the deal he tries to stop is carried through anyway and dozens of Africans are massacred.

So is this a recommendation? In a sense, yes, but less for the movie itself than for what it attempts to convey. Perhaps, then, the right-wingers would be right in that this is agit-prop with a singular goal in mind, but they would flatter Mr. Niccol by claiming the world will pause to notice. I suppose, then, I am guilty of the same crimes as those who rave endlessly about those Mormon movies, financed and directed by the Church itself. Those films are shabby, overwrought, and largely incompetent, but viewers don't care about production values so much as the final message. They'd be receptive if you showed them "Jesus Saves" flashing on a black screen for an hour and a half. While Lord of War is nowhere near the ineptitude of those religious productions, it is a slave to its viewpoint more than it is a great movie. Because I agree with what it says, I am inclined to play along, but Dr. Strangelove this ain't. But I hardly expected an earth-shattering event anyway. Sometimes it's enough to meet a fellow traveler who confirms your worst fears, nods wearily at our powerlessness, and sends us into the crisp afternoon with one less reason to stay alive. On this day, it's plenty.