The Wall (2017)

Doug Liman's 2017 thriller, The Wall, presents a stark, claustrophobic survival narrative set against the backdrop of the Iraq War. While the film boasts a compelling premise and a tight, contained structure, it ultimately struggles to transcend its limitations, resulting in an experience that, for this critic, feels more like a missed opportunity than a fully realized cinematic achievement.

The film plunges viewers into the arid, unforgiving landscape of Iraq in 2007. The United States, at this point, was ostensibly on the cusp of formulating a strategy for troop withdrawal, a recurring theme that underscored the protracted nature of the conflict. Into this tense environment are sent Staff Sergeant Shane Matthews, portrayed by WWE superstar John Cena, and his spotter, Sergeant Allen Isaac, played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Their mission: to investigate an oil pipeline under construction. This seemingly routine assignment quickly devolves into a desperate fight for survival when Matthews is fatally wounded by an unseen Iraqi sniper.

In the ensuing chaos, Isaac sustains a leg injury while attempting to aid his fallen comrade. He manages to find precarious refuge behind a crumbling, derelict wall, a physical barrier that becomes the central stage for the unfolding drama. His only means of communication is a damaged radio, through which he desperately tries to call for backup. His efforts yield a single, albeit unreliable, voice on the other end. This voice, belonging to the unseen Iraqi sniper, played by Laith Nakli, initially offers a glimmer of hope but soon reveals itself to be the very tormentor who has trapped Isaac in his deadly predicament.

The single-location survival thriller is a genre with a decidedly mixed track record. While The Wall attempts to distinguish itself with a more intelligent and agile plot than some of its predecessors, the execution falls short of its potential. The film’s narrative momentum hinges almost entirely on the dialogue between Isaac and his unseen adversary, a dynamic that, while occasionally tense, proves insufficient to sustain the film's runtime. The reliance on samey close-ups and the limited visual palette further contribute to a sense of stagnation.

A significant portion of the film's shortcomings can be attributed to the casting of Aaron Taylor-Johnson in the lead role. While John Cena, in his role as the experienced sniper Matthews, injects a welcome dose of charisma and screen authority, his presence is fleeting. Cena, who has successfully navigated a transition from wrestling to acting, reminiscent of Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's career trajectory, demonstrates a natural command that elevates his limited screen time. The shift to Taylor-Johnson, however, proves to be a deflating experience. His performance, characterized by an inward focus and a visible struggle to convey the escalating terror, fails to fully embody the sun-baked desperation Isaac should be experiencing. He appears too much in his own head, allowing the audience to witness his thought process rather than experiencing the raw fear.

The film's central conflict revolves around the mysterious Iraqi sniper, whose identity and motivations remain deliberately ambiguous. The narrative toys with the possibility that he might be the infamous sniper Juba, a figure whose very existence is debated. This element of mystery provides some of the film's more engaging moments, offering brief bursts of excitement when new details about the unseen antagonist are revealed. However, these moments are too infrequent to salvage the overall experience.

Director Doug Liman, known for a diverse filmography that includes both critically acclaimed and less successful ventures, appears to treat The Wall as a technical exercise. Alongside cinematographer Roman Vasyanov and editor Julia Bloch, Liman focuses on staging the entire feature within the confined space surrounding Isaac and his crumbling sanctuary. Yet, this constrained approach, rather than fostering ingenuity, seems to have resulted in a lack of genuine engagement from the filmmakers themselves. The result is a project that feels like a joyless grind, a creative endeavor undertaken without palpable enthusiasm.

The film's thematic ambitions are also muddled. The Wall clearly aims to be an anti-war parable, a critique of American intervention in Iraq. Liman, who previously directed the earnest war thriller Fair Game, seems drawn to exploring the complexities and consequences of conflict. However, The Wall's message is delivered erratically. The Iraqi sniper is presented as a dual entity: at times, a terrifying, almost supernatural force akin to a horror movie villain like Jason Voorhees, striking with unnerving precision when least expected. At other moments, he shifts into a voice of moral reason, directly criticizing American actions. The film reveals that the titular wall was once part of a school destroyed by American bombing, a detail that frames the sniper's actions as a tragic response to American aggression.

This contradictory portrayal creates significant problems. Politically, the film becomes incoherent, attempting to simultaneously depict the sniper as a monstrous movie antagonist and a righteous figure delivering a moral indictment. This internal conflict mangles any clear message the film might have intended to convey. Narratively, it makes it impossible for the audience to fully invest in rooting against the sniper. Consequently, the film devolves into a tedious waiting game, observing the struggle between two characters neither of whom elicits strong sympathy.

While the initial twenty minutes offer a compelling and well-executed military procedural, the film's overall impact is diminished by its lack of substance. The dialogue, particularly Laith Nakli's insinuating and melodramatic vocal performance, carries a significant portion of the film's thriller elements. Without Nakli's contribution, the film would lose the vast majority of its effectiveness. Even with his performance, the remaining tension is derived from moments of tense stillness and the unsettling feeling of anticipating an unknown, potentially dire, outcome.

Ultimately, The Wall feels like a substantial disappointment, a "big sack full of nothing at all," as one critic aptly put it. It's a film that, despite its intriguing premise and the talent involved, fails to coalesce into a satisfying or memorable cinematic experience. The potential for a taut, thought-provoking thriller is present, but it remains largely unrealized, leaving the audience with a sense of anticlimax and a lingering feeling of what might have been.