War Dogs

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Todd Phillips/Starring: Jonah Hill, Miles Teller, Bradley Cooper and Ana de Armas

Watching War Dogs; director Todd Phillips' comedy/drama about young, novice gun-runners who almost make the score of their short-lived careers, I couldn't help but be reminded of two things: 1.) Andrew Niccols' Lord of War, which deals with arms dealing and 2.) Martin Scorsese's Good Fellas and Wolf of Wall Street. War Dogs and Lord of War are only related by subject matter but Phillips' film bears the unmistakable stamp of Scorsese's influence--maybe a little too much so. The editing, the use of freeze-frame, the main character's narration and the persistent presence of its classic rock soundtrack are very much Scorsese. The based-on-actual-events morality tale of young men finding and basking conspicuously in ill-gotten wealth before greed and ill-fortune become their undoing is also a premise one will often find in Scorsese's oeuvre. Be that as it may, Phillips' film is quite entertaining; a spirited telling of a true story, which is based on the New York Times article Arms and the Dudes, by Guy Lawson. The film is also helped along with terrific performances by Jonah Hill and Miles Teller. War Dogs may not be a stunner but it is engaging and it makes a reasonably cogent comment about the perils of opportunistic capitalism.

Miles Teller plays David Packouz; a young man earning an unremarkable but honest living as a massage therapist. When we first see him, he is sitting in his shabby car, which is parked in a posh Miami neighborhood. As he tokes a joint, a security guard approaches his car and urges him to move on. Packouz informs the guard he's waiting to serve a client, then is mildly scolded for smoking pot before driving away. The scene cuts to him massaging a man, who lets his towel fall provocatively to the floor before Packouz rebuffs his pass by awkwardly returning the towel to its proper place.

Trying to improve his financial situation, Packouz tries his hand selling quality bed-sheets to retirement homes. His idea's non-viability is apparent when he actually meets with a retirement home manager, who talks frankly about the preposterousness of old bodies wrapped in Egyptian cotton. Dejected from a lack of interest and the fact that all his savings is tied up in the sheets, Packouz maintains his job as a massage therapist.

His life changes dramatically when he sees his one-time best friend; his old school chum Efraim Diveroli (Jonah Hill), at a funeral for a mutual friend. The two make friendly eye-contact and afterward embrace. After catching-up with old friend conversation, Packouz learns Diveroli has gone into business selling arms. Before long, he invites Packouz to go into business with him, selling arms to the U.S. Government. Packouz resists, particularly after Diveroli mentions being cheated of $70,000 by a former associate.

Packouz is nevertheless intrigued, as he visits his friend's office to hear Diveroli's detailed explanation of how the government broadened the competition for arms sales during the Iraqi War. Packouz listens intently as Diveroli relates the history of how George W. Bush's administration, seeking a level playing field in the arms market, made it possible for virtually anyone to buy and sell large quantities of weapons. Diveroli then shows Packouz the government's long list of weapons contracts on a federal website. As Diveroli is keen to point out, the major arms dealers pursue the more lucrative contracts, while the lesser contracts--still worth millions--are made available to smaller companies. Packouz is initially reluctant after listening to Diveroli's pitch, citing his and his wife's opposition to the war in Iraq. Diveroli justifies his position by declaring his business to be pro-money rather than pro-war. Packouz agrees to a 70-30 partnership, but rather than face virulent opposition from his wife Iz (Ana de Armas), he tells her the business involves selling bed-sheets to the American military. In on the deal is Diveroli's silent partner and financial-backer Ralph Slutzky (Kevin Pollak); a successful businessman who owns a chain of dry cleaners in the Miami area. Packouz's decision to join his friend is helped along after Iz announces her pregnancy.

Diveroli and Packouz (and the audience as well), become quickly acquainted with the political complexities of the business when the two men take on a contract to supply an army captain named Philip Santos (Patrick St. Esprit) with several thousand 9mm Berettas. Hoping to ship directly from the factory in Italy, Packouz and Diveroli discover Italian arms companies are forbidden to deliver arms directly to the war zone. While Santos becomes impatient with the delays, Packouz and Diveroli scramble to find a solution to their problem. They manage to hatch a clever plan by which the guns are to be be routed to Iraq via Jordan;, an Italian ally. But they encounter another snag when the guns are seized in Jordanian customs, making it necessary for them to fly to the country to free the shipment themselves. Meanwhile, Santos presses Packouz and Diveroli for his guns while Iz grows suspicious of her husband's business.

One of the more entertaining sequences in the film follows when Packouz and Diveroli find themselves negotiating the release of the guns with a Jordanian who has connections in customs, only to find their only means of delivering the shipment is by truck--a very dangerous proposition. Their driver gives them "fifty-fifty," odds of reaching their destination, which does little to gain their confidence. The subsequent drive through the desert is met with some harrowing moments as they face a checkpoint and later, at a deserted gas station, Packouz sees two trucks of armed men heading in their direction. Their escape is fraught with peril and high comedy as the driver is forced to pore gasoline directly into the tank as they make their getaway. Only the intervention of a U.S. helicopter and some Humvees keep their truck from being overrun.

When Packouz and Diveroli reach Captain Santos, they learn their journey by truck was actually a daring drive through what the captain calls the "triangle of death." Diveroli, enchanted by their unwitting act of bravery, struts arrogantly around the compound.

Flush with a success, Packouz and Diveroli's lifestyles change dramatically shortly thereafter, as we see them driving matching Porsches and moving into separate apartments in the same Miami, luxury high-rise. They also expand their office to accommodate a larger staff, who they train in the finer points of buying and selling arms. But we begin to see signs of discord between Packouz and Diveroli when the former discovers the $70,000 his partner claims he was cheated out of is actually money he swindled from a partner. Distrust deepens after Packouz draws up a formal partnership agreement, which he has Diveroli sign. As the business prospers, Packouz notices its negative impact on his marriage, as he is frequently called away.

Packouz' business relationship and friendship with Diveroli are tested when they bid on a contract worth a mind-boggling $300 million dollars, which involves the U.S. government's plan to train and arm the Afghan army with a vast supply of weaponry, including AK-47s. The significant part of the deal becomes the million rounds of ammunition needed for the guns. Finding themselves over their heads with the logistics of shipping a mass quantity of ammunition, the deal nearly falls through until they make the acquaintance of a notorious arms dealer named Henry Girard (Bradley Cooper). After a Vegas arms show, Girard offers them a can't-lose solution to their problem. Packouz and Diveroli accept his help, in spite of his name being on a terrorist watch list. Over Packouz's objections, Diveroli secures the deal.

The film's final third act is fraught with betrayal, marital woes, Packouz's near death in Albania and a major deal gone awry. With it comes moralistic finger-wagging but oddly enough, no end titles inform us of the various character's fates.

As stated earlier, the movie felt very Scorsese-like. That in itself isn't a problem but the method of storytelling has been done so often it feels formulaic. Phillips is hardly the first to mimic Scorsese and it's certain he won't be the last but we can guess where the story will go merely from the way it's told. We know Good Fellas and The Wolf of Wall Street will end badly for the characters because Scorsese enjoys telling stories with character arcs that follow a steep rise and precipitous fall, with the requisite, intoxicating brush with Mephistophelian success in between.

But the film moves along at a heady pace; the character's misadventures make the story a fun and sometimes thrilling romp. It's also enjoyable to watch Miles Teller and Jonah Hill, who are quite excellent as the respective naif and the more worldly and ethically compromised partner. It's probably no accident that Hill was cast in Phillips' film; as he was also in Scorsese's Wolf.

No development in the film is particularly surprising, as we know from watching the trailer that no film about arms dealing will end well; Hollywood's liberal slant wouldn't permit anything else.

I've seen better films of late but Phillips' is a piquant coda to the late summer movie season. If it isn't groundbreaking, it also isn't dreary or dull.

Whiplash

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Damien Chazelle/Starring: J.K. Simmons, Miles Teller, Paul Reiser and Melissa Benoist

The drive to be great; to overcome discouragement and self-criticism, as well as the criticism of others, might also be a lonely, solitary pursuit. But in director Damien Chazelle's Whiplash, the call to greatness might also mean having to overcome a mentor's furious, almost unscalable standards.

The story seems simple: a young student named Andrew Neyman (Miles Teller), studying jazz drumming at a prestigious music school in New York City, encounters a teacher named Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), whose tough reputation is enough to make any prospective musician quake with fear and anxiety. But as the story unfolds, we see that the psychological pugilism between student and instructor is anything but simple.

Andrew is determined to be one of the greats; his bedroom wall photograph of jazz great Buddy Rich reflects his lofty ambitions. His love for jazz and his knowledge of the genre is extensive. On a first date with a young woman named Nicole (Melissa Benoist), he is able to identify the obscure jazz music playing in the background in his favorite pizza place.

Andrew makes it clear to Nicole and to everyone else his intentions to be one of the greats; even if it means being in exile from meaningful relationships.

When Andrew first encounters Fletcher, the young student is playing a drum-kit inside an empty room at the school. Fletcher hears him, then watches for a few seconds before Andrew notices the teacher and stops. Fletcher encourages him to play and when Andrew stops again, he notices the teacher is gone. The exchange, though seemingly innocuous, carries a whiff of foreboding.

After Fletcher steps into class to relieve a fellow instructor, he notices Andrew. Fletcher offers him fulsome praise by announcing to the gathering, "we have another Buddy Rich here," then invites him to join his advanced class the next day. Andrew is further encouraged by an exchange he has with Fletcher outside class when the instructor tells him in an amicable, benign way to have fun and relax. Feeling the flush of Fletcher's avuncular urgings, he joins the class in playing a jazz piece called Whiplash. But after a few stops, where Fletcher warmly chides Andrew for "rushing" his part, he stops, lifts a drum cymbal and hurls it at the young man's head, the young drummer manages to dodge it just in time. The stunned Andrew gapes at Fletcher as the enraged instructor shouts "Were you rushing or were you dragging?" Which is followed by a verbally abusive stream of threats and insults Andrew is ill-prepared to hear. The attack elicits a tear, which Fletcher seizes upon to offer more humiliating words. The abuse extends to the rest of the class in the form of homophobic slurs and homoerotic comments. Fletcher's vocal assault immediately called to mind R. Lee Ermey's rants in Full Metal Jacket for obscene intensity and psychological brutality.

As Fletcher's class prepares for a competition, his abuse withers the class into silence and anxiety and though Andrew receives his lion's share of the physical and mental venom, his tenacity to be great remains. His vigorous practice sessions leave his fingers, hands and drum snare bloody and puddled with sweat.

Andrew's drive to be exceptional takes its toll on his relationships. He tells Nicole his time with her is interfering with his musical pursuit while he vexes his cousins with his dismissive, pointed comments about what he feels are their mediocre, academic accomplishments.

When the jazz class is set to perform at another competition, Andrew is left to his own devices to secure transportation to the gig, which he resolves by renting a car. While recklessly speeding to the performance, his car is violently blindsided by a truck and rather than await medical care, he races to the hall, bloodied and ragged. He manages to arrive on time, but barely, much to Fletcher's exasperation and to the shock and dismay of his fellow musicians. The scene effectively conveys his manic drive and stoic intensity.

Fletcher's abuse continues, which leads to Andrew's self-dismissal from school and abandonment of his dream. Fletcher's classroom methods come to the attention of investigators, who prod a reluctant Andrew into making a damning statement against his former instructor. The investigation comes on the heels of the suicide of one of Fletcher's former students, who was apparently victimized and driven to the act while under his tutelage.

The final encounter between Fletcher and Andrew comes after a chance meeting on the street, where the resentful teacher and his former student share a drink. Fletcher invites Andrew to join his jazz band for a performance at a jazz festival; an event that brings their relationship to a head and tests the young musician's creative resolve.

J.K. Simmons, who is widely known as a character actor, is given his first chance to co-shoulder a film and he doesn't fritter the opportunity. Fletcher is a volatile nightmare, with his furious temper and unconscionable aggression. Simmons doesn't depict him as something otherworldly and malign, but someone human. His motivations seem very reasonable and sensible when he isn't hissing and baring fangs inside the classroom. Simmons always had range and depth, which he is finally able to demonstrate here.

Simmons's performance would be a soliloquy in an echo chamber if he didn't have Miles Teller to play off. Andrew could have been a self-pitying, doughy victim but Teller finds the fascinating nuance in the character; his prickly regard for his peers, his monomaniacal pursuit of his goal and his abrupt dismissal of everything that isn't drumming, evinced in his callous break-up with Nicole; a mistake he is later unable to correct.

Simmons' muscly biceps, bald head and intense brow make him an interesting physical adversary to Miles Teller; whose baby fat face and innocent, school boy eyes make for a visually arresting contrast.

But though Simmons and Teller mesmerize, the film has its glaring flaws. That Chazelle expects us to believe a professor's abusive classroom behavior would go unreported and unnoticed for so long is a bit much to ignore. But even if we overlook such literalism, that which is the film's strength is also the source of its greatest handicap. Though Simmons and Teller perform the hell out of Chazelle's script, so much of the drama is over-the-top and overly stylized. The R. Lee Ermey evocation bothered me too. What makes sense on Marine base seems comically hyperbolic in a classroom. I guess Chazelle wants Fletcher's story about a cymbal thrown at Charley Parker to make his behavior seem plausible and justified. Maybe it does but the film lacks subtlety. The violent, in-your-face-screaming robs the film of its psychological tension. In The Paper Chase, John Houseman's Charles W. Kingsfield manages to frighten and intimidate a classroom (and the audience) with his unnerving wit and intellect and his ability to wreck his Harvard student's self-esteem with the merest barb or insult. Fletcher's verbal bludgeoning is hard to take seriously after awhile and even in its most frightening moments, it's distractingly absurd.

I also found the blood and sweat more stylistic excess. I realize Chazelle wants to convey the violence and passion of creative expression, but the sight of so much blood and the deluge of sweat overstates and overpowers his message.

I think Whiplash is a terrific performance film, but as a whole, it doesn't work for me. It trips over its own ferocity. Even so, I would still encourage others to see it. It has some fascinating attributes. Teller's technical mastery of the drums is one such strength. Chazelle's film is hardly dull or silly; it has an energy surplus.

The cure for what ails Whiplash can be expressed concisely: more psychology, less psycho.