Andrew Garfield makes a persuasive conscientious objector in Mel Gibson’s forceful war drama. The combat is skilfully staged and hard to bear, though Gibson’s relish for it complicates the film’s respect for a man who refuses to kill.
Mel Gibson’s Hacksaw Ridge is a forceful, affecting war film whose fondness for bloodshed sometimes makes its praise of non-violence difficult to accept. Its subject is Desmond T. Doss, the conscientious objector and medic played by Andrew Garfield, and it takes his faith seriously enough to risk looking unfashionably earnest. There is no protective wink, no suggestion that his beliefs are merely an eccentricity to be tolerated. We recommend it to those who can face graphic combat, with reservations about how insistently Gibson directs our response.
Garfield gives the film its strongest reason to stay with Doss. His gentleness feels considered, and there is enough stubbornness in the performance to suggest how exhausting such a man might be to argue with. We believe that this person would hold to his convictions when doing so becomes dangerous; Garfield does not have to advertise toughness to persuade us. The tenderness matters because Gibson surrounds him with so much physical punishment. A more solemn performance could have made Doss hard to care about.
Robert Schenkkan and Andrew Knight’s screenplay is less curious about those convictions than Garfield’s performance makes us want it to be. It establishes the depth of Doss’s belief, then too often treats that depth as sufficient explanation. We wanted more room to consider the difficulties of refusing violence while depending on men prepared to use it. That question is built into the premise, but the straightforward storytelling and religious imagery tend to settle it on our behalf.
The battlefield scenes have a physical clarity that helps explain their impact. Barry Robison’s production design gives the fighting a recognisable space, and John Gilbert’s editing keeps it intelligible through the onslaught. Simon Duggan’s photography makes the bodily damage hard to escape, so the violence seldom becomes an indistinct blur that we can watch comfortably. We were horrified by the blood and torn bodies; Gibson’s sustained attention to the injuries makes it difficult to enjoy the action without registering what it does to people.
Yet Gibson also makes that action exciting, and at times the excitement overwhelms the horror. The violence is staged with such relish that another burst of carnage starts to feel like an attraction the film is pleased to offer. That is our main reservation, and it cannot be dismissed simply by pointing to Doss’s pacifism. During these stretches, the fighting threatens to distract us from the man whose beliefs we are meant to be considering.
Rupert Gregson-Williams’s score adds another layer of encouragement to feel exactly what the film wants. We could have done with less of it around material already so heavily stressed by the writing and direction. Garfield’s performance is persuasive without that assistance, and the music sometimes leaves too little room for us to decide how we feel. Still, the film’s willingness to treat religious faith as a serious part of a person’s life gives the familiar wartime hero story something worth considering.
At 139 minutes, this asks for a substantial stretch of the evening and a strong stomach. The choice to centre a war film on a medic who refuses to kill gives Gibson a demanding task: making the work of saving people compelling amid all that combat. Garfield gives that choice enough weight to make the film worth its excesses. Choose something else if graphic injury is your limit.
