David Simon and Ed Burns make the Marines’ boredom, banter and confusion into absorbing television. The dense military language can be exhausting, but the performances and attention to ordinary detail reward the effort.
Generation Kill is a war drama worth the effort it asks for: funny, troubling and unusually attentive to how soldiers pass the hours. David Simon and Ed Burns adapt Evan Wright’s book by keeping close to US Marines during the early invasion of Iraq. The talk is dense, the language filthy, and the ordinary business of getting through a day occupies much of our attention. There is little interest in making these men easy to like. The series gives us time to understand why they can bear one another.
Alexander Skarsgård’s Brad Colbert is a useful centre for that crowded company. His restraint gives us someone to watch when the conversation threatens to swallow everyone in it. James Ransone, as Josh Ray Person, makes the profane talk funny without smoothing away its capacity to irritate. We laughed at the Marines’ banter, then felt uncomfortable with how quickly we had accepted its terms. Simon and Burns let the jokes establish the men’s closeness while leaving their ugliness audible.
Stark Sands gives Nathaniel Fick a seriousness that helps the quieter exchanges hold our attention. With so many voices competing, a performance that does not insist on being noticed matters. Directors Susanna White and Simon Cellan Jones allow camaraderie, boredom and fear to exist together without announcing a change of mood each time. Their handling of the ensemble makes the men feel accustomed to one another long before we are accustomed to them.
Ivan Strasburg’s cinematography maintains that closeness, giving the confusion a rough, immediate quality. It suits a story in which the men understand only part of what is happening around them. Rob Harris’s production design is persuasive in the mundane details, which have to withstand long stretches spent waiting and talking. The care here matters because the series keeps asking us to look at the ordinary business of soldiering, and makes few concessions to anyone waiting for the next burst of action.
That talk is also the chief obstacle. The military language demands concentration, and the sheer volume of it can make an exchange harder to follow than it needs to be. Editors Jason Krasucki and Oral Norrie Ottey give conversations room to develop, though some have made their point before the series is ready to leave them. Seven episodes allow us to become familiar with the men, but a few shorter exchanges would make the stretches of waiting less wearing.
As a war drama, it is strongest when the men’s dedication and their failings are equally apparent. Simon and Burns give them enough humanity for the ugly talk to remain uncomfortable, even once we understand why it binds the group together. That close attention does limit the view of the invasion, and anyone wanting a broader political account will need to look elsewhere. The confusion is hard to dismiss when we have spent so much time with the people caught in it.
This is demanding television, and we would not choose it for an evening of half-watching. Its humour depends on listening closely, and its account of fear becomes more affecting as the voices become familiar. Watch it when you can give it your attention, and keep the language out of the workplace.
