Michael Bay's '13 Hours' review, starring John Krasinski, James Badge Dale and Pablo Schreiber

[yasr_overall_rating]

Michael Bay has been a lot of things in his career, but rarely has he been political. His films, as loud, wearisome and monotonous as they can become, typically aim for mindless entertainment and don’t reach much higher or lower. He knows himself, and he knows his audience, and though 2013’s Pain & Gain suggested some (mild) growth from the filmmaker, Bay isn’t likely to change anytime soon. But the man seems to have loftier ambitions in mind for his latest, 13 Hours.

Armed with the subtitle The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi, the film — as you’d expect — seeks to tell the “untold” story of the six CIA security contractors who undertook the desperate defense incentive of the American Ambassador and his staff within their diplomatic compound. These courageous men, Jack Da Silva (John Krasinski), Mark “Oz” Geist (Max Martini), Boon (David Denman), Kris “Tanto” Paronto (Pablo Schreiber), John “Tig” Tiegen (Dominic Fumusa) and Glen “Bub” Doherty (Toby Stephens), are painted as valorously and virtuous as you’d expect. They are all your average, good-hearted American boy who want to support their friends, drink a cool one, shoot the shit and defend the ole’ U.S. of A. Their portrayals are noble and mildly sincere, and when the terrorist attacks go down, efforts are made to keep their humanity in the check. But there’s a problem.

As weird as it may be to say, Bay’s intentions are actually pretty good here — at least, mildly. He wants to portray war for what it is, warts and all. He doesn’t want to shy away from the ugliness. He doesn’t want the constant sense of threat to feel unearned. And he’s not entirely unsuccessful. There are genuine moments of intensity throughout, and the performances from the TV veteran cast — also including Breaking Bad highlight David Costabile as The Chief — do as well as could be with their wonky, stiff dialogue and half-developed characters to make the emotions felt and the ferocity of war heard. But Bay —despite going a little out of his comfort zone for once — is not Kathryn Bigelow. This isn’t his Hurt Locker, and 13 Hours is especially not his Zero Dark Thirty — despite how much it desperately tries to be.

Like always, Bay knows how to blow up things real good. The violence is visceral, consistent and unflinching, but never in the right ways. The stakes are established early on, if often in the most blunt and laconic of ways. The pieces are put into place enough to make it clear what’s about to go down when it does. And the suspense is noted throughout. But it’s never without any variety or feeling. Like Black Hawk Voice but without the characters strong enough to earn the emotionally intensity, 13 Hours plays like a chaotic blur of mayhem and violence, without any of Bay’s signature flair or care for style.

It’s a barrage of gunfire, headshots and explosions. Lots and lots of explosions, and noises and yelling and chaos. And while this is meant to reflect the blow-by-blow state-of-mind of the characters, the feelings aren’t felt for them. Despite loyalty the audience may automatically give these characters for serving our country, there’s very little personality on their part to make them unique or interesting, or stand out in the face of battle. Typically hidden behind masks, heavy gear and high artillery, it’s hard enough to separate them from one another, let alone give enough emotional investment to want to know what’s happen to them.

What results, then, is practically Benghazi: The Video Game, with our place-less, distinct-less real-life personalities run from location after location, dodging bullet after firebomb, to make it safely to their next destination. Much like Act of Valor a few years prior, the consideration put into making the action feel as authentic as possible is honorable, but fails to serve it’s full purpose if we don’t care enough about the people affected by the action. Every scene begins to play out like the other until the very end, and after seeing the same brain splattering and explosions over-and-over again, it grows tedious and stale — not to mention completely overblown and incessantly dizzying at an exasperating 147 minutes. The extended running time is never forgotten and always wearing, and as the mayhem only grows more consistent, it begins to get hard justifying why you’re still sitting there watching this all unfold.

And this isn’t even getting into the politics of it all. A lot of controversy will be made —if it hasn’t transpired already — about Bay’s viewpoints and the film’s heavy-handed stance on this contentious topic. But honestly, it’s rah-rah patriotism and conservative lean-points are among the least of its problems. All things considered, 13 Hours focuses more on the people than the situation at hand, and it tries to let their humanity speak for their actions at all given times. Bay learned from Pearl Harbor not to add any fictional characters to this real-life situation, and he tries to keep the reality of the situation in check before it all goes to hell again and again and again. When it does (ever briefly) slow down to the let the characters breathe, it’s formulaic and cheesy, but it shows signs of development, maturity and — dare I say — nuance from the Transformers director.

Much like the aforementioned Pain & Gain, when it actually trusts his actors and doesn’t let them get lost in his parade of carnage, he shows signs of competent direction and some moderate restraint. And these moments are both all the more appreciated and all the more aggravating in the scheme of it all. Because it shows signs of development, but with no care for how they factor into the final film. They’re just another piece of the puzzle, and shows Bay has no real appreciation for anything other than hitting the beats he’s expected to lay out. You see, Bay’s a commercial director in every sense, and I’ve often felt that his biggest flaw isn’t just that he relies on his sophomoric tendencies, but that he refuses to use these tendencies to anything other than creating repetition and, eventually, self-indulgence. Unlike Lone Survivor — which, despite its own flaws, actually stands well above anything Bay set to accomplish here — there’s no build-up or emotional payoff once the shit hits the fan. After the attacks come and the violence ensues, it’s goes down the same road multiple times, in multiple cycles.

Yet again, there’s simply no diversity from Bay. Especially here. He lays out his cards early and feels satisfied just playing the same tricks over and over again until he decides, this time, that he wants to win an Oscar in the last ten minutes. Then you get all the tacky speeches , boring patriotism and all the unfortunate side effects that still haven’t worn off from his Pearl Harbor days. He even recreates the “iconic” shot of following-the-missile-until-it-hits-the-ground that he used in that 2001 film! All this is to say that — despite all the little ways Bay does change, and the various different ways the filmmaker wants to change — he’ll probably always be the same. He’s still the forceful, tone-deaf filmmaker he always was, and where he’d probably admit this before, here he’s under the illusion that he’s making great art. But a Bay film is, sadly, still just a Bay film — whether it focuses on humanoid cars or real-life heroes. It’s an invasion to the senses almost as much as it was a blow to the armed forces, and if this is how Bay thinks he should respect our soldiers, than that’s a tragedy of its own.