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Christopher Nolan Durnkik movie review

England's extraordinary pyrrhic thrashing or reverse triumph of 1940 has been conveyed to the screen as an unnerving, shattering display by Christopher Nolan. He dives you into the clamorous clearing of the English Expeditionary Power from northern France after the disastrous clash of Dunkirk – helped by the now incredible flotilla of little regular citizen make. It is part catastrophe film, part compacted war epic, and all frightfully fitting for these Brexit times.

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Nolan's Dunkirk has that sort of bursting extra large screen sureness that I last found in James Cameron's Titanic or Paul Greengrass' Assembled 93. It is altogether different to his past element, the bafflingly overhyped science fiction convolution Interstellar. This is an intense, eminently made film with a story to tell, dodging war porn for something barren and whole-world destroying, a beachscape of disgrace, covered with officers zombified by vanquish, an inauspiciously male world with barely any ladies on screen.


It is Nolan's best film up until this point. It additionally has Hans Zimmer's best melodic score: a ghostly, keening, moaning backup to a bad dream, changing at long last to semi Elgar varieties for the deliverance itself. Zimmer makes a ceaseless pantonal mourn, which emulates the plunge plane shout and squeamish turning of the tides, and it works in antithesis to the stunning big guns and assault rifle shoot that essentially removed the fillings from my teeth and sent them in a shrapnel fusillade everywhere throughout the silver screen assembly hall.

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