Ill-Informed Gadfly

Finally, a movie about the Iraq nightmare with sting and insight. We should expect nothing less from Brian De Palma, whose haunting masterpiece “Casualties of War” is one of the greatest Vietnam movies. “Redacted” explores essentially the same subject — the rape and murder of a young woman by rogue U.S. soldiers. But De Palma’s aesthetic approach could not be more different. “Casualties of War” used all the tools at De Palma’s disposal to enhance the visceral, emotional and intellectual impact of the story. In “Redacted,” De Palma cedes the point of view entirely to the participants, piecing together the narrative from a variety of media: the soldiers themeslves, who videotape their exploits; a French documentary crew that follows them; surveillance camera footage; TV news reports; and video blogs. The U.S. occupation of Iraq, of course, has been documented on video more than any war in history; yet as the title suggests, the truth of what’s going on there remains hidden. De Palma seeks to right that injustice, fictionalizing a 2006 incident in which U.S. troops raped an Iraqi teenager and murdered her and her family.

With an eye toward maximum realism, De Palma casts unknown actors who affect the unself-conscious behavior of soldiers goofing off for a comrade’s home-video camera. The result: There are no fully realized performances in “Redacted,” and the movie does not attempt to establish character. In “Casualties of War,” De Palma’s God’s-eye view provided insight into what provokes the young, brutish Sgt. Meserve (Sean Penn) to commit the kidnapping and rape. “Redacted” attempts to be less stylized but ends up more abstract: The soldiers are there simply to illustrate the consequences of sending ignorant and ill-prepared young men to occupy a foreign country. De Palma argues that point persuasively, but the movie still suffers from having ciphers at its center. One exception: a truly chilling, affectless monologue by the lead rapist, Pfc. Reno Flake (Patrick Carroll), about his violent family history.

De Palma isn’t quite as successful with the “French documentary crew” footage, which he sets to the beautiful Handel sarabande that Stanley Kubrick used in “Barry Lyndon.” He clearly intends to satirize thick-headed filmmakers who obfuscate in their quest for unvarnished truth. By sticking to their thesis of an urban checkpoint as a neverending existential crisis, the French don’t grasp the import of what they see. But to accomplish this goal, De Palma has to put his camera in places where the documentary crew would not be.

He fares better, and stages some truly sickening content, with his approximation of videos on Islamic extremist websites. Another bold move: showing how the attempt to create a provocative internet video turns even antiwar activists into shrill violence-mongers.

Intentionally fragmented, uneven and off-putting, “Redacted” is difficult to sit through. If De Palma was interested in getting the truth about Iraq out to a mass audience, he’s failed, because his strategy turns the movie into a fringe document likely to be embraced only by cineastes and anti-war activists — the viewers pre-sold on De Palma’s message. Perhaps that’s yet another point of the relentlessly postmodern “Redacted” — we’re so overwhelmed by media that we simply seek out what suits our preconceived notions. Still, those who sit through “Redacted” deserve credit — they’re willing to engage with subjects that are all too comfortable to ignore.