The trick in making a film where the outcome is well known is to make what leads up to that outcome as suspenseful as a surprise ending would have been. PRESSURE is a sterling example of how that is done. Based on a true story, it is a lesser-known story of D-Day in which we learn of the unsung heroes who made victory possible, not just in the invasion itself but, as we are judiciously reminded in David Haig and Anthony Maras’ adaptation of Haig’s play of the same name, the war in Europe as a whole.
Those heretofore unsung heroes are the meteorologists tasked with predicting the weather on the Normandy coast on June 5, 1944. And from that date, there was obviously an issue about the weather conditions that day. This leads us to the core of the story, which was an argument between British Group Captain James Stagg (Andrew Scott), brought in at the last minute on the recommendation of Winston Churchll, and the suitably brash American officer, Irving Krick (Chris Messina), who has been forecasting weather for the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces since 1942, and before that, for Hollywood, with never a mistake. Their task is to do what has never been done before: come up with a long-range weather forecast for the invasion of Normandy, set to happen in 72 hours. Overseeing them, and occasionally refereeing, is the ci-mentioned Supreme Commander, General Dwight D. Eisenhower (Brendan Fraser), who is battling his own qualms about the invasion after a disastrous rehearsal that resulted in a body count from friendly fire.
The stakes are enormous, but the film keeps things on a very human level and with just enough meteorological jargon to make the arguments between Stagg and Krick both convincing and compelling. The wrong choice means thousands of lives lost, and adding to the drama is Stagg’s essential unlikability, as well his stubborn refusal to give the Allied commanders in Europe, all of them staring him down in a small room, the answer that they want to hear. The tension of we in the audience knowing he is right (the blessings of hindsight) and the daunting spectacle of the might of the Allies refusing to listen gives pause, and not a little anxiety if extrapolated out into decisions military and other where there is only one right answer and those is charge do not want to listen.
The dialogue is sharp, spare, and always to the point. Delivering it are actors who give urgency and conviction to their performances. Scott, introverted, measured, and precise, but never quite aloof as Stagg confronts the less formal American way of doing things and conveys in a speech that eschews sentiment but is rife with wonder what is magical to him about the why of weather when brought out of his shell. Messina, cocky with an easy arrogance and even easier charm is all impatience and resistance as Krick, with a condescension that is no match for Stagg’s dry wit and searing intelligence. Running interference is Kerry Condon as Eisenhower’s aide, Kay Summersby. Rumored to be more than that to the General, though that is not touched upon here and kudos for that, Summersby, as channeled by Condon is starchy, empathetic, and displays casual self-assurance in a decidedly masculine world. Towering above them is Fraser. His Eisenhower is a soldier who understands exactly what it is he is asking of every man he sends into battle and does so with unshakable resolve and palpable pity. Not for Fraser is the icon bereft of humanity, the paragon of military virtue has strength and sadness and both are virtues.
Direction by co-writer Maras is vibrant and expertly paced. Heated arguments, emotional blows, and charged silences reveal the increasing stresses as time ticks down. Sunshine is a rebuke, a rainstorm is redemption, and a tear is more than can be borne. When the landing finally happens, it is a brilliant distillation, cutting between a command post hundreds of miles away where information is scanty and delayed, and the carnage we have seen before. But in this representation, the last two shots, the ones that symbolize success echo with relief, elation, and anguish as they are a summing up of the savagery of war from which no one is immune.
From an opening, antithetical poetic shot of a young man bleeding into the surf, until a final reunion that won’t leave a dry eye in the house, PRESSURE is a superb précis on the fog of war with every implication involved dissected. The brutal and the sublime coalesce, bringing history not just to life, but also into the present with a startling jolt.
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