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The defining scene of Paul Greengrass’ Captain Phillips occurs in the last few
minutes, after the cargo-ship captain of the title, played by Tom Hanks, has
survived his ordeal of being taken hostage on a lifeboat by four Somali pirates
off the coast of Africa. It isn’t spoiling anything to note that the captain
makes it off the lifeboat alive—after all, the real-life Richard Phillips went
on to write a book about the harrowing 2009 hijacking of his ship, upon which
this movie (written by Billy Ray of Shattered Glass and The Hunger Games) is
based. But the way Greengrass treats the moment is something I won’t spoil,
except to say that this last scene exemplifies the compassion and truthfulness
that sets this movie apart from your run-of-the-mill maritime action thriller
(and that it very well may be the reason Tom Hanks wins an Oscar).
The 2009 hijacking of a U.S. cargo ship by Somali pirates — and a
Hollywood-ready rescue by Navy SEALs — was rare for a modern international
crisis, one not being tweeted or YouTube'd from the scene as it happened. That
won't happen often from now on. Director Paul Greengrass, who thrives on
re-creating such tight-spot tension, turns audiences into after-the-fact
eyewitnesses with Captain Phillips, docu-dramatizing the hijacking and four
harrowing days that followed. Knowing how the story ends doesn't spoil anything;
without social media's immediacy we haven't "seen" the movie before actually
seeing it.
The movie plays as verite' as scripted cinema can, with cinematographer Barry
Ackroyd (The
Hurt Locker) skillfully applying hand-held camera jitter for authenticity's
sake. It's a shame of sorts that such a celebrity as Tom Hanks plays the title
role, sticking out among mostly unknown faces, reminding us that what often
appears real isn't documentary. It would be a bigger shame if we didn't have his
performance to admire. Hanks portrays Capt. Richard Phillips, a veteran merchant
mariner who's departing to command what seems like just another cargo shipment
when the movie begins, this one from Oman to Kenya on the Maersk Alabama. His
wife Andrea (Catherine Keener) knows his job's risks, and the rewards their
children, home and future depend upon. Phillips' sense of duty and reasons to
live are quickly made clear.
The pirates also have their motivations, not all that different from Phillips'.
Billy Ray's screenplay briskly illustrates Somalia's poverty among fishermen
whose boats are hired by warlords to hijack ships for ransom. Plucked from a
daily lineup of desperate applicants is
Abduwali Muse, played by Somali emigre Barkhad Abdi, a runty, raw talent
literally sweating skeletal menace. Eventually a fascinating antagonism develops
between these two captains. Each is essentially operating alone. Most of
Phillips' crew is hidden below deck, and Muse's fractious band of pirates could
turn any minute. Phillips and Muse needle each other, lie and call bluffs, one
being steadily manipulated by the other. Hanks and Abdi are the striking
cultural contrast and emoting equals this movie requires at its core.
Like Greengrass' previous true-life thriller
United 93,
Captain Phillips pays dogged attention to crisis details: evasive tactics
delaying the pirates boarding, the big-stick posturing of U.S. military forces,
and a final act rivaling the finale of Zero Dark Thirty
for sniper-bullet intensity. Henry Jackman's tasteful musical score doesn't
announce tension but frequently enhances it, another measure of the movie's
effective understatement. Although Captain Phillips expertly establishes the
stakes and dangers Phillips faced during his ordeal, the moments seared into my
memory occur after the situation is under control. At this point in his
celebrated career, there shouldn't be much new that Hanks can show us. But there
is, as the actor reaches deep inside to express the relief of dodging death as
I've never seen it played before. He's in shock; we're awed. It might make a
great nominee clip at next year's Oscars.
Although the pace flags while we’re waiting for the SEALS to arrive, the
eventual rescue operation is staged with great skill and tension (and even, rare
for Greengrass, the occasional stationary establishing shot). The scenes in
which the hijackers meet their various fates—I won’t spoil them if you don’t
remember the story, but none are pleasant—have something of the feel of the raid
on the Bin Laden compound in Zero Dark Thirty,
a taste of bitter, ambivalent victory. And then comes that transcendent last
scene, in which the man whose side we’ve barely left during this incredible
ordeal is suddenly revealed as the best kind of hero, not super at all but
ordinary and vulnerable and human. It’s not the expected tearful reunion between
Phillips and his wife; that would be too easy. It’s a unique form of closure,
and a suitably powerful end to this potent story.
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