
Alex Garland’s Unflinching Vision: Why 'Warfare' Isn’t a Simple Anti-War Statement
When people make movies about war, there’s often a tightrope to walk—how do you show the brutality and pain of battle without making sweeping moral statements? That’s the dilemma facing Alex Garland, the Oscar-nominated director and screenwriter whose latest film, Warfare, isn’t your typical war movie. Instead of explosions edited for drama and speeches about heroism, Garland pulls viewers into the filth and chaos through the actual recollections of US Navy SEALs deployed to Ramadi, Iraq, in 2006. He doesn’t hand the audience an overt message—he just lets you feel what it’s like when everything goes wrong in combat.
This approach sets Alex Garland apart from most Hollywood filmmakers. In a recent interview with Sky News, he explained that being anti-war doesn’t loop him into the pacifist camp. "I don't think it is possible to make a statement about what war is really like without it being implicitly anti-war," he explained. Still, he was careful to add that doesn’t mean war should never happen. Garland admits there are times when war is, sadly, necessary—an uncomfortable truth he weaves into his movies even as he calls out the horrors wars leave behind.

Inside 'Warfare': Veterans’ Memories and the Messy Realities of Combat
What makes Warfare stand out is its unusual storytelling approach. Everything unfolds through the memories of the veterans who survived that 2006 mission in Iraq. Garland ditched the traditional plot twists and 'inspirational' moments. Instead, he teamed up with co-director Ray Mendoza—a military veteran himself—to capture what Mendoza calls the "unpolished reality" of battle. Their process side-stepped Hollywood polish for a raw, nervy immersion into gunfights, loss, and trauma.
Mendoza, who had previously worked with Garland as an adviser on earlier projects, brings a level of authenticity that most war films miss. He insisted on honoring the chaotic, unscripted feeling that comes with real firefights. The result: audiences are plunged into scenes that might look disjointed and loud—just like actual combat.
This gritty, documentary-like method means Warfare doesn’t tell you what to think. There's no softening, no overlay of patriotic music, and no clear moral or political lesson spelled out at the end. Instead, audiences are left to piece together the meaning themselves. The horrors are plain. The camaraderie is complicated. And—most importantly—war comes across as deeply human and deeply tragic, but also, sometimes, unavoidable.
Garland isn’t shy about connecting his movie to current conflicts like the devastation in Gaza or the invasion of Ukraine. He makes his point simple: a world where people talk instead of fight is obviously better. Yet, some crises push societies to a point where violence erupts anyway. It’s a hard reality, and not one Garland tries to sugarcoat.
Maybe that’s why Warfare feels different: it’s not trying to comfort the audience or tie up history with a bow. It thrashes around in the moral gray area—showing that it’s possible to hate the act of war, even as you see why it sometimes explodes into existence.