It has been said that subtlety is the art of saying what you think and getting out of the way before it is understood. John Cusack and his screenwriting partners on the modern war fable War, Inc. must not be familiar with this idea - or they are REALLY fast at getting out of the way.
The idea must have been to make a film that would teasingly touch on uncomfortable current issues – Americanization of foreign countries, commercialism, and (of course) unjust, corporately-fueled war. But the product isn’t sharp or even very effective. Instead, War Inc. becomes a predictable, over-the-top parable that ends up feeling like a slap-in-the-face instead of a gentle-nudge.
Cusack plays Brand Hauser, a government-employed assassin with a tragic past sent to assassinate a Middle-Eastern leader who is becoming an annoyance to US Government. (See where this is going?) Cusack is given cover as a trade show producer who has to help in pulling off the marriage of a pop-star with an arrogant diplomat’s son. Along the way, Hauser meets a stubborn leftist journalist who questions his intentions but can’t help making out with him.
As if the set-up isn’t tired enough, Cusack and the other two screenwriters (both with limited resume – one mostly familiar with late-night sketch comedy) fill the story with overt references to current politics. The American vice president (played briefly by Dan Akroyd) is the former head of a large corporation (They stop short of calling it Haliburton); The pop star (a creepy/sleazy performance from Hilary Duff) is acutely aware of being a whore and resigns herself to marrying a hip-hop obsessed idiot (Britney and Kevin, anyone?); And the catalyst/mastermind of the whole evil plot is revealed as a southern-accent wielding idealist who is allowed too much power…
War, Inc. has its moments. Sometimes the comedic wit and intention shine through. Montel Williams helps in voicing an “On Star”-like operator who serves as Hauser’s unofficial psychiatrist. The diplomat’s loser son who is about to marry the pop star is given a name that closely resembles a lewd phrase in Pig-Latin. But most of the jokes are so obvious it ends up feeling like there is an insecure teenager leaning over your shoulder asking “Do you get it? Huh? Get it?” And by the end of the film, one half-expects there to be an altar call for repentant former patriots.
Satire should be served in smaller doses by humbler men.
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