Unwavering determination at the core of Pressure
It’s hard to grasp the scope and planning that went into the D-Day invasion that occurred on June 6, 1944. Preparations began in mid-1943 that would result in the deployment of over 156,000 Allied Forces soldiers over a 50-mile stretch of beach across two time zones. Seven million tons of supplies were utilized including 450,000 tons of ammunition. Seventeen million maps were produced. A variety of nearly 7,000 sea vessels were used, in addition to 2,395 aircraft and 867 gliders, with more than 3,200 tons of bombs dropped further inland. At the end of five days, 326,547 Allied troops had landed along with 54,186 vehicles and 104,428 tons of supplies.
And all of this hinged on the accuracy of a weather report.
Anthony Maras’ Pressure takes a deep dive into this oft-overlooked aspect of this historic event. Unexpectedly fascinating, this examination of the behind-the-scenes drama that went into making a prediction upon which thousands of lives depended, is gripping from start to finish. Clocking in at 100 minutes, this is a refreshingly brisk exercise that gives an overlooked hero the credit he’s been long denied, a man who withstood a barrage of resistance and pressure no one should have to endure.
Britain’s leading meteorologist James Stagg’s (Andrew Scott) new assignment comes at the worst possible time. What with his wife, Liz (Tamsin Topolski) about to give birth, the last thing he wants is to leave home. Yet, duty calls. Acting on a recommendation from Winston Churchill himself, Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower (Brendan Fraser) has requested he help his own team of weather experts come up with an accurate forecast for the upcoming D-Day Invasion on June 5.
Preoccupied with his life and sporting a fastidious, unbending demeanor, he meets resistance from the start. The American weathermen, led by Irving Krick (Chris Messina), and their lack of decorum rankles him, while their reliance on making predictions based on past patterns strikes him as lazy and unreliable. His insistence that he knows the weather of his homeland better than they falls on deaf ears as does his warning that it is also highly unpredictable. The conflicting reports and contentiousness between Stagg and his own staff do not sit well with Eisenhower, who’s depending on a consensus among them where their predictions are concerned.
Maras and his co-writer, David Haig, whose play the film is based on, manage to make conversations about jet streams and high-pressure systems not only seem vital but fascinating. Without dumbing things down for the viewer, scenes focused on these subjects combine dialogue with images of rapidly forming or dissipating storms, all of which heightens the tension. Intercutting images of rows of dead, bloodied Allied troops washed up on the beach after a practice exercise does so as well.
The work of the fine cast compliments their efforts beautifully. Fraser is convincingly gruff as Eisenhower, yet he’s also able to convey the general’s inner conflict and doubts. These quieter moments are where the Oscar winner shines, as he brings a vulnerability to the man that proves poignant. The always reliable Kerry Condon is also on board as Eisenhower’s assistant Kay Summersby, and the actress’ combination of flinty directness and quiet compassion are a perfect fit for the character. During their moments together, these screen veterans convey as much when they are silent as when speaking.
Of course, the success of the entire film depends on Scott and he’s more than up to the task. The actor brings a coiled demeanor to the character that becomes harder and harder to maintain as the clock ticks. As his face gradually tightens, his attire becomes unkempt and his voice becomes a rattling rasp, the actor creates a portrait of frayed grace under pressure, a man determined to face resistance at every turn for what he knows is right. Scott puts himself through the wringer and we can’t help but rejoice with Stagg once his inner storms pass because of it.
In the end, “Pressure” serves as tribute to the men and women who stood strong in the face of the greatest threat to democracy the world has ever faced. The film’s power comes from not portraying them as simply steely, determined individuals who put on a brave face but rather as people wracked with doubt and fear. In overcoming these thoughts and emotions, they serve as stirring examples of selfless, unwavering determination, men and women with a degree of character that’s become too rare. Pressure’s greatest gift is providing their stories so we may look to them once more for inspiration in combating current threats. In Theaters.
Loud Miss too calculated
There sure is a lotta speechifying in Jim Rash’s Miss You, Love You. Far too often, its angry, forlorn characters set their feet and rattle off a litany of complaints and hurt that sounds as if it been rehearsed numerous times internally before spewing forth. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with a showstopping moment here or there, but it gets to the point here that as soon as I saw two characters standing opposite one another and a close-up of one occurred, I knew a diatribe was in the offing.
This certainly isn’t the only thing wrong with this well-intentioned film, but it’s the most glaring. Essentially a two-hander, the movie’s premise is solid enough, yet its theatrical nature, both in its staging and execution, makes it come off as more of an exercise than an intimate portrait of two souls in pain, each grappling for understanding and relief.
Embracing her anger rather than letting it consume her, Diane (Allison Janney) is a force to be reckoned with. Preparing for her second husband’s funeral, she’s beside herself when her son informs her that because of work commitments he will not be able to come help her through this difficult time. Instead, he sends his assistant, Jamie (Andrew Rannells). Pity this poor guy as he has no idea what he’s walking into. Diane is a buzzsaw of fury, laying into him repeatedly, verbally flaying him again and again in the place of her absent son.
Over the course of a week, confessions are made, lies are told, drama ensues and a degree of respect is built between the two. In processing her grief, Diane tells of her resentment over relocating from New York City to New Mexico for her husband’s sake, the pain of her witnessing his slow decline due to Parkinson’s and the reason for her son’s estrangement. In turn, Jamie shares his own regrets regarding his absent parents, his career choices and his own dealings with Diane’s son, revealing a common thread that brings these two together.
Were it not for the work of the two leads, the film would have been insufferable. Janney’s performance is one comprising of variations on a single note but in her defense, Rash’s script has Dianne do nothing but rage and rage some more. Rannells is allowed a far greater variety of emotions to tap into, Jamie required to be polite, flummoxed, defensive and finally, vulnerable in varying degrees throughout. The actor steals one scene after another, knowing to step back as his co-star rends the scenery, his calm demeanor drawing us in like a port in a storm.
Still, despite the fine work from these two, there’s just something a bit too calculated in Rash’s construction. The repeated, loud airing of grievances or extraction of confessions become predictable and tedious, while attempts at humor, provided by an underused Bonnie Hunt as Diane’s clueless neighbor fall flat. Though the film runs only 97 minutes, it feels much longer.
To be sure, the relationship dynamics Rash brings to the table are timely and worthy of further discussion. The distance that exists between Diane and her son, exacerbated by his hollow texts to her that always end with Miss You, Love You, is not unique in both physical and emotional terms. Bridging these gaps requires a degree of sincerity that can overcome the difficulties that exist between loved ones. Had Miss employed a few more quiet, genuine moments than repeated histrionics, it may have fostered the sort of emotional honesty its director was striving for. Streaming on HBO MAX.
