Review: I Declare War
Vigilant soldiers trudge through the forest en route to the enemy base. This war has been brewing for months, and tensions are running high. Loyalties are tested and coups staged as helicopters whiz overhead. A skirmish erupts between rival forces, each side armed with state-of-the-art military technology. A soldier lurches forward and collapses. He begins counting out loud: one steamboat, two steamboat, three steamboat. At ten steamboat, he’s back on his feet, staring down his would-be assassin. The combatants—the generals, soldiers, priests—are all 12 and 13 years old.
I Declare War consists of one game of capture the flag—a contest that directors Jason Lapeyre and Robert Wilson have turned into a matter of life and (pretend) death. Free from adult oversight—there is not a single grown-up in the film—the game is like Lord of the Flies by way of Calvin and Hobbes. An opening cartoon informs us that there are rules in place to maintain order, held together by a sort of collective imagination, the kind that turns a stray tree branch into a bazooka. Kid logic prevails. If you’re pelted by a paint-filled water balloon, you’re out of the war—and everyone will see you at school tomorrow. Ultimately, there proves to be no honor in this contest. Real punches (and rocks) are thrown. By the end, no one is playing fair.
Lapeyre and Wilson take their make-believe seriously, and make the bold decision to represent the kids’ pretend guns as realistic-looking firearms. All games aside, there’s something undeniably jarring about seeing children wield weapons with such casual confidence. We know these aren’t real weapons, and that we’re seeing red paint, not blood. But does it matter?
Lapeyre's script is initially heavy on war movie self-awareness: General “P.K.” (Gage Munroe) rallies his troops with inspirational speeches and looks forward to another viewing of Patton after the battle has ended. When a kid is overly verbose, it’s because they’re emulating what they’ve seen in movies or videogames. But the film deepens when we see how characters are bringing their schoolyard biases and hostilities into their play, and why this game in particular is so important. For P.K.’s rival and former pal Skinner (Michael Friend), victory means upward social mobility, shaking off his reputation as a loser. There's something sincere about his hopeless desperation: his overcompensation only furthers his marginalization. For Skinner, being told that he's “no fun to play with” is as piercing as a crossbow bolt.
The film’s washed-out visuals are appropriate given its hopeless tone. The woods are so sprawling they seem endless under grey skies scarcely pierced by beams of sunlight. Battle scenes are frantic and quickly cut, the camera shaking as a soldier aims down the barrel of his rifle waiting for just the right time to fire off his invisible ammo. Their faces caked with sweat and grime, these kids look like they’ve been through hell.
The cast of child actors give fine performances, particularly Mackenzie Munro as Jess, the only girl on the battlefield. She behaves with a confident and unearned worldliness, already planning her year abroad in Paris. She’s a naïf, but the filmmakers neither celebrate nor mock her. This is a film that understands the impetus to daydream, to immerse oneself in utopian scenarios. It’s always heartbreaking when expectations are shattered, and I Declare War is a film filled with rude awakenings. This coming-of-age story is utterly devoid of nostalgia, with a message far grimmer than its playful premise suggests. P.K., Skinner, and Jess learn that the people you love and trust are capable of profoundly disappointing you. Pessimistic perhaps, but it rings true: it’s something every kid eventually figures out.
