“In the end, they would hose out the blood, slap on some paint, and grab some cooks and clerks to crew up the vehicle again,” David Ayer tells Michael Cieply at the New York Times, referring to his new film Fury, which several Oscar pundits were much higher on than I was initially, but this new editorial has me singing a different tune.
As much as I loved Ayer’s End of Watch (it made my top ten in 2012), his films have never been Oscar fodder. Even Training Day, which AYer wrote and Antoine Fuqua directed, saw Denzel Washington win an Oscar and Ethan Hawke also nominated. It didn’t, however, earn a Best Picture or screenplay nomination. Add to that the dismal reaction to Ayer’s Sabotage earlier this year from critics and audiences alike (I’ve still yet to see it) and it just appears he’s a filmmaker with a touch outside the Oscar realm.
Enter Fury, starring Brad Pitt, Shia LaBeouf, Logan Lerman, Michael Peña, Jon Bernthal and Jason Isaacs, a World War II film centered a battle-hardened army sergeant named Wardaddy (Pitt) as he commands a Sherman tank and her five-man crew on a deadly mission behind enemy lines and it sounds every bit as nasty as you’d expect.
“Piercing his brainpan with a CRACK,” is how Mr. Ayer’s screenplay describes the move. (In Dolby Digital sound, it will be a very loud crack.) Mr. Pitt, our hero, then calmly wipes his blade clean on the German’s uniform […]
As the movie opens, they are preparing to scrape the remains of a headless buddy from the bow gunner’s seat. “I sure didn’t keep him alive,” Mr. Pitt mutters.
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