Dunkirk (12A)

Four stars

Dir: Christopher Nolan

With: Kenneth Branagh, Mark Rylance, Tom Hardy

Runtime: 106 minutes

THERE is a scene in Christopher Nolan’s magnificent picture in which two young soldiers carrying a stretcher are shouldering their way through a long line of squaddies standing on a pier in Dunkirk. The pair do not know the wounded man; as far as they are concerned, this is a way to jump the queue for evacuation as the Germans close in for the kill.

Suddenly, the pair are halted in their tracks. A bomb has blown a hole in the pier, leaving the only way across a rickety plank. Have a run at it, shouts one of the throng. They do, getting to the other side as wry cheers ring out.

In May 1940, in the aftermath of what had been, in Churchill’s words, a “colossal military disaster”, it was the small victories that mattered. Beating the odds. Telling fate and the enemy to go and take a running jump (or words to that effect). Sheer bloody survival.

Nolan’s picture, make no mistake, has grand, set-piece scenes aimed at making the heart fly and the tears well. Yes, there is Elgar; certainly there are Spitfires; as for Kenneth Branagh looking out to sea with his best In Which We Serve look, count that on the list as well.

These, however, are not what makes Dunkirk so special. Indeed, on the rare occasions when Nolan’s picture falters it is because a scene or a line feels the hand of history pressing a little too heavily on its shoulders. Where the movie is at its most affecting, as in the pier scene, is when it tries to show what Dunkirk was like for the rank and file, and, later, the civilians who risked their lives crewing the “little ships” that headed to France to help. Dunkirk is the story of heroes who never sought to be heroes.

Nolan, on writing and directing duties, divides the story into three strands set on land, sea and air. At Dunkirk is Tommy (Fionn Whitehead), one of more than 400,000 men of various nationalities waiting for evacuation. In the air are pilots Farrier and Collins (Tom Hardy and Scots actor Jack Lowden), while making his way from Dorset in a tiny boat is Mr Dawson (Mark Rylance). This being Nolan, helmer of the time-bending Inception, the stories are spread over different time frames, dovetailing perfectly in a final act that brings the story to an unforgettable close.

For all that cinema is said to be heading for the exit, assailed by television on the one hand and a glut of boredom-inducing sequels on the other, the craft comes into its own with stories like this and directors such as Nolan, who shoots on film rather than digital, with no CGI. There are those who argue it is impossible to tell the difference between film and digital any more. That is not so here. A movie shot in digital can look matt and flat, like an illustration in a book. A picture shot on film is more like a painting: there is depth and detail, light and colours are vivid and true, everything is sharper. You will see the difference immediately.

You will also see plenty of performances to write home about. Branagh and Rylance are reliably terrific. The youngsters, Whitehead especially, make their mark. As for the much publicised presence of Harry Styles, a pop star m’lud, he doesn’t have to worry about a second career. Hardy, made unintelligible by a mask in The Dark Knight Rises, has similar trouble here but comes good in the end. The film’s other star is its soundscape. Hans Zimmer has provided Oscar-winning music for Nolan’s movies for many years and surpasses himself here with a score that swings between heart-pounding and heartbreaking.

Cinema has told the story of Dunkirk before, most obviously in the 1958 film starring John Mills and Richard Attenborough, but Nolan’s picture is in a different league. As a tribute to those who made it home, and those who did not, I doubt it will ever be bettered.