Blitz

A spiritual companion of sorts to Steve McQueen’s massive World War II documentary Occupied City (2023), Blitz continues the filmmaker’s journey through lesser-known stories from the global conflict. Here, he concentrates on a mother and son living in London during the Germans’ eight-month bombing campaign against the city between fall 1940 and spring 1941. George (Elliott Heffernan) lives with his mom Rita (Saoirse Ronan) and grandfather Gerald (Paul Weller), but it’s growing increasingly unsafe for a boy like him to stay there while the Blitz rages on. With his school no longer in session, his father deceased, his mother off at the factory building bombs, and his grandfather getting older, it’s dangerous for George to be stuck at home unsupervised in such a hostile environment. 

The solution? Put all the local children on trains to the countryside, where it’s less likely for Germany to strike. Naturally, George doesn’t take to this idea very well. After lashing out at his mom in the train station, he runs to board the train and refuses to give Rita the proper goodbye she so desperately needs from her only child. His heart was never in this countryside to begin with, but, after dealing with some racist bullies in the passenger car, he makes the impulsive decision to hop off the train and make a run for London. What follows is a War Horse (2011)-esque trek home amidst the perils of war, albeit one far from the front lines of battle. Instead, George is subjected to the harsh realities of race and class relations in 1940s England.

In focusing on George, McQueen implicitly opts to tone down the carnage of the Blitz itself. The fact that George is a child doesn’t automatically imply a child-like approach to such a weighty subject — take Ivan’s Childhood (1962) as an example of a film that effectively portrays the horrors of World War II through young eyes, or Come and See (1985) for that matter. Nevertheless, McQueen chooses to keep George relatively safe from harm for most of the feature’s runtime. Modern audiences have likely never witnessed the infamous bombing campaign from this unique perspective before, and McQueen’s tame interpretation keeps the viewer at a distance — an emotional stunting that prevents one from being fully immersed in the objectively agonizing scenario.

French cinematographer Yorick Le Saux has arguably never worked at a scale this large, having previously shot much smaller works for the likes of Olivier Assayas, Claire Denis, Luca Guadagnino, Jim Jarmusch, and François Ozon. If he felt out of his element, one can hardly tell on-screen: a particularly harrowing opening sequence involving an out-of-control fire hose and, shortly after, a tense scene featuring a mad rush for the nearest Underground station are both quite arresting. The kinetic feel of his camerawork in these early sequences really gets the blood pumping, though the film never quite reaches these thrilling heights again. Later on, Rita is portrayed enjoying a moment of jubilance at famed nightclub Café de Paris. Le Saux’s coverage captures the bittersweet intimacy of the set piece, especially when the mood inevitably makes a sudden — but, historically speaking, expected — turn.

Ronan is predictably great, effortlessly adding another formidable period performance to her résumé. Her role interestingly bucks the trope of the widowed mother, with McQueen opting not to subject her to poor treatment or neglect at the hands of some opportunistic man simply because of her status. Rather, Rita works, provides, socializes, and behaves with real agency (as much as a woman could at such a time, at least). However, it’s Heffernan as George who truly gets the most to work with. Hinging the soul of the film on a child performer is certainly a risk, but it’s one McQueen was smart to take with Heffernan. Despite feeling more than a little heavy-handed by the film’s end, failing to provide an unflinching look at the Blitzkrieg as promised by the title, McQueen’s overly sentimental Blitz still has value as a launching pad for its adolescent star.