Denis Villeneuve’s Sicario is an unruly combination of violence, drugs, the ever present cinematic tendency towards the depiction of FBI-criminal relations, and, surprisingly, cemented with an under-rooted feminist theme declaring the strength of women, not only in film, but in any male dominated arena or specialty. In this case, Emily Blunt’s Kate Mercer is the one chosen to portray this male-female dilemma as the only woman on her FBI team, and does so with the utmost intelligence, rhythmic action, and dramatic creativity.
Granted, her character *surprise* is not given much to work with, but Blunt provides such a finesse to Mercer that her actions truly do speak louder than words - and the fractional material is taken in stride allowing Blunt’s Mercer an accessibility that may not have been present in lesser hands, especially with such a grandiose, overlong, intricate plot.
The film begins in a whirlwind of dust, corpses, innocent Arizonian onlookers, and Kate's FBI crew who discovers these dead bodies in a regular, Arizonian suburban home courtesy of one of the most powerful Mexican drug gangs in history. And the discovery and re-discovery of dead bodies and the experiential manifestations of unexpected explosions do not stop there. When the FBI crew realizes the importance of going across the border (the first time) to find this gang and its leader to stop future... occurrences ... we come across even more gratuitous and unnecessary flashes of shootings, bombings, and the killing of innocent people. But it becomes easier to watch with the added talents of agents Matt Graver (Josh Brolin) and Alejandro (Benicio del Toro), and let me warn you, there is lots and lots of blood.
At least the cinematography of Roger Deakins is gorgeous and the landscape of Mexico is brought to life through his beautiful shots and clear technical acumen. The masterful score is equally as mesmerizing and Jóhann Jóhannsson's knocked it out of the park with his choices of instrumentation and consistent awareness of the character and cinematic beats - no note seems out of place.
Benicio del Toro provides such an edge to the film’s entirety, that any woman cannot help but drool at his on-screen presence. He nails every scene he’s in and his quiet charisma is definitely a force to be reckoned with, complementing the equal, intellectual energy Blunt brings to the table. Brolin’s intensity is additionally intriguing, and his performance evokes a level of watchability to the gory, un-watchability of the several violent scenes. And that takes some serious talent.
The feminist undertones are not solely present to generate a sense of female empowerment, but a greater thematic purpose of male-female equality. Yes, Emily Blunt’s role is incredibly feminist, but when balanced against Del Toro and Brolin, one comprehends that they are all equals to a whole - the sum of which could not work without the other. It is not just Blunt that is the knock out here, but her role’s ability to provide a humane fairness when playing against her male counterparts. There is humanity to it.
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