It takes a pretty tactful director to pull of a film about war that intertwines archival war footage with a fictional narrative. Resnais definitely accomplished this with Hiroshima Mon Amor. And usually this type of film concentrates an individual or two, and then expands its interest to the larger realm of the human condition that they are part of.

Overlord’s beginning is a bit clunky. I immediately started to wonder where he was going with all of the footage that he was using, which is amazing stuff really. Then the fictional narrative began to unfold, and I realized that it is through Beddow’s reflections and reactions that we see just how small we are in relation to such an enormously confusing spectacle. Brian Stirner provides an incredible emotional ballast to the film, even though his ambivalent and oftentimes brooding character never seems to reveal too much about himself. Then a rhythm begins to develop, and it proves to be an excellent reminder of how there are times in life where people are powerless to change something, they are merely a part of it, adding an aspect of humanity to an otherwise empty machine.

Oh, and Alcott’s cinematography is stunning as always. I particularly enjoyed the way that the dream sequences were shot.