Steve McQueen | 2hr
There are countless ways to die in Blitz-era London, and as nine-year-old George makes his way through train yards, thieves’ dens, and bombed out ruins to find his mother Rita, he tragically bears witness to many of them. The streets where children once played have become battlegrounds, and underground stations are now air raid shelters, prone to devastating flash floods that burst through brick walls like overflowing dams. Leaning on new friends may secure temporary relief from the horror, yet it becomes devastatingly apparent that this volatile, war-ravaged environment does not provide fertile ground for enduring companionship.
Besides, for a biracial child such as George, there is another insidious force to contend with in 1940s London. Prejudice has already torn his family apart once when his father was unjustly arrested by police and deported to Grenada. Now with citizens of all backgrounds being forced to shelter with each other, frictions spark heated confrontations, exposing that same intolerance which they are fighting against ironically ingrained within their own culture. What hope there is for a civilisation under attack both externally and from within seems meagre in Blitz, yet there’s a warmth to Steve McQueen’s visual storytelling which nevertheless keeps nostalgic memories of family alive in its survivors.
That this handsomely staged war drama lacks the formal punch of McQueen’s previous works has more to do with the high bar he has set for himself than any specific failings here. Blitz does not possess the psychological intensity of Shame, the sprawling narrative of Widows, nor the euphoric intimacy of Lover’s Rock, so the tale of one child’s journey home to his mother after being evacuated from London seems a little straightforward in comparison. Nevertheless, the balance he strikes intercutting George’s odyssey with his mother’s lonely heartache anchors Blitz to their precious bond, even when they are at their most emotionally isolated. As this young boy follows the train tracks through England’s countryside with suitcase in hand, McQueen’s parallel editing delicately tethers them together, with Rita’s singing on the radio lyricising the cosy protection such an enduring love provides in difficult times.
“From sea to sea
I wrap myself in warm, sunny you
Fighting the blues
My winter coat is you.”
Pre-war flashbacks tease out nuances of this relationship in piano singalongs and elsewhere bask in the red lighting of a jazz club where Rita and her husband dance, though these are not quite consistent enough to establish a larger family portrait. That Rita plays a relatively passive role in this narrative doesn’t help her character development either, so it is fortunate that Saoirse Ronan’s performance embodies the Cockney fighting spirit with incredible tenderness and ferocity, proving a mastery of accents to rival the likes of Meryl Streep and Cate Blanchett. While George traverses dangerous urban landscapes in Blitz, she offers a reassuring emotional foundation, becoming the endpoint to the most treacherous journey he will ever make.
McQueen is sure to land us right alongside him during each ordeal as well, vividly recreating scenes of wartime London with immense attention to detail. Tracking shots navigate restless crowds crammed into claustrophobic shelters, and later immerse us in a jazz club where life thrives in stubborn defiance of the terror unfolding outside. The blocking here is seamlessly coordinated as we descend from the ceiling to the dance floor, follow a waiter into the kitchen, and fluidly latch onto new characters in long takes, soaking up the vibrant nightlife before sirens bring the festivities to a chilling standstill. McQueen’s hard transition into the blackened ruins of this same club a mere few hours later is jarring – though the camera still floats, its panning through the dusty wreckage is deeply sombre, taking in the sight of pale corpses, a splintered piano, and gangs shamefully looting whatever valuables they can find.
Later when George himself is the one running through streets of burning buildings and emergency workers, Blitz’s blend of elegant camerawork and desolate mise-en-scène evokes similar scenery in the Soviet war drama The Cranes are Flying, drawing parallels between the uprooted, disorientated protagonists of both stories. Where Mikhail Kalatozov’s film threw a lifeline to Veronika in the form of a child though, George finds fleeting companions in the Black people scattered around London, with Nigerian air raid warden Ife and lowly thief Jess becoming a surrogate father and sister. Through them, he is taught crucial life lessons that he was denied the moment his only Black parent was cruelly taken away, enabling him to grasp the nuances of a hegemonic culture that savagely targets outsiders.
From the perspective of this nine-year-old boy, what initially appears to be a survival drama gradually proves to be a coming-of-age tale in disguise, exposing him to life’s harshest realities on a historic scale. Like Odysseus returning to Ithaca or Dorothy realising there’s no place like home, George’s attempts to find his mother forge wisdom, compassion, and courage in the fires of war, eventually empowering him to undertake a heroic, character-defining rescue which in turn points him towards salvation. It is our bonds which keep us relentlessly persevering through harrowing times after all, and as Blitz draws together these broken family threads, McQueen tenderly illuminates humanity’s darkest hour with a loving, maternal radiance.
Blitz is currently streaming on Apple TV+.