Fury

There's no distinct line between good and evil, no knights in shining armor, and only a tenuous grasp on what separates right from wrong.

There's no quick cutting, handheld camera designed to disorient. Ayer builds and releases tension the hard way, with careful sequences that efficiently lay out who is doing what to whom.

It all feels horribly hollow and unnecessary.

Sometimes pretentious and sometimes straining a bit too hard for an extra degree of pathos, it's nonetheless an arresting film that's often unsettling and unpredictable.

If you asked him, chances are Ayers would claim that the meat of the film, the last 40 minutes, was "set up" by the methodical pauses preceding it. He'd be wrong, but that's probably what he'd say.