The bittersweet nature of “The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial” is in front of the camera, too, with the casting of the great Lance Reddick as Captain Luther Blakley, the head of a proceeding regarding the charge of mutiny against one Lieutenant Stephen Maryk (Jake Lacy). Reddick plays Blakley with such authority that it really grounds the whole affair, reminding one how much his gravity could impact a production. It’s almost like this is being heard by God.
The hearing of Lieutenant Maryk is a court-martial for mutiny aboard the Caine, a ship that was caught in a cyclone in the Strait of Hormuz. During a conflict over how to get the ship and its crew safely through this natural disaster, Maryk and a group of allies basically relieved Captain Phillip Queeg (Kiefer Sutherland) of his command. Now, Maryk may be the one on trial, but Defense Attorney Lieutenant Barney Greenwald (Jason Clarke) understands that Queeg will have to be the main defendant. If they can prove that Queeg wasn’t sane enough to captain the ship, Maryk will go free. Monica Raymund plays the lead prosecutor, Lewis Pullman plays Thomas Keefer (an ally of Maryk’s on that fateful day), and Tom Riley and Jay Duplass play further witnesses to Queeg and Maryk’s state of mind.
“The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial” doesn’t leave the hearing for most of its action. There are no flashbacks aboard the Caine, leaving viewers to form their own opinions via the testimony of the major players. From the beginning, Friedkin, cinematographer Michael Grady, and editor Darrin Navarro play subtle games with how this story is told. Take the first three testimonies. Queeg is framed mostly alone with few cuts and relatively close, giving him a majority of the frame in a manner that befits his captain role and the potential that he abused his power. The second witness, Keefer, is framed a little further back, allowing Raymund’s Commander Challee to share the frame and cut in a way that reflects his lower status from Queeg. Finally, an underling named Urban (Gabe Kessler) is shot from a distance so all the people in the room can be seen, making the witness small in the frame. These subtle choices impact what we think of these characters—Friedkin always made choices even when he wasn’t underlining and highlighting them in ways that lesser directors do.
And while he doesn’t lean into the readings of a film about a man inherently incapable of leading in a time of unexpected crisis, given the recent leadership failures around the world, it doesn’t seem coincidental that Friedkin is making this movie now. There’s a lesser version of this that makes its politics more obvious, although I would argue Friedkin doesn’t avoid that reading at all, especially in the final scenes that suggest leadership has partly collapsed because of the caliber of the men being led.
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