Mark Reviews Movies: SEMPER FI

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Review by Mark Dujsik | October 3, 2019

Half-brothers Callahan (Jai Courtney) and Oyster (Nat Wolff) have not had it easy, although they definitely have gotten away with a lot. Semper Fi lets them get away with a lot more, and at no point does the movie stop even to consider if the problem might not be the result of circumstances. There's something amiss with both of these men, but hey, why bother to examine that when there could be a third-act action sequence instead?

Sean Mullin and director Henry Alex Rubin's screenplay sits just on the edge of clear-eyed revelation. It seems poised to both acknowledge and address that Cal, as people call him, and Oyster, as everyone still calls him for no explained reason, have anger issues. They're mad at the world, at their family history, and at each other for assorted reasons.

It is not, obviously, entirely their fault. That's a given. After all, how does one deal with a mother's death as a teenager? From that event, how does Cal face the fear of being exclusively responsible for a younger sibling, while still being an irresponsible teen himself, and how does Oyster suffer an abusive father, while feeling abandoned by the only other family he knows?

The thought that perhaps the filmmakers will confront all of this—and, more importantly, what has resulted for these characters—comes from how gradually this information is divulged. At the start, we just get a pair of hothead brothers, as well as their somewhat juvenile friends, as they go about their lives—working, drinking, play-fighting, actually fighting, looking for women or regretting the one who got away. Cal is a police officer, which just seems like both the most obvious and a terrible job for this kind of guy, who loves to impose his authority on Oyster. Oyster has had some legal problems, which his older brother fixed.

Along with pals Jaeger (Finn Wittrock) and Milk (Beau Knapp), the brothers are in the Marine Corps Reserves. It's 2005, and in addition to their one-weekend-a-month responsibilities to the Corps, there's also a push for some to sign up for a tour in Iraq.

Cal, Oyster, and Jaeger are planning to go overseas, but then, one night at a local bar, Oyster spots a couple of guys who annoy him chatting up a couple of women. He mentions off-hand that he'd like to kill one of them. Then, after the guy's buddy gives him a shove in the bathroom, he does kill that guy—punching him hard enough that his head hits a urinal. Oyster claims—and Cal and his friends believe—that it was self-defense, but despite that, he goes to prison. Besides, the staging of the pivotal scene kind of belies Oyster's insistence of innocence.

The setup for a sympathetic but critical study of these two men continues, as Cal goes to Iraq, kills a man he suspects of wounding Jaeger with an IED (Vitally, he has no evidence of this), and is shipped back home. The brothers' behavior—continuously allowing anger to get the better of their senses and, ultimately, killing someone because of that trait—is worthy of some examination. Based on what the movie seems to make explicit, it shouldn't be comfortable, either.

What, then, can be said of the proceeding developments? Well, for one, it's generic, as Cal decides that he's going help Oyster, who's being abused by the prison guards, get out. Through some contrived bureaucratic nonsense, the legal way goes out the window, and that only leaves a daring, highly illegal act. For another thing, the whole of third act becomes exclusively about the preparation and execution of Cal's plan.

The problem with this—beyond how it comes out of left field—is that it completely lets Cal and Oyster off the hook for their actions. The movie seems to believe, perhaps not in their innocence, but definitely in their lack of responsibility for what has happened. Their pasts ultimately aren't revealed to explain why these two are angry and violent, giving them a reason to evaluate what pain those characteristics have brought to themselves and others. Mullin and Rubin, apparently forgetting what they've showed us, seem more intent on excusing that anger and violence, because the brothers have had a tough life.

This is entirely the wrong move—not only because it abandons whatever character development has occurred in favor of an action climax, but also because, on a broader level, it seems to be diminishing or even justifying the brothers' deeply seated issues. By the end, Semper Fi feels negligent with its characters and with its assessment of them as people.

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