Devotion (2022)
Currently for rent or sale on Amazon Prime Video
(L.-R.) Jesse Brown, Tom Hudner and Navy Fighter Squadron VF-32 in Devotion
Can there be such a thing as a gentle war story? Or one that at least lands softly, filled with daring and even heroism, but centered on what combat reveals about the insides of men, more than on the courage they summon in the heat of battle?
Devotion makes an inspiring case for the quietly heroic military tale. Of course, it has stirring shots of men flying into harm’s way. And shows battlefield standoffs fought in bitterly cold weather over disputed territory.
Most of it happens in the “forgotten war” that began on land and in the waters surrounding North Korea in 1950.
But this recounting tactfully, almost one has to say tenderly, pulls loose a slender thread from that conflict. It’s the true story of Ensign Jesse Brown (Jonathan Majors), a Black aviator in an era when precious few men of color piloted military aircraft.
WWII is over, the Cold War is taking hold, and full-blown combat seems a little distant. It’s rigorously prepared for but still remains hard to envision.
That’s true for Lieutenant Tom Hudner (Glen Powell), who graduated from the Naval Academy the week WWII ended, and ever since has been wondering when he’ll get his chance to fly into battle.
Joining Navy Fighter Squadron VF-32 in Korean waters is a welcome challenge for him. The unit is assigned to the USS Leyte, an aircraft carrier supplying air support to U.S. Marines on shore.
Warfare presents a slightly different test for Jesse. His wife Daisy (Christina Jackson) understands the danger Jesse could face in Korea, and only wants him to return safely to her and their young daughter.
Jonathan Majors brings ace pilot Jesse Brown to stirring, troubled life in Devotion
But Jesse still sees most situations, especially in a hugely white-dominated military (desegregated only since 1948), as him against White Authority.
He has an unusual way of girding himself against it. He can sometimes be heard hurling racist epithets at himself, denigrating himself, before a mirror.
Hudner overhears this cruel barrage – You have no more right than a monkey to be flying planes! – and doesn’t know what to make of this bizarre self-flagellating.
Jesse explains that he’s written down in a little book “every hateful word anyone’s ever said to me,” which he reads aloud to himself to remember what he’s overcome. “Been doing it since I was a boy. It helps.”
That stony personal ritual has toughened him for his aviator training.
He remembers the swim test he took in flight school, when white fellow trainees held him under water, put ice in the water, put weights in his flight suit. “They didn't believe a nigger could swim. They made me do it 10 times.”
He wisely concluded that, “They wouldn’t have cared if I’d died in that pool, but every time I made it out.”
As Hudner listens and tries to comprehend, it’s important for us to understand, and to respect, that this is no “white savior” movie.
It’s a Black fortitude movie. (More, please!)
This is the exacting work of the same visual effects team that made Top Gun: Maverick soar.
Deploying authentic representations of vintage aircraft, the aerial photography delivers a crisp diorama of combat planes climbing and diving like hawks at sea.
Jesse’s self-control, trying to allay his self-doubt, is how he quiets his own demons, and it’s what steers this movie. Says Hudner, with a mixture of mystification and tribute: “Jesse Brown. Squadron of one.”
That’s an unusual angle for what might be seen as a “protest” movie. Because, while the movie unflinchingly documents unfairness – we see Jesse physically confront white bigots – it respectfully declines to dwell on it.
Hudner, and all the whites in the story, are witnesses to one Black man’s struggle to summon the personal strength he needs. They literally can’t ease his pain. They have to find a way to honor it. And most of the time, leave it alone.
On a mission Jesse, disobeying an order, peels off his plane from the group to single handedly bomb a bridge. It’s a good hit, but it gets the word “subordination” entered into his record.
Trying to undo that harm, Tom collects written testimony of support from the squad. But Jesse’s misstep will damage his chances at advancement.
“A slap on the wrist for you isn’t the same as a slap on the wrist for me,” Jesse explains.
“What do you want me to do?” Tom asks.
“Just be my wingman, pal. Forget the life saver and get in the damn water!”
On shore leave in Cannes, Jesse (Jonathan Majors) and Tom (Glen Powell) can be at ease
That’s this movie’s most telling piece of advice, not unlike the hard-won wisdom shown in 2022’s The Inspection (also about a Black man seeking dignity in the military; my review is here).
Since these are naval pilots, aerial shots of planes swooping over vast stretches of ocean make for a thrilling spectacle, the exacting work of the same visual effects team that made Top Gun: Maverick soar.
Deploying authentic representations of vintage aircraft, the aerial photography delivers a crisp diorama of combat planes climbing and diving like hawks at sea.
Jake Crane and Jonathan Stewart’s script builds slowly (they even work in a true-life lark in Cannes hosted by the actual Elizabeth Taylor, played by Serinda Swan).
Their unhurried writing pays off. Personal anguish and military duty certainly can clash, but these scripters blend them to bring the story in for a soft, inspiring landing.
Erik Messerschmidt (Mank) keeps his silken, gliding cinematography restrained. It glistens on land and sea without overwhelming a straightforward tale.
The hot war action turns on rapid fire aerial combat, but Messerschmidt nicely intuits that visually it has to hinge on the sight of men flying in unison, that is, flight as comradeship, which is dangerous but, crucially, not undertaken alone.
The entire caring yet gung-ho vision is overseen by J.D. Dillard, a Black director who, in only his third feature, shows both a keen eye and a resourcefulness with actors that in the future could place him among major directors.
He gives action sequences a whizzing tension, but he’s careful not to overstress the story’s dramatic turns, relying on an unflashy script, an able cast and two perceptive lead actors to draw us in.
Majors makes Jesse resolute in facing and overcoming his past, but painfully aware that there’s very little beyond his own instincts that he can control, and in flight even those can sometimes betray him.
The actor feels entrenched, fully invested, in Jesse’s struggle for recognition. Yet he doesn’t shrink from showing us the Jesse who calls on courage he’s not always sure is there. We aren’t spared the sight of Jesse fearing that he may not have the right stuff.
Powell subtly keeps Hudner a relatable, regular guy, as well as someone secure enough to befriend a fierce Black comrade he admits he won’t ever quite understand.
There are types of devotion in this movie, each given its due. Jesse’s to his wife and daughter, Hudner’s to a newfound friend he wants to help succeed, and Jesse’s to flight itself, which can lift him above his doubts and old sorrows.
Nevertheless, peril comes Jesse’s way. But dedication transcends defeat for the warrior who’s just trying to make it home.
He wins even when he may seem to lose. Devotion sticks that landing.