What it lacks in heart, it makes up for in fist-gnawing tension.

Without wanting to sound dramatic, there are few directors like Christopher Nolan…and even fewer still that could get Dunkirk done. Despite its location and far-reaching consequences, the ‘Miracle of Dunkirk’ is an overtly British piece of history; an event often held up as a prime example of the backs-against-the-wall, ‘British Spirit’ heroism that seems tailormade for the movies. The big problem? Few beyond these shores know about it. While a crucial and pivotal moment of World War II, one that spawned Churchill’s famous “we shall fight on the beaches” speech; the evacuation of Dunkirk is an overtly British story that needs a Hollywood budget to be told.

Christopher Nolan’s style, methods, and recurrent themes have led him to the upper echelons of the Hollywood food chain and into that exclusive directors’ club, whose name-brand alone gets films greenlit and bums on seats to watch them. As one of the few event filmmakers left in the game, Nolan is an utterly unique figure in the Hollywood system; standing alone as an auteur able to operate with even the biggest blockbusters to offer the high concept spectacle without sacrificing intelligence. By delivering the box office dollars that studios crave, while simultaneously taking care of his audience; Nolan has garnered more sway within the industry than anyone whose surname isn’t Scorsese, Tarantino, or Spielberg.

Until this point however, every one of Christopher Nolan’s films have been stories of his own making (or…you know…Batman), unrestricted by anything but his imagination. Dunkirk sees Nolan tackle a true-life event for the first time and, in doing so, has returned the director to the more intimate surroundings of early work like Memento and Insomnia, while retaining the expansive scope of his later years. Retelling the story of Dunkirk is obviously a deeply personal mission for Nolan and, while taking on such a quintessentially British moment in history - and one of the biggest military disasters of WWII to boot - is a risky venture, the director pulls it off the only way he knows how.

Following a disastrous military campaign and with German forces closing in, 400,000 British and Allied soldiers are left stranded in the French port town of Dunkirk with no support and little hope. As the dire situation begins to spiral out of control, hundreds of civilian boats cross the Channel from England in a desperate attempt to evacuate the beleaguered forces. Told from three unique, non-linear perspectives; Dunkirk is the story of heroism against the odds and a tribute to human survival in the face of the seemingly impossible.

Dunkirk is a film of contrasts and, with any film of this scale, these kinds of schisms are hard to miss. Filmed in glorious 70mm, Dunkirk is visually huge and the kind of immersive experience that demands to be seen on the biggest screen you can get your eyeballs to but, while it’s among the grandest titles in Nolan’s filmography, it’s also his most intimate.

While the IMAX-sized scope will undoubtedly be the film’s big draw, what makes Dunkirk such an affecting and devastating film is its insistence on sweating the small stuff. Each of its three unique perspectives dig deep to offer small-scale acts of heroism and survival that belie the enormity of the burgeoning conflict around them. In dispensing with his trademark extravagance, Nolan strips everything down to the bare bones, while working hard to keep the scale of the conflict intact; resulting in a film of overwhelming intimacy.

By his dispensing of the politics surrounding the event, the director allows Dunkirk’s immediate situation to take centre stage and, with a decidedly lean narrative, there’s little distraction to pull you away from the job at hand. With scant warning or exposition, Nolan hurls us head-first into the dire situation to dodge bullets and bombs in a visceral first-person perspective. Reminiscent of Saving Private Ryan’s opening moments, this is immersive cinema at its finest and the kind of all-encompassing and intimate experience that’s both thrilling and nerve-shredding.

In typical Nolan style, the editing twists and turns between characters and timelines with abandon but, while this keeps the pace tight and the action engaging, it allows no time for audience-character relationships to build. War is messy and, while Dunkirk does a near-perfect job of replicating the chaos of conflict, it’s an incredibly disorientating and oddly detached experience for the viewer. Those approaching Dunkirk for a rousing wartime character study will likely leave disappointed and this lack of warmth ultimately holds the film back from the greatness it so nearly attains.

As is par for the course, Nolan’s technical brilliance is unparalleled but, rather disappointingly, character development is left wanting. The film achieves its aim of pulling you into the heart of a desperate conflict but intentionally holds you at arm’s length throughout, leaving it all feeling a little cold. Although this is clearly Nolan’s intention, it’s a particularly divergent viewing experience; one that appears intimate by design, yet narratively depersonalising.

From Kenneth Branagh to Tom Hardy, Dunkirk isn’t short of star power, yet their personalities are always kept on the backburner, as Nolan refuses to allow them to cast their shadow over the film. Like the evacuation itself, Dunkirk is an all-hands-to-the-pump ensemble effort, with little room for rank or ego, that sees its biggest names go about their jobs with a quiet unobtrusiveness that belies their status.

While the familiar faces melt into the ensemble, it’s left to the imperious figure of Mark Rylance to inject some much-needed personality into Dunkirk. In typically understated fashion, Rylance’s Mr Dawson is an unassuming and straight-talking character but, behind the self-effacing exterior, the character operates as the heart, brains, and soul of the film. Providing Dunkirk’s deepest characterisation, Mr Dawson drip feeds the audience pieces of his past, his connection to the war, and his tragic motivations in assisting the Dunkirk effort; all while playing a massive part in driving the narrative forward. It’s a subdued performance but an immensely powerful one that lends the film some welcome warmth amidst the cold.

As an intriguing contrast, the film’s most inconspicuous faces provide the film’s dramatic backbone; with relative unknowns, and an unrecognisable Harry Styles, thrust into the sharp end of the action, as they perform much of the film’s literal and metaphorical legwork in the process. Staring down the barrel of the war, these young soldiers are our shell-shocked avatars on the front line and, while we never truly learn their names, it’s through their terrified eyes that we see events unfold.

Oddly, of all the star names on display, the film’s biggest character by far is Dunkirk itself and the personality injected into a geographical location is remarkable. Whether land, sea, or air; Nolan’s myopic lens plunges you directly into the very heart of the action and doesn’t budge for the duration, creating a living, breathing entity from this relatively short stretch of French coast.

This is a film about those at the evacuation’s epicentre; about the soldiers hopelessly stranded and the citizens risking everything to rescue them – nothing more, nothing less. There are no expository scenes with Churchill or tactical discussions with high-ranking officers back home, nor any attempt to give a face to the enemy; yet their absence is never felt. This is about Dunkirk and Dunkirk only and, while escaping its shores is the express desire for all involved, the unrelenting rage and beguiling solemnity of the beach just won’t let go.

Dunkirk takes you as close to the frontline as you’re ever likely to get in the comfort of a cinema seat and the resultant whirlwind is a bewildering assault on the senses. Consequently, this relentless sensory bombardment makes it hard to find a firm grip on the film at first but, once a you find it, Dunkirk doesn’t let go. Like an ever-tightening stranglehold, Nolan expertly and incrementally increases the film’s taut, claustrophobic tension to produce a movie-going experience that’s both blisteringly disconcerting and oddly awe-inspiring.

As the drive to Dunkirk’s unrelenting anxiety, Hans Zimmer’s score not only informs the narrative, but physically propels it. With its recurrent ticking motif and persistently ominous droning, the score is a masterpiece of simmering intensity that overwhelms with an unrelenting sonic bombardment. As Zimmer’s score ebbs and flows with the pulsating action, the gnawing tension is only occasionally punctured with more ethereal, orchestral moments that, while brief, add an incredibly cathartic contrast to the impending doom. Although you’d expect nothing less, Zimmer puts in an absolute masterclass of tone dictation and, quite rightly, Dunkirk will be remembered as much for the score than the action.

Dunkirk is a war film like no other. There are no grand gestures, no heroes, no villains; just ordinary people doing what they need to do to save themselves and those around them. For better or worse, Nolan builds a strikingly evocative and entirely faithful portrait of the Dunkirk evacuation; demonstrating the inherent bravery of the soldiers and citizens involved, while pulling no punches in depicting the unmitigated disaster and the tragic loss of life that unfolded. While it was a dark moment in a war that had only just begun, the bravery and humanity brought forth by Dunkirk provided a chink of light through the despair and it’s a balance tone that Christopher Nolan absolutely nails.

While it takes time for Dunkirk to find its grip, once it does so, it flat-out refuses to let go. Driven by some terrifyingly tangible action and Hans Zimmer’s unrelenting score, Christopher Nolan constructs a film whose mark will linger long after the credits roll. By dampening the film’s star power and utilising a largely unknown cast, Nolan’s minimal characterisation is equal parts authentic and frustratingly taciturn, but its impact is hard to deny. Dunkirk is a film of immense contrasts; delivering grand, IMAX-worthy scale while scaling back on running time and story to create one of the most authentic war re-enactments in cinema history. This is war stripped down to the bone and at its most impersonal but, while Dunkirk’s faces are unlikely to leave a lasting impression, their quiet heroism certainly will.