Movie Review: Warfare (2025)

Written and Directed by Ray Mendoza and Alex Garland

There’s a certain kind of war movie that clings to you, not for its explosions or its technical wizardry, but for the way it forces you to sit with the unvarnished truth of human destruction. Warfare, the latest from Alex Garland (28 Days Later, Annihilation, and Sunshine) and Iraq War veteran Ray Mendoza, is one of those films. It’s not an easy watch, nor does it want to be. Instead, this film locks you into the boots of American Navy SEALs during a surveillance mission in 2006 Ramadi, Iraq, and doesn’t let you leave, even when you want to.

As someone who’s never been in combat but has spent a lifetime surrounded by its echoes—through friends, partners, and stories I’ll never stop hearing—movies like Warfare strike a particular chord. I feel a natural pull toward these films, likely because my life was altered by combat, even if it wasn’t me who was fighting it. Even if I want to, I can’t forget the 3 a.m. calls from my former partner, an infantry soldier deployed to the UN peacekeeping mission in Bosnia-Herzegovina in ’98-’99. He’d call after his unit returned from patrol, desperate to hear a voice of reason, safety, and sanity after witnessing the soul-destroying human suffering that war breeds: black-market body part chop shops filled with dead people; children playing with grenades as toys, blown to bits; fellow American servicemembers who’d abducted a 12-year-old girl, raped and killed her, then buried her body in a ditch. I listened to these stories, and I went cold, numb, a feeling that still lingers and one that has no cure. And my partner’s voice, raw with pain and even lunacy, was a sound I’ll never stop hearing. And later, when he came home, PTSD took hold of him, a new kind of battle he wasn’t prepared for. That’s another story, but it’s why movies like Warfare strike such a deep chord in me. They’re not just movies—they’re echoes of the people I’ve known, the horrors I’ve listened to, and the scars that never fade.

These types of films dredge up something primal, something complicated. Maybe it’s a need to bear witness, to remember how truly fucking horrific war is and hope that others understand it too, and reckon with this truth before promoting it. Or perhaps it’s a trauma bond of sorts, a way to stay connected to the people I’ve known who did live it. Whatever the reason, Warfare feels like a film that doesn’t just depict war—it forces you to sit with its ugliness, its monotony, and the flashes of humanity, however changed, that somehow survive in its midst.

Garland and Mendoza’s film is part of a larger evolution in war storytelling. Where earlier films—like those depicting World War II—often centered heroism and glory, modern war movies have taken a much darker, more introspective turn. Titles like Apocalypse Now, The Hurt Locker, Jarhead, and Black Hawk Down have traded sweeping narratives of good versus evil for morally gray explorations of survival, futility, and the psychological toll of combat. Warfare fits squarely into this camp, and is all the better for it. I’ve seen them all, and I flinch and squirm and ask myself why I’m watching them, but I can’t seem to look away. The more realistic, and the more morally gray, the more I’m riveted. But the older I’ve become, the more I’ve come to see the humanity in soldiers, the dignity of entrusting your life to your battle buddies and being willing to promise them you’ll protect theirs.

Maybe that’s what draws me to war movies, the fact that soldiers are some of the few people in the world who are capable of putting aside their minor differences when it really matters and standing up for each other. That’s a trust and a bond that I highly doubt can ever be attained in a corporate milieu. And maybe that’s why, in our modern era, most wars seem to be birthed in corporate boardrooms because some country’s economy, or its oligarchs bank accounts, needs a boost, always at the expense of the people who will never step foot in a boardroom.

Warfare isn’t a story of valor or triumph. There’s no soaring score to remind you of the righteousness of the mission, no neatly tied resolution to justify the cost. Instead, Warfare operates in real time, immersing viewers in the mundane drudgery of waiting for something to happen, only to shatter that stillness with moments of pure chaos. It’s a film that captures the full spectrum of war: the boredom, the fear, the camaraderie, and the senselessness of it all.

One of its greatest strengths is its commitment to authenticity. Mendoza, drawing on his own experiences as a veteran, ensures that every detail feels grounded in reality. The military jargon, the tactical movements, the sheer mind-numbing monotony of “hurry up and wait” are all here. For those who’ve served, these moments will feel painfully real.

But it’s not just the logistics that hit home; it’s the emotional truth. The film captures the almost surreal duality of war: the a soldier’s life flips completely from sharing jokes one moment to fighting for their lives the next. And most importantly, it doesn’t shy away from the aftermath. The final moments of Warfare don’t offer closure or catharsis. Instead, they leave you with the lingering question: What was it all for? It’s a gut punch, but an honest one.

The cast delivers performances that feel lived-in rather than performed. These are people, dedicated, scared, vulnerable, and irreparably changed by what they’re going through. The chemistry between the SEALs is palpable, and their banter—equal parts dark humor and desperate distraction—rings true. The actors manage to make the characters feel so human, even in the most dehumanizing circumstances.

I’ll be frank: Warfare is not a movie for everyone. It’s brutal, unflinching, and very uncomfortable. But that’s exactly what makes it so powerful. It doesn’t glorify war; it exposes it. It doesn’t offer easy answers; it forces you to grapple with hard truths.

For me, watching Warfare felt like an extension of the conversations I’ve had with the combat veterans in my life. It’s a reminder of the sacrifices they’ve made, the scars they carry, and the sheer pointlessness of so much of it. My partner, a Gulf War combat vet, and I often talk about how war movies have changed over the decades. The older films, with their sanitized heroics, feel almost laughable compared to the raw, morally complex narratives we see today. Warfare continues that evolution, and while it may not be easy to watch, it’s a film that demands to be seen. Just be prepared to walk away unsettled.

Rating: 4.5/5