'Sicario' is a relentless, brutal look at the realities of the drug war
The film wastes no time getting to the nitty-gritty as it opens with Kate Macer (Emily Blunt) leading the charge on her own FBI kidnapping task force. During the opening raid, forty-plus corpses are discovered in the walls of a home owned by a vicious Mexican cartel.
A Department of Defense "consultant" (Josh Brolin) then plucks a shell-shocked Kate her from the field to join his inter-agency operation along with Alejandro (Benicio del Toro), another alleged DoD "consultant."
From the very moment Kate agrees to join her new team, she is systematically lied to. She is told they're going on a trip to El Paso, but wind up in the war-torn streets of Juarez, where limbless bodies hang in public view. Kate is never briefed on the operation and remains entirely in the dark until forced to speak-up, and this is par for the course.
As Kate becomes embedded deeper into this lawless world, her repeated attempts to play things "by-the-book" are systemically rejected. By the end of the film, the ugly truth is revealed: there's no room for morals or ethics here. Welcome to the War on Drugs.
"Sicario" is deliberately slow, but even then, it meanders a bit in the middle. Kate is a conduit for the audience, so we are just as sheltered by the lack of information as Kate herself, and this can be aggravating at times and make the film feel a bit airy and aimless.
It all builds towards an intense, uniquely shot sequence and an ending that gave me chills, and by then, I had forgiven the film's (thematically intentional) disorientation. It's a hauntingly graceful film, and the methodical pacing ultimately works in its favor.
Emily Blunt is fantastic as Kate Macer and nails the nuance associated with doing all she can to be on the right side of the law and still winding up on the dark side.
Benicio del Toro, however, is the film's greatest asset as a mysterious force whose allegiances are not made explicitly clear until all is said and done. He's equal parts thoughtful and brooding, which makes his rage and determination that much more palpable.
Technically speaking, the film is gorgeous. The urgency of its pulsating score, the gorgeous photography (by cinema legend Roger Deakins), the commanding performances - every element works towards a full, truly cinematic experience. All the violence is handled in such a way that pops with intensity and dread.
The real beauty of "Sicario" is that it is entirely apolitical and amoral; it presents the horrors and lets them speak for themselves. It's not pushing any sort of agenda, but it's so relentlessly in-your-face that you'll leave the theater mortified at how real it all might be.
Watch the trailer below.