Sundance Review: Atropia is a Satirical Anti-War Farce That Fails to Maintain Its Commentary

      In the fictional nation of Atropia, everything occurs authentically. Located in the southern California desert, this military-built training area resembles an Iraqi city, complete with numerous actors posing as insurgents and merchants. The locale—commonly referred to as “The Box,” one of 200 mock villages across the country—is designed to provide an immersive, role-playing setting, serving as a sophisticated warfare simulation for soldiers prior to their deployment to the Middle East. Upon entering this replica, the mission is clear for those gearing up for combat: complete tasks, understand the local culture, and survive.

      Hailey Gates’ Atropia, a partially successful parody of the War on Terror, quickly illustrates its premise. In a cliché opening scene reminiscent of many war dramas from the Bush era, she depicts the bustling activity of a vibrant Middle Eastern intersection while American troops patrol the area. Suddenly, terrorists rush in, shout “Death to America,” and attach IEDs to a vehicle that subsequently explodes, scattering body parts and screams into the heavy, dusty atmosphere. It’s a shocking moment until a loudspeaker calls “Cut,” allowing everyone to break character and voice their concerns to a pyrotechnics crew about a fake donkey that failed to detonate.

      Fayruz (Alia Shakwat) is at the heart of this absurdity (both the film and the setting) as the most talented (or at least the most ambitious) performer. She hopes to leverage her time in Atropia to advance her long-overdue acting career, and she takes her roles—such as “mustard gas chemist” or “bread maker”—very seriously. During breaks, she advises fellow performers—some Iraqi, others Mexican—about the “importance of delving into your backstory,” occasionally going overboard when she suspects Hollywood talent scouts are around. Although she grapples with complex views on the war and her role in this endeavor (her family disapproves of her career choice), she believes her only escape is to delve deeper into it.

      This perspective is challenged with the arrival of Abu Dice (Callum Turner), a soldier on leave who is assigned to Atropia to act as an Iraqi insurgent. Initially, he appears to threaten her authority—armed with real knowledge of these towns, he questions Fayruz’s decisions and acting abilities. However, they eventually develop romantic feelings for one another (their chemistry adds energy to the second act), choosing to disregard the rules and complicating matters for the U.S. officials overseeing the training. Is their budding relationship genuine, or merely another layer of performance? As Dice and Fayruz leave The Box, it sometimes seems even Turner and Shakwat are uncertain of the answer.

      Atropia, produced by Luca Guadagnino, is inspired by Gates’ short film Shako Mako and has draw from satires like Robert Altman’s M*A*S*H and Ernst Lubitsch’s To Be or Not to Be. Although Gates initially aimed to create a documentary about the actual villages used for training, a lack of governmental support led her to focus on portraying life from the actors’ perspectives. This approach proves somewhat effective, particularly in the first 20 minutes when a well-known actor—previously known for Middle Eastern war films—makes a cameo as a Hollywood scout visiting a training session. Gates enjoys showcasing various roles (e.g., makeup artists applying blood to amputated limbs) and revealing the inner lives of Fayruz's colleagues.

      However, as the film progresses into feature length, this otherwise original premise for a farce loses its impact. Gates attempts to merge early-21st-century political humor with the sometimes risqué romance blossoming between her leads, but any critique or overarching theme regarding the U.S. involvement in Iraq becomes muddled by the unfolding antics. At one point, after escaping detention, Fayruz and Dice break the rules of their role-playing and replicate Michael Scott-style improv by firing on soldiers in their line of sight. Can this scenario genuinely prepare armed forces for the brutal realities they are about to face? Shouldn’t it be more convincing?

      At its weakest, Atropia resembles an exaggerated second-half SNL skit, lacking the humor or sharpness it aspires to deliver. The narrative threads begin to unravel. Gates recognizes the absurdities inherent in war, noting that those making crucial decisions often lack an understanding of its intricacies—evidenced by the two authorities (Tim Heidecker and Chloë Sevigny) managing Atropia, who seem better suited to casting a Hollywood film than effectively supervising unskilled and incompetent troops. It makes sense to portray everyone as jesters, yet this approach feels one-dimensional, akin to the satirical “Box News” reporter pretending to deliver serious coverage from the front lines while absolving U.S. leadership from accountability.

      As the romantic storyline develops, the tone shifts towards the overly silly and sidetracked, particularly contrasting with the earnest monologue Fay