Tom (Brian Stirner) is a young Englishman in early 1944. He joins the Army and spends weeks training at Aldershot. He and his mates know the invasion of Europe's coming but no particulars. Tom fears his individuality's subjugation to England's war machine. He struggles through training, making a few friends who flit out of his life, bedding some girls and confiding fears to his parents (John Franklyn-Robbins and Stella Tanner). Tom's unit prepares for front line duty, joining the British invasion force landing on Normandy.
Overlord strikingly captures war's mundane horror. Tom experiences an air raid, a stark training sequence more intense than Full Metal Jacket and lingers over friends and fears long after they're gone. Cinematographer John Alcott's bleak black-and-white photography stresses its dehumanizing aspects. This docudrama sparseness clashes with stylized fantasy scenes: Brian imagines sex with a one-night stand (Julie Neesam), and suffers a recurring premonition suggestive of Robert Capa's The Falling Soldier. Tom's fate at Sword Beach proves appropriately anticlimactic; he's merely a tiny cog in the British Empire, a stand-in for a nation struggling for its survival.
What really sets Overlord apart is its use of documentary footage. Cooper enlisted the help of London's Imperial War Museum, utilizing previously unseen archives to surreal effect. One strange sequence intercuts newsreel footage of Nazi Germany (reedited to make it look like Hitler and Co. are dancing a massed jig) with Tom's seduction by a prostitute. Another scene contrasts Tom's journey with an RAF raid on Germany. Just as effective are the mundane scenes of soldiers camping and preparing for the invasion, often set to period tunes. Cooper's interplay of realism and artistry achieves haunting effects.
Overlord is a remarkable picture. Stuart Cooper crafts a truly unique experience that should be seen, not read about.
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