Dunkirk: Retreat Is Not Victory, But the Prerequisite for Victory

Dunkirk: Retreat Is Not Victory, But the Prerequisite for Victory

The film Dunkirk recreates the evacuation of the British and French forces at Dunkirk to the greatest extent possible. For a historical film, that alone makes it extraordinarily successful. No one can reproduce history at the same cost, but cinema can at least strive to portray part of it as truthfully as possible. I know very little about the history of World War II; aside from general history books, I am unfamiliar with most of the details. Before watching Dunkirk, I briefly reviewed this episode of history, but it was not until I finished the film that I fully felt the kind of shock that words alone cannot convey.

Dunkirk is hardly a source of pride for the former British Empire. It was almost certainly one of the most humiliating moments in British military history. Yet it is precisely in such circumstances that so much becomes deeply moving. To a considerable extent, the Dunkirk evacuation was not a victory, but it was a prerequisite for later victory. So the fact that the number of troops successfully evacuated ended up being ten times the originally planned number was already an immense success.

The film feels strikingly real in its atmosphere, large-scale scenes, and crowd sequences. The only thing that feels slightly excessive is the commander’s composure from beginning to end, even though there are also glimpses of genuine emotion. As a viewer, his calmness on the big screen sometimes feels a little out of place. But then again, perhaps that really was an accurate reflection of the commander’s state of mind at the time: remaining unshaken even as disaster loomed, which may well have been the mark of true courage.

Beyond that, the human stories set against this historical backdrop do not follow one single main thread or a complete, continuous plotline. Instead, the film interweaves several perspectives: Air Force pilots, ordinary soldiers trying to escape, French soldiers, the captain of a civilian boat and his relatives, and so on. From character selection to narrative style, the director is crisp and decisive. The characters are highly representative, and the storytelling never drags. From the very beginning, the film plunges straight into the subject through intense gunfire, without making any special effort to accommodate viewers unfamiliar with this chapter of history. Yet the film proves that even someone who knows nothing about it can still gradually piece together a relatively complete understanding through the background information revealed bit by bit.

The director introduces context cleverly through commanders, soldiers, newspapers, and other elements, rather than simply relying on text cards on the screen. The care behind this approach is obvious, and the final effect is indeed far better than just using subtitles to explain the background.

The story is unquestionably moving. Not only are the broad historical facts both heartbreaking and inspiring, but some of the specific characters chosen by the filmmaker were also drawn from real participants in history, which makes the greatness of ordinary people within history all the more striking. One of the most moving scenes is undoubtedly the moment when a warship is hit and sinks, and the British and French troops fall into utter despair—only to see countless civilian boats coming across the water. The arm in the water failing to find a railing as a ship goes down, the soldiers struggling when burning fuel spreads across the sea after a bombing, and even the accidental injury and death of the old boat captain’s young relative—every one of these moments is deeply affecting.

Thirty thousand or three hundred thousand are just numbers in history. But through scenes like these, the film makes every lost life feel regrettable and heartbreaking. These moments feel like a tribute of mourning for every life at Dunkirk that never made it home.

Retreat itself is not victory, and so there are no grand heroes to celebrate in the usual sense. Yet even in such a setting, the director still manages to create heroes of war through the three British pilots in the film, as well as, through dialogue, the boat captain’s eldest son. We see how these pilots press on toward the front line even when they know they are outnumbered and may not return because they do not have enough fuel; how they encounter the enemy in the air and fight; and how they remain calm and fearless until the very last moment. The portrayal of these fighting heroes gives one confidence in the wars still to come, and also makes the great retreat itself feel more meaningful.

As in the exchange near the end of the film between the soldiers and the civilians: faced with crowds welcoming them home, a soldier is filled with guilt and confusion and says, “All we did was survive.” The reply he receives—“That’s enough”—goes straight to the heart.

Throughout the entire film, aside from planes and bullets, the German army is almost never actually seen. In a war film, to show only one side of the conflict is remarkable enough to be called a miracle. Yet this very choice—to tell the story from the perspective of the British and French forces and the rescue effort—makes the theme more focused, the narrative more concentrated, and the plot more tightly constructed. Even the large-scale rescue scene does not appear until the very end; before that, the story is advanced entirely through the perspective of a single civilian boat. Then, all at once, the film creates a profoundly moving scene and atmosphere. Perhaps only a master director like Nolan would dare take such a risk.

In short, Dunkirk truly was a moment in World War II history worth remembering, and film is perhaps the best way to help more people unfamiliar with history come to understand it. What remains in textbooks may only be cold words, but only by feeling as if we are there can we truly empathize. From this perspective, perhaps we need more films like Dunkirk to record history.