It is the most low-key “war movie” I have seen. Strongly based on fact, it portrays the remnants of a beaten army trying to stay alive, often via less than heroic means. Even the signature RAF fighter pilot is mild-mannered in his bravery; there is no spirit of derring-do, no “top gun” hotdogging. He could re-cross the Channel to safety on his remaining 5 gallons of fuel; he quietly decides to expend his last pound of petrol protecting the Tommies who are being shot up on the beaches. No matter. The movie critics, always whores to social fads, lacked the balls to pan this fine film, so they simply ignored it rather than buck the most powerful hate group* of our time: radical feminists. Calling the movie “a monument to maleness” (maleness = malignity), the harridans were incensed that it failed to pretend that women took part in the fighting.
NOTE: A documentary about the sinking of the USS Indianapolis proved that one may no longer say that 300 men were saved and 800 men were blown to bits, burned to death, drowned, or eaten by sharks. One must call them “persons”.
Anyway, Dunkirk has pissed off all the right persons. We highly recommend it.
*Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson do not peddle hate groups. These “reverends” (gimme a break) are victimization hustlers. Do-dah.
P.S.: Trannies are now vying for virulence with the leslies. Girl Power. Yay.

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