No Man’s Land: Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Bouncing Betties

M.G.M., Inc. (DVD), ASIN B000060MUZ

No Man’s Land should be absurd from the get-go. In what sane system of living do landmines like Bouncing Bettys exist in the same realm as a Bosnian with an uber-marketed Rolling Stones t-shirt (with the attendant value of some of the finest rock and roll of the past forty years)? The same century that controlled and eliminated many sicknesses produced ideologies and devices to kill the same number of people it took natural factors thousands of years to total up.

Into this quandary comes No Man’s Land. Two soldiers, Nino and Chiki (perhaps related to the equally interchangeable Rosencrantz and Guildenstern), on opposite sides of the Serbian/Bosnian conflict find themselves lost and abandoned near a trench. In their midst lies another wounded soldier lying atop a Bouncing Betty, a landmine that activates when de-pressurized. That means if you step on one, you won’t get blown up. But if you step off, Bouncing Betty springs up three feet and sprays enough lead with enough force to kill anyone within fifty yards. Both Nino and Chiki become lost in the titular no man’s land between the two trenches after the shooting of their particular guides and superiors.

Writer/director Danis Tanovic’s first film cobbles together elements of such rather aloof comic war beauties as M.A.S.H. and Dr. Strangelove. But Tanovic wisely subtracts the rather self-congratulatory element of the latter while adding observant touches of his own. The U.N. Chief of Command in the region doesn’t even own a map of No Man’s Land, let alone any commanding knowledge of the region, but the joke doesn’t linger longer than the time it takes to convey it.

No Man’s Land offers the distinct promise of an individual filming style. Tanovic’s camera instinct comes across as plain and straightforward compared to Ridley Scott’s in Black Hawk Down. Despite scenes shot at U.N. headquarters and British media (presumably BBC 1 or 2) the film’s conscience remains firmly and squarely focused on the three men near the two trenches. Tanovic avoids crucifying Mr. Landmine. You will find no “why me” speeches, no shots of the sun from a landmine’s perspective. Tanovic’s dialogue remains as dire and terse as his situation and ideology. The two remaining zealous grunts fight and attempt to reconcile and fight again this war — or perhaps all wars in miniature.

The film feels forced on occasion. The presence of a well-played reporter does not mean one can use stock news footage to propel a story. Some of the jokes directed at military upper echelons seem as fresh as an episode of M.A.S.H. from 1972. Not Achilles’ heels exactly, more like Achilles little toenails — not detrimental, but still a little annoying.

Tanovic expertly presents a lesson with many high moments. War always boils down to the gunner and the man whose eyes are in his sights. Command realigns when shown their follies, and all trenches remain the same.

First film alert for film buffs: get on the Tanovic ground floor.

Michael Pacholski

Michael Pacholski’s poem, “Winter Scene,” was published in the February 2002 issue of Midwest Review.