For every general who thinks they've got war down to a science – a mix of tactics, logistics, manpower, and "warfighting" testosterone levels – there's a formidable, often invisible foe waiting to crush them all.
In Pressure, the drama of D-Day preparation comes down to wind, rain, and a slim chance of striking between storms. "This moment demands judgement," crows one British field marshal (Damian Lewis, under a pile of pomade, as Montgomery). "I've got men ready and primed for the big match. Get them onto the beaches, somehow, and leave the rest to me."
Fortunately, in the film as in real life, this old school tactician isn't in charge. The architect of D-Day may have been Supreme Allied Commander Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, but the brains belonged to a Scottish meteorologist, RAF Group Captain James Stagg, who used his emerging science to pinpoint the ideal moment for storming the beaches of Normandy.
Though Stagg's contribution isn't as little-known as the movie's ads would have us believe (he's depicted in The Longest Day, a few TV movies, and countless WWII books), he has never been the central figure. That changes with this film based on David Haig's 2014 play. Directed by Anthony Maras (Hotel Mumbai), Pressure is sturdy and straightforward, an old-fashioned dad movie in the best sense.
Yet in its depiction of the clash between science and conventional wisdom, it finds new relevance in what Stagg and his colleagues achieved behind the scenes of the push for victory over Hitler. Best of all, it puts the mesmerizing Andrew Scott in a leading role. Between Pressure and the upcoming Elsinore, the Irish actor is establishing himself as a great leading man.
Pressure begins when Stagg, summoned to Allied headquarters in Hampshire, learns of the secret plan to send overwhelming air, land, and sea forces across the English Channel to retake Nazi-controlled France. Immediately he bristles at the methods of his American counterpart, Col. Krick (a slick, confident Chris Messina), who forecasts sunny skies for 5 June 1946 (the original date for the invasion).
The Yank's reasoning? It's always sunny on 5 June. Stagg's reaction is a silent, dismissive, almost invisible shudder. Armed with scientific data (atmospheric and sea-level readings from across the Atlantic), he makes a prediction – storms and heavy seas – that is met with fury in the war room. (The supporting cast of harrumphing uniforms is almost invisible, at times, beneath a cloud of cigarette smoke.)
As Eisenhower, Brendan Fraser, known for roles comic (The Mummy) and mopey (The Whale), is an unlikely choice to play a career military man: The actor has neither the voice nor the bearing of a commander. But because Pressure reveals Eisenhower's private doubts and earns not-so-private disrespect from his Allied underlings, Fraser's dolorous presence works better than expected. ("When I close my eyes, all I see is failure," Ike says, recalling a disastrous pre-D-Day exercise.)
Though Eisenhower's greatest confidante was his driver and personal assistant Kay Summersby (Kerry Condon), the film doesn't shed much light on their relationship. It's down to Scott to carry the day. His Stagg is quietly in awe of the vast, uncontrollable forces that surround the mission, and the only man brave enough to admit that he is not absolutely sure what will happen.
Sometimes accused of excessively quirky performances (see his Moriarty in Sherlock), Scott embodies the understated power of simply doing one's job under pressure. You don't expect a scientist, teased about being a dull numbers-cruncher, to muse, "It feeds us, the weather. It could destroy us. It controls our daily life. People ask: When will it rain? When will the sun come out? But what about: Why did it rain? Why does the wind blow?" Nor do you expect Scott's almost offhand, nearly inaudible delivery of his final thought, "What's the wind?"
Pressure blends Maras' effective battle scenes with enhanced historical footage: though D-Day proved an Allied triumph the first wave was slaughtered. The film is at its best in quieter moments, as when, on a deceptively clear moonllit night, Stagg, alone with his terrible knowledge, listens to the idle, desperate songs sung by soon-to-be-dead servicemen. But he cannot warn them of the storm that's coming. "What's the wind?" You can't imagine Pete Hegseth murmuring that.
