Warfare (2025) is a visceral war action film co-written and directed by Alex Garland and former Navy SEAL Ray Mendoza. Drawing directly from Mendoza’s firsthand experience in the Iraq War, the film is inspired by a real-life operation he was part of in 2006, bringing an intense level of authenticity to the screen to deliver one of the most raw and aggressive war films to date. The film is not about heroes or villains, and there’s no cinematic special ops-style mission briefing with a rousing monologue. It’s 90 minutes of chaos that hits like a truck and never lets off the gas.
Within minutes of the opening frame, the film plops you into a combat unit moments before their mission spirals into complete chaos. There’s no exposition and barely any time to settle in. You’re breathing the same dust, dodging the same bullets, and gripping your seat with the same white-knuckle panic these operators feel.
I had a chance to catch the screening in an IMAX theater, which I would highly recommend doing if you can. This is the type of film that should be seen on a big screen in a theater because It’s an assault on the senses in the most calculated, immersive way possible. The sound design is next-level and unlike any film experience I’ve had. You hear every gunshot, every ricochet, and every gut-wrenching scream which feels surgically engineered to rip through your nervous system. You don’t just hear this movie — you feel it. Even subtle surprise details make a difference, like when grenades clink across floors like jump scares in a horror film. Radios scream with static and shouts while you try to catch your breath. Even the small sounds — bandages being pressed into wounds, boots crunching outside a fragile wall — feel loaded with tension.
During the post-screening Q&A, Ray Mendoza—who co-directed the film and served in the very unit depicted on screen—emphasized that Warfare is “based on memory.” This isn’t a dramatized war story; it’s a cinematic reflection of real moments lived. The film deliberately avoids deep character backstories, opting instead for authenticity. The SEAL team is introduced with just enough humanity—sharing laughs over a silly video, bonded like brothers—before they’re thrust into a relentless, hellish mission. That brief moment of levity makes what follows land like a gut punch. As the chaos unfolds, you naturally begin to recognize the dynamics: who steps up as a leader, who’s still green, and who’s barely holding it together. These aren’t action movie archetypes—they’re scared, young men just trying to survive.
The performances are incredibly grounded. Cosmo Jarvis delivers one of his best performances in his young career, radiating focus and dread in equal measure. Joseph Quinn, still riding high from Stranger Things, proves he’s more than a one-hit wonder. Will Poulter adds an emotional undercurrent that doesn’t need words. There’s no flashy ‘Hollywood’ performances, and that’s exactly what makes them believable.
Warfare never once glamorizes war. There’s no slow-motion hero shot, no triumphant score. It’s relentless, claustrophobic, and deeply upsetting. The film also gives a chilling glimpse into civilian life caught in the crossfire. There’s a local family trapped in the same building as the SEAL operators, and their presence is handled with stark realism. They’re not part of the plot — they’re just there, in the wrong place at the worst time.
The entire film unfolds in and around one location, and yet it never feels small. The claustrophobia enhances the tension, making every hallway, stairwell, and shadow feel like a threat. The cinematography and camera work are tight, immersive, and at times disorienting — in the best way. It doesn’t feel like a video game or a stylized shootout. It feels uncomfortably real by design.
The ending is abrupt. No closure, no coda, just silence. For some viewers, it might feel jarring and sudden because it doesn’t offer as much closure as we’re used to seeing in most films. But in the context of what the film is doing, it works. When the shooting stops, it’s over. Something is terrifying about how quickly everything ends, and it leaves you with a lump in your throat and your heart still racing.
Warfare isn’t here to entertain in the traditional Hollywood sense. It to drops you into the furnace and pulls you out barely breathing. It’s relentless, uncompromising, and brutally effective. This isn’t just one of the best war films in recent years — it’s one of the most immersive and harrowing experiences you’ll have in a theater.