Jarhead

"A man goes to war. Afterwards he comes home and he sees that whatever he does with his life, he will always remain a Jarhead...We are still in a desert."

Based on Anthony Swofford's memoirs as a Marine on active service during the Gulf War, Jarhead is a harrowing account of a conflict hidden from the world.

Told through the eyes of the young Swoff, played with muscular vigour by Jake Gyllenhaal, Sam Mendes' latest film is a breathtaking recreation of the huge military operation involved in Operation Desert Storm.

The director brings home the horrors of the conflict in startling images: Soldiers wandering through the night-time desert; the sky blushed red and orange by the plumes of the blazing oil wells; an oil-slicked horse cantering out of the darkness; a tense stand-off between the young recruits and nomads, which threatens to descend into bloodshed.

Action sequences, including a full complement of thundering tanks and fighter planes, are a thrilling spectacle. One set piece, in which Swoff lines up an enemy general in his rifle sights then waits agonisingly for the kill command from on high, is a masterful demonstration in sustained tension.

"You see that kid, the one dreaming of serving his country? That Jarhead is me," says Swoff, welcoming us to his world of sandstorms, sweltering heat and male posturing.

Following in the footsteps of his grandfather and father, Swoff enlists in the Marines, where he trains as a sniper and forges a lasting bond with his scouting partner Troy (Sarsgaard).

Through the raw recruit's eyes, the war unfolds as a series of poignant and sometimes blackly humorous episodes. But for all its technical brio - and Jarhead is extremely accomplished, mimicking the same hand-held camerawork as Saving Private Ryan - the film lacks an emotional core.

The dazzling production design overrides any urgency to connect with the characters as they endure the hardships of army life, including ritual humiliation at the hands of Staff Sergeant Sykes (Foxx).

"We are the righteous hammer of God and that hammer is coming down," Sykes barks proudly, in between ordering his men to run through the desert in their chemical suits and surprising them with impromptu drills.

Only towards the end, when Swoff and his comrades stumble upon the charred remains of a caravan of innocent Iraqis fleeing the American soldiers, do we get any real sense of the psychological impact on the young men.

By then, like the soldiers, we've been rather numb to the violence, and hanker for a world far removed from guns and salutes. War: What is it good for? Absolutely nothing.