Rivkah Writes…

August 18, 2009

Hurts So Good: War as a Drug in “The Hurt Locker.”*

Can addictions ever be deemed positive? And if so, by what measure? These questions are brilliantly explored in “The Hurt Locker,” directed by Kathryn Bigelow.

On one level, “The Hurt Locker” is an astonishingly suspenseful movie, focusing on a 3-man U.S. bomb disposal squad stationed in Iraq. On another, the movie serves as a canvas against which basic human emotions are played out, along with complex motivations for the action we see.

Staff Sgt. William James, the movie’s protagonist and the actual bomb disposal specialist, does not enjoy war per se, so much as the thrill of mastering what makes Iraqi bombs – well, tick. His approach to war is that of the obsessive, single-minded genius, fascinated by the bombs he defuses, challenged by their structural complexity, and determined to locate and disarm their operating systems, even when his actions endanger both his own and his men’s lives. By contrast, James cannot quite manage the humdrum routines of civilian life. He is a man for whom, as the voiceover at the start of the movie observes, “war is a drug.” You can almost see a pre-military James finding less acceptable outlets for his recklessness – until the army teaches him to sublimate those tendencies and live life on the edge in the name of patriotism. Like any addicts, then, James both loves and needs to diffuse bombs, even though the means to his salvation may one day kill him.

But while James is impervious to fear, he is no psychopath. He shows affection and concern for an Iraqi boy with the unlikely name of Beckham; continually encourages Specialist Eldridge, the most inexperienced and apprehensive of the 3-man operation; is reluctant to brag about his accomplishments; and clearly wants to save lives – those of innocent Iraqis as well as Americans. Yet James’ careless bravery, irrespective of its results, angers and terrifies Sgt. Sanborn and Specialist Eldridge, for whom survival is the name of the game in just another dangerous tour of duty. While they’re counting down the days to the end of their deployment, James revels in the daily peril and once home, pines for his next Iraqi stint. Back in the combat zone, the cockiness returns to his eyes and the swagger to his tread. James is such a cocktail of recklessness, compassion, and naïveté, that you find yourself sitting on the edge of your seat, uncertain whether to shake your head or cheer him on. He pulls off his protective gear to detonate a multiple bomb structure in the trunk of a car, claiming that “we’re dealing with enough ammo to blow us all to Jesus, so I may as well die comfortable”; is a pleased as a child when finally unearthing the deadly operating switch; and doesn’t even get angry when Sanborn, whom he technically outranks, decks him for ripping off his headphones in frustration. James isn’t in this for honor or pride – he just loves what he’s doing; nothing he’s done has come closer to feeding his adrenalin rush. Hooked, armed, and dangerously likeable, it’s no wonder James scares Eldridge and Sanborn; they never came to Iraq expecting to fight the enemy in their own back yard.

*A reference to a poem of the same name by Brian Turner, the Hurt Locker symbolizes, among other possibilities, the repository for the weapons and agents of destruction spawned by the war.


  1. Posting the same lead-in to my LinkedIn heads-up about this posting, here are some interesting responses:

    Freelance Success

    Writing Mafia

    Comment by rivkahwrites — August 20, 2009 @ 12:05 am | Reply

  2. Rivkah,
    I look forward to seeing the film when it gets to Latvia. I think there can be people who are junkies for ultimately useful or positive behaviors. Why not a heart surgery addict who loves the “thrill” of fixing blood vessels and hearts (as long as she doesn’t drag healthy people off the street to feed her habit:)). I think most people who love their work are addicted to it, like those who qualify to retire but never actually do. Perhaps we are both journalism junkies 🙂

    Comment by Juris Kaža — August 20, 2009 @ 3:47 am | Reply

    • Juris – I completely agree. Some surgeons are more consumed with uncovering the mystery of confounding symptoms than with the patient suffering them – but he/she’s a great diagnostician, so no one’s going to complain. We have a series called “House” in the US that typifies this kind of anomaly – the misanthrope who loves a medical mystery and cures patients in the process.

      As for us being journalism junkies, on a personal level, I’d say it’s broader than that. I think I’d define myself rather as a self-actualization junkie. I believe it’s not enough to just “be” – I have to use the talents I was given to realize my potential. It’s not about money (although money would be nice!) it’s more about the writing and the ability of the writing to touch the lives of others. Mostly it’s a productive addiction, but sometimes, I should really just kick back and take a break!

      Thanks for your comment, Juris.

      Comment by rivkahwrites — August 20, 2009 @ 6:46 am | Reply

  3. Rikvah,
    We do get House here, and he is a total SOB except for his talent at uncovering bizarre causes of disease. Great acting for a Brit (I hear his American voice behind the totally demented policy of dubbing, ever hear of subtitles??). I blog when I don’t get enough of a kick from my regular quasijournalistic work. 🙂

    Comment by Juris Kaža — August 20, 2009 @ 7:00 am | Reply

    • I hear you loud and clear, Juris!

      Comment by rivkahwrites — August 20, 2009 @ 9:40 am | Reply

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply to rivkahwrites Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: