If you're interested in military history, you start to notice something: in any discussion of motion pictures, you're the one critiquing the battle scenes. You're the one asking "Why didn't they . . . ?" Or saying "That couldn't happen." Or simply "That's not right!"
You're also the one nitpicking the details in historical films. Those usually begin with "Actually . . . " But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the way films depict battles. The one abiding constant is that good guys aren't allowed to use good tactics. Why do heroes always have to do dumb things?
For example, in the recent Avengers: Infinity War, when the bad guys break through the force-field barrier around Wakanda, the heroes (including the entire Wakandan army) charge forward to fight them hand to hand. No artillery? No air support except for two flying superheroes? One crew-served light machine gun would have utterly turned the tide of that battle. Perhaps the Wakandans, after centuries of isolation, aren't up on 20th-century tactics, but surely Captain America, a World War II veteran, should know the basics.
One can cite endless other instances: most of the battles in Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings movies, most of the battles in the Narnia film adaptations, and pretty much all the Star Wars films. Invariably the heroes charge bravely forward against superior odds, blazing away with hand weapons (or swinging swords). Meanwhile the villains rely on powerful ranged weapons launching devastating but poorly-aimed single shots.
The reason, of course, is that what makes good sense on the battlefield looks terrible on screen. The key tactic of any combat since about September of 1914 has been "stay out of sight." You stay down, you use cover as much as you can, and you try to get the enemy in your sights before they realize you're even there. Also, whenever possible you call in help from your friendly artillery units, to drop a barrage on the poor bastards before they know what's happening. On the strategic level you stay away from superior enemy forces, and concentrate your own units to isolate and gang up on enemy formations.
As General Patton famously said of winning a war, it's done "by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country." And that's ugly. The virtues we look for in cinematic heroes are those of the pre-Modern, "chivalric" era: individual courage, honor, and fair play. A knight (and we're talking about the fictional ideal, here, not the reality of medieval warfare) would never attack without issuing a challenge, or engage an unarmed foe. But ever since the development of firearms, that's been a recipe for defeat. Those are the virtues of warriors, not soldiers.
(This attitude occasionally even seeps into real-world politics. Every now and then one hears criticism of tactics like drone strikes or the use of night-vision gear as "cowardly" or "push-button warfare." It would be idiotic if it weren't so dishonest.)
This is a problem which is unlikely to go away any time soon. The chivalric, "knightly" mode of combat is deeply-rooted in our culture, possibly even in our genes. When hominids fight for dominance, they have to show mercy to their defeated foes, because there's no point in displaying dominance over a dead guy. But nation-states don't follow the same rules, at least not at the individual scale. So, until warfare becomes visually glamorous again, we can expect to hear nerds like me saying "That's not right!" at the movies.
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