A decade after a deadly, laboratory-grown ‘simian flu’ has swept across the planet, humanity has fallen from its perch. As the opening credits glide by, the fate of our species is summed up in a single line: “Most of us were killed by the disease. The rest were killed in the fighting.” From the opening shot, in which apes hunt deer through lush forests, Cloverfield and Let Me In director Matt Reeves (taking over from Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes’ Rupert Wyatt) builds up an air of not only realism, but unusual tension. Even as we’re given a tour of the apes’ idyllic community, where we see the gentle orangutan Maurice teaching young apes how to read and write, there’s a sense of foreboding and unease. The scale Reeves and his army of visual effects artists at Weta have achieved here is exceptional, both in terms of the apes’ realism and the imagination present in every shot. But what’s more important is not merely the quality of the visual effects themselves, but how effectively they’re used to tell Dawn’s story. Case in point: Andy Serkis’ startling performance as Caesar. It’s easy to forget that what we’re seeing is a processed version of actor Serkis, his movements and expressions captured on a computer and then used to create the super-intelligent leader of the apes – the strength of both the effects and Serkis’ performance is such that the artistry becomes almost invisible. Caesar’s turbulent history can be read in his limpid, world-weary eyes; the few words he speaks come from deep down in his chest, as though every syllable is conjured up through sheer force of will. Reeves deepens the drama further by showing the goodness both sides share: their desire to protect their loved ones; Malcolm and Caesar’s desperation to avoid conflict at any cost. Eventually, however, the floodgates open, and the violence of the film’s second half is all the more gut-wrenching thanks to the surety of the build-up. With Michael Giacchino’s thunderous score as the backwash, Dawn builds to an intense final third, as old grudges come spilling out and plans begin to unravel. The naturalism of Michael Seresin’s subtly-lit and framed cinematography pays off here, as scenes which could have been the stuff of B-movie goofiness instead play out with extraordinary force. Without drifting into spoiler territory, we can safely say that Kobal emerges as one of the most cunning and downright intimidating screen villains of the year so far. As a summer film, Dawn is difficult to fault. Its performances, from Jason Clarke via Keri Russell (who plays Malcolm’s wife), to Gary Oldman and the actors behind the apes (among them Terry Notary, Karin Konoval, Doc Shaw and Judy Greer as well as Serkis and Kebbell) are uniformly excellent. As a story, Dawn bewitches from beginning to end, from its angst-filled opening to its spectacular, action-filled climax. Here’s a film so technically well-made and impeccably told that the triumph of its visual effects and the clarity of its writing and acting all meld into one, seamless whole. The portrait it builds of humankind, often well-meaning yet constantly thwarted by its flaws, may be a downbeat one, but that is simply another reason why it’s such an incredible filmmaking achievement. Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes should not exist – but we’re hugely grateful that it does. Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes is out in UK cinemas on the 17th July. Follow our Twitter feed for faster news and bad jokes right here. And be our Facebook chum here.
