Cherry review – joyfully manic and utterly unique thriller

With last year’s pulpy gothic thriller The Devil All the Time, Tom Holland made it clear that he has plans to graduate from his role as Spider-Man into more mature fare. Now, reuniting with the Russo brothers, who initially brought him into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, he continues on this mission with the deeply strange but massively cathartic Cherry, a tale of war, trauma, hopelessness and addiction, based on the semi-autobiographical novel by soldier-turned-bank-robber Nico Walker, who wrote it in prison.

Holland plays Walker’s fictionalised avatar, never named in the film itself but dubbed “Cherry” in the credits, a bright young man who manages to constantly make the worst possible choices. After his loving girlfriend Emily (Ciara Bravo) briefly breaks up with him in an emotional panic, Cherry almost immediately decides to throw his life away and join the army, a decision that leaves him broken by war and robbing banks to fund a heroin habit once he’s spat out by the military back into civilian life.

One of the most charming performers in the MCU, here Holland is exceptional, lovable and moving as an everyman who keeps being dealt truly miserable hands by life, and he anchors a story that is often told in a downright manic way. This is the first time the Russo brothers have really had full control as directors, with no showrunners or Disney execs to tell them “no’,” and they’re clearly relishing the freedom. Every scene seems to have a new visual technique or quirk, while an eclectic soundtrack adds to the chaos.

At the outset of the film, all these techniques feel rather overdirected, as if the Russos lack a steadying hand, but as it progresses, all the pieces start to coalesce. A sense of hyperreality pervades, aided by the garishly glossy digital cinematography, Cherry’s perception of the world collapsing around him as the twin weights of addiction and PTSD prove too much to bear. Incredible, surreal set design and locations give the impression of a child’s recreation of barracks, prisons, and warzones, institutional spaces that infantilise this character, pushing him further and further from growing into his own life.

Jessica Goldberg’s script is heavily reliant on voiceover to drive the story, which can at times be a crutch but does leave room for some great jokes and observations and gives us additional insight into supporting characters that we often meet only briefly. The best-written sections are the most familiar ones, during Cherry’s basic training and first tour of Iraq. With screaming drill sergeants and post-carnage banter, it’s hardly uncharted ground, but charming dialogue, strong performances, and surreal visuals keep things exciting.

Refreshingly, there is absolutely no attempt made to glorify the US army, or even its soldiers. Plenty of films acknowledge the military’s institutional failings, but mostly with the caveat that the brothers-in-arms camaraderie of the troops is redemptive. Here, they’re mostly violent, idiot children, all in different stages of realising that they’ve made a huge mistake in heading overseas to a war they don’t understand. It’s an uncompromising position in an uncompromising film – Cherry has some of the most explicit, even instructive, heroin-taking I’ve ever seen in a mainstream American film.

As Cherry and Emily fall into a co-dependent addiction spiral following his return from Iraq, their faces breaking out in scabs as they vomit and shit themselves in public. There’s an almost horror-movie atmosphere to the film's later scenes, from the eerily empty mansion of Cherry’s dealer, known only as Pills and Coke (Jack Reynor, perfectly cast), to the ogreish kingpin Black, a giant, growling man to whom Cherry owes a lot of money. Black’s appearance marks a move into a more fantastical realm for the film, as Cherry’s ability to coherently perceive the world around him declines. The bank heists themselves, though, are realistic affairs, straddling the line between hilarious and grim, all sweaty demands and fear on both sides of the gun, with no glamorous Heat-esque shootouts.

It’s hard to overstate just how strange an experience Cherry is, sometimes keeping you at arm’s length, sometimes grabbing you by the collar to pull you in uncomfortably close, but never staying still. It’s perhaps too busy, and certainly very messy, but it’s fascinating and funny too, with an ending montage that I found profoundly affecting, throwing an earnest, emotional new light on everything that comes before it. Cherry will certainly prove off-putting for some – Marvel fans expecting a fun, MCU-esque caper will be shocked at what they find here – but the Russos find joy in the chaos, cutting loose to deliver one of 2021’s most original films.

Cherry is available to stream on AppleTV+ from 12 March.