Boston Globe, 25 December 2008
By Ty Burr

It is my duty to report - to the possible chagrin of more than a few readers - that "Valkyrie" is not a disaster. On the contrary: It's a smooth, compelling, almost suspenseful (more on that in a bit), and slightly hollow Hollywood period piece - a World War II action-drama in which an intriguing (but not electrifying) star performance is buttressed by stellar support. Above all, it finally gives Tom Cruise a mission that actually turns out to be impossible.

That knowledge - that the conspiracy headed by German Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (Cruise) failed to assassinate Adolf Hitler and stage a successful coup d'etat on July 20, 1944 - hangs over "Valkyrie" like an anvil on a thread. Director Bryan Singer, reuniting with his "Usual Suspects" screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie as well as Nathan Alexander, works feverishly to whip up excitement, throwing datelines and tick-tock time titles on the screen as if to glue us to the moment. "11 a.m.," "4:15 p.m.," "6:39 p.m." - after a while I just synchronized my watch and said the hell with it.

The film's historical hook is that not all Germans thought Hitler was a swell fella and that some, in fact, came to consider him a traitor to true German glory. Colonel von Stauffenberg returns from the Third Reich's failed Tunisian campaign minus an eye and an arm but suffused with righteous fury at the Fuhrer's murderous regime. "I serve my country," he says, "but this is not my country."

This line is delivered in a clenched, intense near-whisper that Cruise never relinquishes, except to shout the occasional order late in the going. The lack of any perceptible German accent isn't that bothersome - Cruise well understands that the masses pay for his star wattage rather than to see him transform into something he's not ("Tropic Thunder" notwithstanding) - and, anyway, he's surrounded by British actors barking away in British cadences. Our most inherently fascistic superstar ("Top Gun," anyone?) is testing exactly how far his will can triumph here and he may know the ironies involved better than you think.

Cruise thus holds down the middle, which allows his supporting cast to work the corners in rewarding, even entertaining ways. After the Colonel recuperates from his injuries, he joins a cabal already in progress, headed by politicians (Kevin McNally as would-be Chancellor Carl Goerdeler), ex-generals (Terence Stamp as Ludwig Beck), and lower-ranking officers (Kenneth Branagh among them). The group is riven by infighting, indecision, jangled nerves: Bill Nighy alone sustains the movie as General Friedrich Olbricht, a fussy little bureaucrat who can't quite believe what he's involved in. With just the slightest tilt toward black comedy, "Valkyrie" could have been the "Dilbert" of Nazi movies.

But the weight of history sits heavily on this film's shoulders, and, besides, it's awards season. Thankfully, Singer sticks close to the facts, and he knows he has a rich dramatic gimmick in von Stauffenberg's game-changing notion: To turn the Fuhrer's existing anti-coup plan, code-named "Valkyrie," into a Trojan Horse assault. Under the pretext of saving the Reich, the conspirators aim to destroy it.

This entails acts of subterfuge worthy of "Mission: Impossible" itself, including bamboozling a high-ranking general (Tom Wilkinson, delightfully two-faced) and using an entire, unsuspecting reserve army (headed by Thomas Kretschmann, one of the few actual Germans playing a German) for the plot's own ends.

And, yes, Hitler (David Bamber) needs to be taken out, a task that falls to von Stauffenberg during a meeting at the Wolf's Lair in East Prussia. Again, the star creates a heroic model of positive fascist thinking - this train will run on time, dammit - amid a sea of lesser but more colorful figures: Eddie Izzard as a Hitler factotum in on the plot, Christian Berkel as a demolitions expert convinced any problem can be solved with the proper application of high explosives.

"Valkyrie" is at its most convincing - tragic, even - during the climactic scenes that suggest how close these men came to pulling it off. One's heart hurts: nine months of war and millions of deaths were so nearly averted. For a few heady hours, Berlin was in their hands, and then events conspired against the conspirators. In another touch worthy of "The Office," the film's turning point may be the decision by a nameless official in the teletype department over which side's messages to forward. As Germany itself hangs in the balance, we see the terrified cogs turning in this nonentity's head as he wonders which choice might cost him his job.

Hitler survived, of course. So will Cruise, even if his Claus von Stauffenberg is an honorable conception that's ultimately too thin to fully rise up from the pages of history. This story deserves to be told, but for reasons best known to himself, the star has latched onto a strictly Nietzschean interpretation that he rides into the ground. Maybe he thinks what doesn't kill him will win him an Oscar.