By Jason Osiason

Blitz is a film that constantly pushes itself toward greatness. Steve McQueen turns wartime London into both a battlefield and a stage, capturing the hellfire of the Blitz with set pieces that feel urgent, tactile, and overwhelming. At the heart of it is George, a young boy evacuated to safety who refuses to stay away, slipping back into the city to find his mother. Through him we see the city not as distant history but as a living nightmare, a place where danger and fleeting moments of grace exist side by side. The air raids roar, the fires glow with frightening beauty, and yet McQueen never treats the destruction as spectacle. He anchors everything in the people trying to hold on to scraps of humanity in the middle of chaos.

The dance sequences are what take the film somewhere unexpected. Movement becomes survival, rhythm becomes defiance, joy dares to spark in the unlikeliest of places. These moments feel electric rather than indulgent, the editing letting them slam against scenes of rubble and silence until the contrasts almost make you dizzy. It’s unforgettable, like life refusing to be erased.

The film falters when it pulls back from its adult characters. The children feel real and immediate, filled with curiosity, fear, and mischief, while many of the grown-ups remain sketched in. The exception is Stephen Graham, who is terrifying as a man scavenging bodies in bombed out ruins. That thread alone carries more horror than most horror films this year, a vision of opportunism bred in war that clings to you after it’s over.

McQueen also leans into a more fantastical register, at times recalling early cinema adventures like Hugo. These flourishes don’t soften the brutality but instead frame it through a child’s sense of wonder, which makes the terror sharper and the brief escapes more exhilarating. You feel constantly on edge, not because you doubt the danger, but because you believe magic might slip through the cracks.

Blitz is a film caught between immediacy and myth. It does not always balance the two, but when it connects the result is overwhelming. McQueen captures London under siege with danger, tenderness, and fleeting grace. Even in its unevenness it stands as one of the boldest and most moving portraits of wartime resilience in recent memory. [B]