When it comes to stories of war, it’s often not the soldiers or those in charge that yield the most fascinating tales, but rather the people who existed on the periphery. Unfortunately, they’re rarely given the attention they deserve, since we tend to prioritize those who showcased clear depictions of bravery, even though so many of those who worked on the sidelines were just as courageous, if not more due to their lack of training and willingness to volunteer to help in the war effort in their way. Few figures embody this more than Lee Miller, who is widely considered one of the greatest war correspondents in the history of the 20th century, with her work during the Second World War being responsible for making the world aware of the true atrocities being committed in Europe, her fearless nature allowing her to stand at the frontlines and capture images that persist as some of the most harrowing of the period, and remain some of the most haunting pictures of war ever produced, so much that they continue to be seen as truly disturbing but essential snapshots of the violence and cruelty of the period. It’s impossible to discuss war journalism without Miller being evoked in some way (as we saw earlier this year in the similarly-themed Civil War, where she is regularly mentioned), but her own story has not been told in the manner she perhaps deserves until now, when Ellen Kuras makes her narrative debut with Lee, which covers Miller’s rise from a glamorous model who spent her days luxuriating in the splendour of French high society, to an intrepid war photographer who boldly risked her life to photograph the chaos into which the entire world had been plunged. After a long career of working across documentaries, television and film (primarily as a cinematographer), Kuras proves her mettle as a narrative storyteller, choosing Miller and her extraordinary life as her first subject, leading to a poignant and meaningful examination of a dark period in the past, and one that proves to be extraordinarily compelling in terms of how it handles much of its material and how it relates to the contemporary world.

Numerically it isn’t clear whether or not it’s true, but there’s a likelihood that the Second World War is the most commonly-covered period in the history of cinema, or at least one of the most frequent, since it was a turning point for the global culture, and one that set off a series of events that we still find having an impact to the present moment. Considering how often it is covered in the media, it’s clear that there wasn’t any need for another overly detailed discussion on the horrors of the conflict and how it came about or ended. Kuras does not fit into that category of rambunctious filmmakers who believe their retelling of the war will be the definitive version or the one that will make the most impact, and instead, she chooses to focus on the war through Miller’s eyes, rather than just using her as a character in a film about the war, a subtle but meaningful distinction that becomes extremely clear from the first few moments, where the conceptual framework of the film is set down and we are given a general idea of what to expect. Framed around what appears to be an interview between an aged Miller just before her death in the 1970s and a journalist who has taken an interest in her work (the relationship between the two is far more complex, but that’s another matter that the film conceals very well until the haunting final moments), the film is mainly told through flashbacks as Miller recounts her experiences during the war. It is not definitive by any means, and we see very little direct combat – the military are mostly peripheral, being seen as either obstacles that stand in the protagonist’s way, or pawns that she can carefully manipulate to gain access to places that a woman in the 1940s would never be permitted to go. To call Lee a feminist statement feels slightly too on-the-nose, since the film makes it obvious the challenges she faced, but it is still fascinating to see the story of the war told through a woman’s eyes, especially since Miller is one of the few individuals whose career as a journalist spanned the entirety of the war, from the rise of Adolf Hitler to his demise, but lived long enough to have her story told, rather than becoming one of the countless forgotten casualties who tried to inform the world of the horrors taking place. Kuras knows how to handle the many different narrative strands, implementing them seamlessly into a portrait of a truly complex woman who is undeniably a pioneer of his industry.

Miller was an undeniably complex woman with a story that cannot be condensed into a single sentence, and similarly, it required someone who would be able to tackle the various layers and nuances needed for the character, who essentially evolves from a libertine glamour model to an intrepid war journalist who has to find the balance between stone-faced bravery and genuine sympathy, which is the quality that has allowed her photographs to remain so relevant as pieces of historical documentation. Kuras could not have chosen a better lead for Lee than Kate Winslet, who delivers an exceptional performance as the titular character. Known for her fierce commitment to roles, and her willingness to showcase a genuine fearlessness that likely made Miller’s story resonate with her on a deeply personal level, Winslet possesses both the sophistication and salt-of-the-earth grit to play both sides of the character and convinces us entirely with this astonishing performance. She’s joined by a tremendous ensemble cast, which includes Marion Cotillard and Noémie Merlant as close friends of Miller from her days as a model who fell victim to the perils of the war, a delightfully idiosyncratic Andrea Riseborough as her employer and friend Audrey Withers, Andy Samberg as Davey Scherman (proving once again that comedians are exceptionally adept at drama – there are a couple of moments where the camera lingers on Samberg as he captures the emotions this character would be feeling watching the events unfold around him) and Josh O’Connor, who we are initially misled into thinking has a small, unremarkable part as a journalist that frames the story, but in reality has a much more important role that only becomes more clear as the film progresses. The ensemble orbits around Winslet and her mighty performance, which is as complex as it is genuinely moving, especially in the more haunting moments, carrying an intensity and heftiness that only confirms her as one of our greatest living actors.

Beyond the likelihood that Miller’s story would resonate with her based on her career as a cinematographer, Kuras’ experience in the industry means that she didn’t arrive at this film to make something conventional. There are far too many films about the Second World War that follow the same set of formulae, down to the most precise detail. This isn’t to suggest that Lee is wholly original – there are only a few ways to tell such a story without it becoming too overly experimental (which was never the intention), but considering most of this is confined to the story, we find that the director’s creativity comes into play with the execution of these ideas. Primarily, the film takes quite a distinct tone – at a cursory glance, it seems like a mostly traditional historical drama, following someone’s efforts during the war. However, the focus is not on the historical aspects so much as it is how Miller perceived them. It doesn’t fictionalize her story but rather redirects the central ideas to be firmly filtered through her perspective, focusing on the collision between her professional and personal life. Kuras manages to avoid creating something too overwrought, while still making it emotionally resonant and genuinely moving at some points. Essentially, this is not a film about the war, but rather how the protagonist navigated it, which includes dealing with the suffering and violence occurring around her, which contrasts with her own sheltered domestic life, her biggest regret seemingly being that she was unable to be a good wife and mother, choosing what she believed was a more essential responsibility. The moments where we are given insights into Miller’s mind are very moving, and Kuras’ masterful direction coupled with Winslet’s extraordinary performance allows the film to navigate this tricky boundary with elegance and honesty, never becoming too heavy-handed, and only allowing the most essential emotions to manifest, which makes an enormous difference and prevents the film from being yet another opportunity for a director to attempt to draw on the horrors of the Second World War to get an emotional reaction, and instead crafting something much more sincere and complex, which can only be done with the right command of both the story and its form.

Lee is a fairly simple affair that is driven almost entirely by a career-best performance by Winslet, and the vision of a director who saw the importance of the material, especially in elevating it from a conventional war drama and instead forming it into something far more engaging and nuanced. It is beautifully made (it is clear that this is a film directed by someone who has worked primarily as a cinematographer – the depictions of war-torn Europe are some of the most striking we’ve seen in such a film in quite some time), and functions as an opportunity for many exceptional artists on both sides of the camera to participate in bringing this story to life. It is not too complex in conveying its message or relaying the events of the story – it follows a mostly linear structure, which gives it a sense of continuous progression, a principle that Miller herself seemed to prioritize above anything else as she set out to work in a field that she knew would very likely be the cause of her demise, and the fact that she survived seemed to be something that was both surprising and gratifying for her until the very end. Lee is a powerful film, one that is genuinely inspiring, proving that anyone can make a difference if they are willing to take the risk to tell stories that they believe need to be told or draw attention to injustices that they feel cannot remain unseen. Miller’s influence remains a guiding force in contemporary journalism, and her legacy persists as we see many endlessly brave individuals risking everything for the sake of capturing reality – and this film only allows her story to become more widely known amongst those who may not have been aware of her incredible career and astonishing life, both of which are explored thoroughly and wholeheartedly celebrated (albeit with the sense of melancholy that did enshroud her life), leading to a truly poignant and moving film.