The Hurt Locker (2008) Script Review | #61 WGA 101 Greatest Scripts of the 21st Century

Gripping and taut, The Hurt Locker remains one of the few thrilling stories to come out of the Iraq War even in spite of its stereotypes.

Logline: Forced to play a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse in the chaos of war, an elite Army bomb squad unit must come together in a city where everyone is a potential enemy and every object could be a deadly bomb.

Written by: Mark Boal

Pages: 118

Given just how saturated the market has become since the 2010s with movies about the Iraq or Afghanistan War, it’s easy to forget just how revolutionary the screenplay for The Hurt Locker was- and to a great extent, still is. It’s a riveting thriller about the day-to-day life of a bomb disposal squad, and the clever but reckless leader in charge.

That being said, it doesn’t do a great job in its portrayal of the Iraqis beyond keeping them as the “Other” or the enemy. It doesn’t help when this is the first line of the script:

Firstly, Mr. Mark Boal, there is no such thing as an “Arabic man”. There can be “An Arab yelling,” or better, “A man yelling in Arabic.” How would it feel if I opened my script writing, “An English American yelling over a bull-horn”? Pretty weird, no?

Secondly, Mr. Boal, for a story as original as yours, I have to ding points because you succumbed to the stereotype of inserting a “call to prayer” moment to remind us that we are somewhere in the Middle East. It’s lazy.

I’m going to stop myself now before I end up in a discourse about the Bush administration instead of the screenplay.

Apart from its two aforementioned slipups, The Hurt Locker still stands out from most other war stories because it’s not about American soldiers returning to the United States and dealing with their trauma—they do get put through the wringer, but the only time the story shifts to the US is for three pages towards the finale; the rest of it is set entirely in Iraq. No, it stands out because it deals with an uncomfortable realization that few would want to admit: War, for some people, is a thrill. The quote that opens the screenplay, and the comparison of war to a drug, clarifies that for the next 119 pages, we’re about to experience the war through the eyes of an addict seeking greater rushes at the expense of his safety— and those he’s in command of.

The setup takes us into the field with the bomb squad Bravo Company, to show how dangerous their work is. We are introduced to Sergeant J.T. Sanborn and Specialist Owen Eldrige, the two supporting characters, before we meet Sergeant First Class William James on page 16. James has taken over the squad for the remaining 38 days after the previous squad leader, Sergeant First Class Matt Thompson, was killed on page 14. The objective for the men of Bravo Company is simple: Stay alive for the next 38 days. Obstacle: James.

Since the nature of their work is deactivating bombs, Boal’s screenplay accordingly is structured around the disarming of three bombs (excluding the one in the setup)- one for each Act. In between, there are three action scenes that aren’t connected to bomb disposal. This keeps the script from sinking into repetitiveness while highlighting how these men need to know about more than just cutting a bomb wire. The bomb disarmament scenes serve to highlight James’ prowess, recklessness— and ultimately, his failure.

The first test for James comes at the end of Act 1, when he thinks he’s removed the blasting cap from the bomb, only to discover he’s surrounded by four Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs)- a daisy-chain- and needs to quickly render them useless before the bomber gets within range to press the detonator.

The second test- now in Act 2- involves disarming an entire trunkful of explosives in a Sedan. His recklessness results in Sanborn punching his superior officer over his actions.

The third and final test serves as the script’s Climax- a suicide vest on an innocent civilian that James is unable to disarm on time.

Three bombs. Four, if you include the opening. That’s a good way to think about how many action sequences to insert into your screenplay.

Then there are the three not-so-bomb related sequences within Act 2.

The first is a deadly shootout with a sniper in the middle of the desert between pages 58-71 that, in addition to being tense, allows James to shine as a leader who shakes Eldridge out of his despair when he can’t clean the bullets…

… and showing that, when he isn’t reckless, he is a good team member to have on your side.

The second is the grisly discovery of a body bomb, in which someone places the bomb inside the corpse of a boy that James mistakenly thinks is a kid (called Beckham) whom he had a soft spot for (pages 79-88) that gets another soldier, Lt. Col. John Cambridge, blown to smithereens.

The third one is investigating a bomb site in the Green Zone, except instead of any bomb disposal, James uses it to get revenge on the insurgents he thinks killed Beckham, but it only gets Eldridge shot in the leg and pushes James to a low point (pages 94-101), especially when he later discovers that the boy, Beckham, is alive. This is the end of Act 2.

Variety is not the only reason for such a structure. If you examine The Hurt Locker screenplay structure closely, you’ll notice that the bomb disarmament scenes are the A-plot— they’re about pitting James versus ingenious bombers. The other scenes are the B-plot that focus on the relationships between James, Sanborn, and Eldridge. The non-bomb action sequences are ways to forge bonds with these men through the danger of battle.

To recap: If you’re writing a screenplay with any action scenes, use three ‘smaller’ action scenes for the B-plot that serve the emotional sides of the characters.

Another thing that sets The Hurt Locker apart is its protagonist. William James is a thrill addict— the war zone is where he has become most comfortable; so much so that despite being able to go home, in the end, he signs up for another tour of duty, for a whole year. In these kinds of stories, most lead characters aren’t depicted as being “addicted” to war— it’d make audiences uncomfortable. But it’s also a subtle condemnation of the Iraq War, where the reader realizes that James is the way he is because his country invaded the country in retaliation for 9/11— even though Iraq had nothing to do with it! (What, you thought the United States would invade the real culprit, Saudi Arabia, when there’s so much oil at stake?!)

The other two important characters are Sanborn and Eldridge. Sanborn is the straight man— the voice of reason. Eldridge is affected by trauma and PTSD but it’s not something he is comfortable talking about with the college-origin deskbound Cambridge who is keen to help him, nevertheless.

These characters and these events are not written in a way that is cliched; that’s the screenplay’s strength. Boal, who worked with director Kathryn Bigelow to shape the narrative, strives to find the truth and authenticity in each scene. The story for The Hurt Locker emerged from the two weeks he spent as a freelance journalist in 2004 when he was embedded with a U.S. Army EOD team. The short time was enough to help him capture the gritty experience of being on the ground in a way that doesn’t feel like propaganda or a jingoistic swashbuckler (though it does have a tinge of jingoism). The script is as taut as a bomb wire, and as brutal as the war it depicts.

There’s a reason why The Hurt Locker is the only screenplay about the Iraq War on the WGA’s list of Great Screenplays of the 21st Century: it’s the only one that isn’t melodramatic. It’s visceral. I’m willing to overlook its shortcomings because it’s unlike most war stories out there, one that foregoes traditional story arcs in which the fate of a war hinges on what happens here. This is about a small unit of people who are just trying to do their jobs without getting blown up. Originality is rare; so is The Hurt Locker.