I entered the empty theater in Brooklyn very much wanting to like Alex Garland’s Civil War. It was one of the last days my neighborhood theater was going to play the film and I wanted to make sure I saw it; the mere fact that it wasn’t based on any prior intellectual property intrigued me. The reviews were solid. The trailer was compelling. Ticket sales had been unexpectedly robust, as blue and red audiences alike flocked to a film with a premise that seemed to confirm all of their worst suspicions: the United States is cracking up for good.
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