Genuine verisimilitude in the depiction of 20th Century warfare (such as Stanley Kubrick‘s depiction of WWI trench warfare in Paths of Glory) is out the window these days. I despise this state of affairs but I accept it. All 21st Century action-conflict movies are more or less expected to (a) somehow out-perform the last similar action-conflict movie in terms of outrageous grandeur or explosions or audacious visual effects and (b) have to deliver X-treme action scenes that defy basic physics and blow your socks off. I don’t know how David Ayer‘s Fury (Columbia, 11.14) will actually play, but I’ll be flabbergasted if it doesn’t follow these mandates.

Official synopsis: “Fury is set at the very end of World War II, in April 1945. As the Allies make their final push in the European Theater, a battle-hardened army sergeant named Wardaddy (Brad Pitt) commands a Sherman tank and her five-man crew on a deadly mission behind enemy lines. Outnumbered and outgunned, Wardaddy and his men face overwhelming odds in their heroic attempts to strike at the heart of Nazi Germany.”

Wells to Ayer: Germany was finished in April 1945. Hitler was hiding in his bunker, Patton’s Third Army was approaching Berlin from the west, Russian troops were advancing from the east. Who needs six guys in a Sherman tank to strike at the heart of Nazi Germany when it’s all over but the shouting? Keep your weapons loaded and stay alert but…you know, don’t get yourself iced at this stage when we’ve more or less won, man.