Horses! Horses! Horses!
Basically, it’s a mess that’s never boring, but the director is Steven Spielberg and he gets to do whatever he wants like have WWI stop and both sides ignore their differences to save the war horse and then the owner of the horse – temporarily blind – does his special hand whistle to get the horse to come to him, and guess what? the British army parts like the red sea to let the horse come back to his man. A little bit later an old man who has lost everything – including all his money – shows up with a unexplained shit load of money; he’s traveled to England from Germany, and he buys the war horse in an auction because it meant everything to his deceased granddaughter. But then he gives it to the blind homo-erotic guy because, why not? it’s only all his money and the horse that his dead granddaughter loved. And that’s going to be the end of the movie, wait almost, there’s going to be a long shot of the horse with a pink sunset behind him. That’s not even good Spielberg. That’s bullshit.
Oh and it’s one of those movies that the whole time it felt like a book. It was adapted into a play, which my mother thought was magic. I told her, “Don’t see the movie.”