On the ground during 1971’s deadly Belfast riots, a British solider is separated from his unit in Yann Demange‘s strategically taut ’71. Proving that not all action thrillers need over-the-top set pieces or larger-than-life villains, ’71 is an exercise in tactful realism that bleeds intelligence and authenticity between harrowing sequences of true blue terrorism, askew nationalism and boundless tension. Demange’s gripping piece of historical fiction is served sizzling hot with its hero positioned in a constant state of explosiony danger, giving new life to the phrase “out of the fire and into the frying pan.”

After a failed attempt to back up police at a house search in the midst of one of the hottest of Belfast’s strategic positions, Gary Hook (Jack O’Connell) finds himself and a fellow soldier accidentally abandoned by their jumping-the-gun to hightail out of their squadron. When a mob man with a “you won’t like me when I’m angry” mentality executes his platoon mate with a point blank bye-bye to the skull, Hook dashes into the inner city labyrinth of these IRA-laded streets. His bearings are further disoriented when a small troop of militant civilians chase him down the streets in a haughty blaze of gunfire like he were a greased pig.

Trapped in the political and literal fog of Belfast’s thorny environs, a battered O’Connell is forced to make snap judgments about who he can and cannot put his life in the hands of. Since the wishy-washy politic atmosphere of ’71 give no clear definition to a “this” or “that” side, it’s impossible to predict when he’s in a spot or has found temporary solace. Perhaps the best example of this comes early in the second act when our shaken soldier hooks up with a loquacious youngster who offers to guide him back to the barracks. ’71 quickly becomes as much a mind game as it is an edge-of-your-seat actioner with O’Connell forced to play Russian Roulette with his trust. Were he to make the slightest miscalculation, a bullet would surely be lodge in his brain. As O’Connell’s proven in the past (specifically in Starred Up), he’s able to pull off such a feat with weighty brio.

In his more recent affairs, O’Connell has taken up this familiar mantle of war-victim, undergoing a series of psychological and physical trauma in Angelina Jolie’s dead-in-the-water biography, but his bewildered, almost puppy-dog performance here packs way more of a wallop than when he was taking a literal line of punches in Unbroken. Hook is like a scarred animal, jittery and balled up with very little agency in his own survival and his transformation into a victim of circumstance gives O’Connell a real psychological center to vie with.

On the other side of the fence are those people who continue to hunt Hook and, for my money, this is where the film suffers. Demange’s film exudes a modicum of vagueness by intent but those various characters seeking out Hook are nigh ill-defined. Amongst them are Sean Harris‘ Captain Sandy Browning and David Wilmot‘s Doyle, both of whom have something to gain in the capture of Hook – a hazy subplot that involves an IED and repositioning of power – but, again, I don’t think I could tell you specifically their intent without first looking it up. That alone hardly throttles the “make or break” cusp but it does keep ’71 a few notches shy of being truly excellent.

Exquisitely paced thanks to Chris Wyatt‘s smart editing of a bevy of hand-held shots and backed up a distressing sonic wave from David Holmes, ’71 stuffs haunting sequences and war-addled psychology into the frame while also managing to showcase the diverse strengths of O’Connell and director Demange. Nominated for nine awards at this year’s British Independent Film Awards, ’71 will likely go widely unnoticed in the US of A even though it has success written all over it.