Away from the central action this is not an impressive war, the interception of incoming rockets–silvery elliptical explosions seen through the clouds–reminding the viewer, at best, of the closing sequences of This Island Earth: special effects put together long ago by a team not of the first rank. Missiles that get through make a hole no bigger than a V-weapon made in the East End of London in WW2; far fewer of them have fallen. Meanwhile the corporate-class civilians video themselves in gas masks in their sealed sub-basement, footage they will later edit & label: “How we spent the war. The little boy was so frightened.” Of what ? The awful events they had explained to him ? Their panic at the things that might almost be happening ? He could have had very little direct evidence. It’s all a bit histrionic, a bit unstoic, after such an inaccurate bombardment, so few deaths. On the other side, meanwhile, we see the civilians walking about almost cockily while the smart weapons, each one guided by a small part of the cloned neural tissue of a pigeon, moan & fizz down the line of the main street above them, en route to their very exact targets.