THE PROMISE. Genuinely Manages to Surprise

I approached Terry George’s The Promise with considerable curiosity. While World War II remains one of cinema’s most frequently revisited subjects, films dealing with World War I are comparatively rare. The presence of Christian Bale in the cast further suggested that this would be something above average. Add to that the film’s absurdly high budget and the outrage it sparked in Turkey—an uproar that lent George’s work a distinctly political dimension—and expectations were understandably high. After watching it, I still consider The Promise a very interesting film, even though I have plenty of reservations about it.

The filmmakers chose to tackle one of the greatest acts of genocide in history—one that for decades went unnamed and unresolved. Set in the Ottoman Empire shortly after the outbreak of World War I, the film follows Mikael (Oscar Isaac), an Armenian who arrives in Constantinople to study medicine, leaving his fiancée behind in his home village. In the city, Mikael forms friendships, falls in love, and immerses himself in urban life. This brief idyll is shattered by politics: the systematic extermination of Armenians begins, upending the lives of Mikael and everyone connected to him.

These events are partly observed through the eyes of journalist Chris Myers (Christian Bale), the husband of Ana Khesarian (Charlotte Le Bon), who is mutually in love with Mikael. It is through Myers’ reporting that the world learns of the unfolding tragedy in the Ottoman Empire.

Structurally, The Promise relies on familiar, almost timeworn narrative patterns. Like many films dealing with ethnic, religious, or national purges—Poland’s Volhynia comes to mind—it first depicts peaceful coexistence between different communities, only to follow it with catastrophe, where human behavior collapses into brutality. George’s approach, however, differs slightly from that of many contemporary films on similar subjects. Graphic violence is kept to a minimum; instead, emphasis is placed on landscapes, costumes, period details, and a warm, vivid color palette.

The film is shot in a style strongly reminiscent of 1970s cinema. At times, it genuinely feels as though Paul Newman or Charlton Heston might suddenly appear on screen—and I mean that as a compliment. The Promise does not feel dated or dusty; it is crafted with taste and restraint, dynamic and engaging, and generally avoids dragging—perhaps with the exception of its overly idyllic opening stretch.

One of the film’s greatest strengths is Bale. As expected, he dominates the screen, even though Chris Myers is technically a supporting character. That said, while Bale’s performance is excellent, the character himself is written with excessive moral purity. Even when drunk and venting his frustrations, Myers shines against the surrounding scoundrels like a polished diamond. When his wife falls in love with the protagonist, he rises above the situation, limiting himself to a few bitter remarks toward Mikael. This moral perfection strips the character of realism, despite the faultless acting. It’s a missed opportunity.

Throughout the film, George shows a tendency toward stark moral contrasts. We get evil Turks and virtuous, persecuted Armenians; the flawless Myers; the courageous Mikael, unwilling to pull the trigger even after his family is slaughtered; and the thoroughly villainous Ismet Ogan (Stewart Scudamore), who somehow manages to father and raise one of the film’s two “good” Turkish characters, Emre Ogan (Marwan Kenzari). The film’s pathos, bias, and inclination toward moralizing can at times be grating.

I was genuinely pleased to see Angela Sarafyan on screen, even though her role is marginal (Maral, Mikael’s wife). Still, she leaves a clear impression. I’ve always appreciated Sarafyan for her distinctive beauty and screen presence, and it was refreshing to see her appear in more ambitious projects like The Promise and Westworld after years of roles in uneven productions such as Twilight or The Immigrant.

When it came time to rate The Promise, I hesitated between a six and a seven. Ultimately, the ending tipped the scale. The filmmakers genuinely managed to surprise me. How? Well—that’s best discovered firsthand. One thing is certain: watching Terry George’s film is not a waste of time.

Written by Michal Bleja