Reviewed by Colin Jacobson (June 16, 2025)
In the eyes of filmmakers circa the early 2000s, it appeared that Africa became the new Vietnam. Since Hollywood beat the conflict in Southeast Asia to death and also seemed to have wrung much of the juice out of World War II, they needed new fodder, and this led to 2003’s Tears of the Sun.
Navy SEAL Lt. AK Waters (Bruce Willis) gets sent into revolutionary Nigeria to rescue physician Lena Kendricks (Monica Bellucci). Given orders from his commander (Tom Skerritt) to extract all “critical personnel”, Waters heads into the jungle to get Kendricks – an American by marriage – and some of her missionaries out of the country before rebels come knocking on her door and slaughter everyone in sight.
However, when Waters and his crew get to Kendricks’ jungle hospital, they find that she doesn’t want to leave without the Nigerians that she has been caring for at her mission. After a catastrophic slaughter, Waters helps the locals, a choice that leads to conflict.
Sign number one that Tears of the Sun offered a typically Hollywood take on its subject circa 2003: Bruce Willis. Ever since the original Die Hard in 1988, I liked Willis, as I thought he brought something different to the standard action hero.
However, Willis was not the actor you want if you desire a full-dimensional performance. That doesn’t mean Willis can’t deliver higher level work, but unless pushed, he tended to fall back on his usual glower and smirk.
Apparently director Antoine Fuqua didn’t challenge Willis, for the actor sticks with the tried and true. He displays little subtlety as he keeps Waters stalwart and stoic.
The movie wants us to believe Waters enjoys a character arc as he goes from playing the obedient soldier to standing up for what he thinks is right, but his path feels so utterly predictable that it doesn’t seem like anything changes. Willis scowls to convey the seriousness of the situation and does little more.
Sign number two: Monica Bellucci. I can suspend disbelief about any number of things, but even I find the presence of a young, hot female doctor in the middle of nowhere to be more than a slight stretch.
Is it possible that someone like her would be in a position like this? Sure, I suppose, but the concept remains unlikely. I don’t mean to imply that all medical workers in tough situations are unattractive, but the chances remain slim.
We find a babe like Bellucci for one reason alone: she’s hot, and she gives the movie some eye candy. It doesn’t hurt that the sexy doc conveniently wears her shirts unbuttoned halfway down her chest.
Hey, it’s hot in the jungle - gotta cool down somehow, right? Bellucci’s boobs play such a prominent role in the proceedings that they deserve a screen credit of their own.
Sign number three: Bruce Willis and Monica Bellucci. Take aging but still handsome Actor A, place him with young, sexy Actress B, and you have Trite Movie Romance Z. Sun makes their eventual connection absolutely inevitable.
Not only is there no reason to cast two attractive leads without romance in the end, but also the movie uses the conventional methods to tell us they’ll wind up snogging. The pair represent totally different personalities and they initially dislike and resent each other.
That’s the ultimate Hollywood shorthand for eventual romance. Granted, the movie keeps this affair understated and implied, but it’s there nonetheless.
Sign number four: with all the dramatic events that have occurred in Africa, the filmmakers prefer to offer fictional material. Black Hawk Down had its flaws, but at least it went with factual topics.
Sun takes the truth as inspiration but otherwise branches into made-up characters and issues. Why bother?
At best, this seems pointless, and at worst, it appears dishonest since many moviegoers will assume the flick comes from facts. With all the real-life events on which to base a flick, why waste our time with fiction?
Granted, one could argue the same about war tales like Apocalypse Now or Saving Private Ryan. Perhaps I see a difference simply because those movies were good while Sun is not. Besides, they had a point to make, whereas the goal of Sun appears fuzzier.
Sign number five: Like most movies about African conflicts, it prefers to focus on white people. This made more sense in Black Hawk Down due to the particular story it meant to tell, but here it doesn’t seem as logical.
The movie would work better if it dealt with the African issues and used the Americans as a sidebar rather than the opposite approach. Sun treats the Africans as props for its little morality tale, and they never emerge as anything more than stock characters.
The lack of subtlety really becomes a problem. During the opening, the film almost hints at nuances among the African leaders, as it implies the deposed - and soon assassinated - president has blood on his own hands.
However, these shades of gray quickly vanish and the film immediately becomes a tale of good versus evil with nothing between those extremes. This gets worse as it progresses, especially when we find a silly, soap operatic plot twist toward the end.
Actually, the film gets a little more interesting during its third act simply because it finally provides some combat. I won’t criticize Sun for its absence of action, or at least I wouldn’t slam it because I might have expected more war in this war flick. It doesn’t need to be Ryan and pummel us with bloodshed.
However, the lack of firepower becomes more noticeable due to the tedium of the rest of the story. The climax highlights this because the big ending battle really works well.
When director Fuqua stops trying to involve us in his bland characters and just lets the bullets fly, the film comes to life. But it’s too little, too late.
I wouldn’t call Tears of the Sun a terrible movie, for it lacks any elements that seem truly poor. The acting’s perfectly passable, and the story has some potential.
The film looks good and offers totally professional production values. Unfortunately, it rarely rises above mediocrity and embraces too many stock Hollywood techniques to become winning.
