Oshii’s relaxed and patient direction is almost deceitful, depicting the repetitive events of the pilots’ lives as politically essential yet personally inconsequential. Much of the film is built upon pondering that goes nowhere, accompanied by some of the most vocal silent sequences I’ve ever seen on film. The atmosphere exudes an odd sensation, particularly during the pilots’ conversations that feel unusually inhuman and devoid of life. On the other hand, the dogfights, all magnificently choreographed with impeccable use of CGI, are when the pilots seem truly alive, as if their only purpose is to kill or be killed. The mastery of the writing is, however,fully realized only in the fourth quarter of the film after a major revelation completely switches the gears of the story. A surge of answers suddenly presents itself to us, almost in tandem with the lead, congruously rewarding the viewer based on how attentive they were towards minor details throughout the runtime. The Sky Crawlers reevaluates the association of peace and war and is especially frightening as the alternate solution it depicts is unsettlingly in line with the human thought process.