At a time when a vital public good like the U.S. Postal Service could be privatized, a film about going above and beyond to deliver mail ought to hit different(ly). Unfortunately, The Six Triple Eight hits the same as most sentimental dramas that treat war as a postcard. A story about an underestimated battalion delivering long-delayed mail to soldiers on the front lines, it's a decent watch with some intriguing historical tidbits about the United States' only World War II Army Corps made up predominantly of Black women: the 6888th Central Postal Directory Battalion. However, when it comes to material requiring a deft dramatic hand, writer/director Tyler Perry rarely answers the call of duty.
This Netflix original also is (or rather, should be) a film about just how the the 6888th managed such a gargantuan achievement, but it seldom finds a balance between the "what" and the "how" of its own subject matter. If The Six Triple Eight excels — and it seldom does — it's because of the movie's cast, who do their best to bring a sense of lived reality to the proceedings, if only to craft a lukewarm, passive experience for a couple of hours. You could throw on in the background this Christmas without too much fuss, though the women on screen might deserve better.
That little of The Six Triple Eight unfolds on the front lines is a mercy. Its opening prologue, however, does, making war seem like a hoot, with cartoonish explosions right out of a Quentin Tarantino film, or the Italian war and Western movies that inspired him. Alas, pure entertainment is the last thing on Perry's mind in this scene (ironically set in Italy in 1943), which culminates in a pilot being shot down, and a bloody letter being retrieved from his pocket.
The earnest drama then flashes back a year prior, to the blossoming Pennsylvania romance between young Black teenager Lena (Ebony Obsidian) and her white, Jewish boyfriend Abram (Gregg Sulkin), an interracial pair whose free-spirited frolic is looked upon with derision. Their broad, soap-opera dialogue suits the warm tones of this flashback setting, though this in turn steeps the film in a bizarre (if unintended) wistfulness. The opening text touts it as being based on the recollections of still-living battalion members, and this bright palette fits awkwardly with the many reminders of Jim Crow laws and socioeconomic segregation. Lena, for instance, works as a server at Abrams' going-away party before he's to be shipped out, and he asks her to wait for his return.
However, news of Abram's demise months later hits her like a freight train, and propels her to enlist. The film never quite loses its nostalgic glow, even in moments the camera gazes upon with disgust, like when white soldiers openly admonish Lena and her fellow Black female cadets. The group she spends time with are a lively bunch, but it isn't until we meet their commanding officer, Major Charity Adams (Kerry Washington), that The Six Triple Eight gains a sense of weight and occasion, en route to its tale of their corps being tasked with sorting through a 10-month backlog of mail in Scotland.
The variety of personalities in the movie's ensemble makes it mostly watchable. Obsidian, for instance, shows great care in her approach to Lena, whose grief prevents her from accepting the advances of a handsome soldier (Jay Reeves) or diving headfirst into the banter and camaraderie of her makeshift friend group. Among them are the voluptuous, foul-mouthed Southerner Johnnie Mae (Shanice Shantay) and the uptight preacher's daughter Elaine (Pepi Sonuga), whose friction is amusing. Meanwhile, mixed-race cadet Dolores (Sarah Jeffery) becomes a headstrong standout, for the kind support she offers. However, no matter how committed the cast is to their interpersonal dynamics, the writing seldom affords most of them the chance to expand beyond the broad archetypes with which they're saddled. In the process, they feel cordoned off from the movie's larger drama, and from the time period itself — which is where Major Adams comes in.
As soon as Washington appears, she lights the screen ablaze with her poise and commitment. Immediately, she appears like the only actor who was allowed to explore the dramatic boundaries of The Six Triple Eight. It's a war film first and foremost, and while Adams' battalion never sees action, the character is locked in battle with larger forces from the moment we first glimpse her. It's a wonder the film wasn't entirely about Adams, whose story involves the delicate tightrope walk between holding back her anger towards white superiors who dismiss her and paving a path for women like herself to be treated as equals.
The task of sorting through tens of thousands of letters (both to and from homesick infantrymen) comes her way as a challenge, courtesy of a side plot in which big-name actors show up for a scene or two. The movers of history, like President Franklin Roosevelt (Sam Waterston), First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt (Susan Sarandon), and her friend and Black Cabinet leader Mary McLeod Bethune (Oprah Winfrey) have minutes of what feels like purely nominal screen time, as their characters set the wheels for the 6888th in motion. Their relatively minor roles help create the sense that these heavy hitters of the screen are ceding space for the younger cast.
Of course, a story about racism would be incomplete without its racists, and Breaking Bad's Dean Norris makes for an especially detestable presence as General Halt, whose de facto purpose is throwing wrenches in Adams' operation. The movie never needs to offer an explanation for his actions, since the bitter indignance with which Norris carries Halt speaks for itself.
Unfortunately, an aspect of its story the film could've been more overt about is its actual plot mechanics, i.e. the immense logistical operation the 6888th had to undertake.
What makes a challenge cinematically interesting is seeing how it's overcome. The Six Triple Eight is primed for the kind of observations and montages that make films about complex undertakings — heists, journalism, or the inventing of Facebook — such a sensory delight. The film's leading women are quick to improve the material conditions with which they're saddled, via a slick montage of them cleaning and fixing up a bombed shelter as soon as they arrive in Europe. However, the same approach is rarely applied to them decoding, sorting through, and delivering letters to keep up morale.
Several scenes and dialogue exchanges stress the importance of their task, from mothers and other relatives back home awaiting long-delayed communication, to Lena herself lamenting how little she heard from Abram while he was deployed. In fact, the film's central thesis on racist mistreatment boils down to how well (and how ingeniously) the women of 6888th can overcome the particular challenges of tracking down mail recipients from smudged addresses, or even clues as minor as fabric threads in family care packages. Whether or not they're capable of connecting loved ones becomes intrinsically tied to proving their worth.
Unfortunately, they seem to solve these problems largely off-screen. Most of their methods don't even come to light until after they've been implemented and are being shown off to their white inspecting officers. It's nominally validating that they can prove naysayers wrong, but the joy of seeing how they do is robbed from the audience. Perry, though he seems to understand the strife his characters face, isn't as interested in cinematic pleasures as he is in gestures toward conquering bigotry and adversity.
For instance, when Adams first reacts to the monumental piles of letters, stored in a hangar, that she and her troupe will have to sort through, the camera rightly stays affixed to her shocked expression. But the film never actually cuts to what she's looking at. It never affords the viewer the chance to experience Washington's gradual realization about the immensity of the mission before her. Even in a film about the eponymous squad, Perry keeps us at a distance from the rigors of their duties.
This is, by and large, the movie's approach to all drama. It renders its audience as mere observers, rather than participants in its story. Despite the tremendous efforts of its cast, it leaves us to look upon the 6888th as artifacts of history, rather than real flesh-and-blood people with enormous hurdles thrown in their paths.
