I’ve never quite heard a laugh like Efraim Diveroli’s: a mix between a whinnying horse and a large metal door in need of some grease. It’s a performative laugh, forced out not chuckled, and the initial reaction is one of annoyance. But over time it grows on you. When you hear it, it means you did well, and you are in on something that’s about to be big. More and more you’ll do whatever it takes to encourage another one of these high-pitched tones of glee.



As portrayed by Jonah Hill in Todd Phillips’ dark arms-dealing comedy War Dogs, Diveroli is a massive force of nature – a living version of the giant boulder that tries to kill Indiana Jones, but wearing a chai necklace. Enormous in size, yet with a cherub’s face, Diveroli will smash through any obstacle to get his way. As a bootstrapping businessman, getting his way frequently means a charm offensive. It is to Hill’s amazing credit (and, since this is “based on a true story,” probably to Diveroli’s as well) that watching this loathsome person is so addictive. There could be no worse human being than one who doesn’t blink for an instant at the idea of profiting off someone else’s horror. Yet these people exist and I can’t imagine there being a better evocation of such a creature than Hill’s in this film.

Which is not to say this movie isn’t deeply flawed. Todd Phillips, an extraordinary underground documentarian who later hit paydirt with the nasty Hangover series, is all over the place with this one. Using voiceover narration, chapter breaks and steamrolling the soundtrack with classic rock needle-drops, Phillips throws every spice on the rack into this stew. If nothing else, this panicky post-production style evokes the coke-fuelled business model of Diveroli’s fly-by-night operation, in which a combination of smoke, mirrors and looking before you leap leads to multimillion dollar deals with the Pentagon.

There’s a plural in the title, and the second war dog is the slightly more conscientious David Packouz (Miles Teller). He at least takes a moment to rationalise to himself (and lie to his wife) that there’s nothing wrong with what these twentysomething jokers are up to. The punchline, of course, is that for much of the movie everything actually is on the up-and-up. War Dogs does a good job explaining how two low-level schnooks willing to scrounge for government crumbs could do very well moving small shipments of weapons from god-knows-where to Iraq in 2005 and 2006. Naturally, Diveroli’s rush to squeeze every dime out of a deal is the company’s eventual downfall. Not even the warning of the enormous Scarface mural in the office can prevent this from happening.

War Dogs emerges from a similar dark place as The Wolf of Wall Street and The Big Short, but its howl from the abyss is muted by the film’s distrust in its own material. Larger set pieces try to propel the audience with slow motion and music cues, but feel like temporary placards that say “insert big movie moment here.” Case in point: our heroes are about to meet their doom on the road from Amman to Baghdad until some US choppers appear. Creedence Clearwater Revival kicks in, but it’s almost as if the movie is joking about itself. You can practically hear Diveroli telling the story later over drinks: “When the helicopters showed up, you could imagine CCR on the soundtrack, bro!” Alas, I don’t think War Dogs is so brilliant as to be so meta. It’s just one of a number of poor choices that pull you out of the film.

Terrifying and hilarious … Bradley Cooper. Photograph: AP

But as Diveroli and Packouz first found fortune in the small, overlooked bids, there are a number of sharply observed moments that end up making this film something of a success. Bradley Cooper as a shady veteran arms trader who may or may not be a terrorist is terrifying and hilarious, as is Kevin Pollak as a silent partner too high on his own righteousness for doing right by Israel he doesn’t recognise he’s getting screwed.

As a Jewish-American who once witnessed his grandfather turn a car around to return to a store when he realised he received too much in change from a cashier, the stereotypes of money-grubbing members of the Hebraic faith in this movie make me despair. But then, the funniest part of the movie is when Hill, barreling through Packouz’ apartment exuding every antisemitic trope imaginable, dismisses someone he doesn’t like as “that Jew”. I hope Phillips is making a large contribution to the ADL this year to balance out his footprint.

While much of the comedy works, the eventual burnout of the partnership is a bit of a bore. But the nitty gritty of moving materiel is far more fascinating than you might think. Especially when so much of it is based on conning government agencies either too busy or too stupid to stop and look at what’s in front of them. One is left with the assurance that, despite an eventual scandal, no substantial changes have been made where it matters.