Brad Pitt, Logan Lerman, Michael Peña, and Shia LaBeouf star in David Ayer's "Fury."

Good war movies are hard to come by these days. So many films have already explored fascinating plots and themes within the genre, not leaving much room for originality and flare. So what’s left for the genre today? In “Fury,” David Ayer has clearly contemplated this dilemma, finding the perfect individual ingredients for success. Brad Pitt returns in a similar role to his Nazi-slaying badass from “Inglorious Basterds” to lead a tank full of more names we know and love, including Jon Bernthal from “The Walking Dead,” Logan Lerman, and Shia LaBeouf. And yet, the mixture leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth.

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So why did this happen? For one, “Fury” tackles complex themes without the script to effectively analyze them. From what we can pick up from the scattered and forced moments of meaning, Ayer seems to observe the questionable justifications for losing one’s humanity in war. Ultimately, he concludes that comrades accept their violent roles because they all bear the same moral burden of war and can only survive by relying and trusting each other. It’s a good point and a fascinating topic. But in this day and age, now that original war plots and twists have arguably dried up, movies have to have a developed script to back those ideas up and to be able to say unoriginal things in a fresh, new way. “Fury” does not have that. Instead, it relies on scattered, trailer-friendly one-liners that lack any development but draw in the crowds. Of course, hearing Pitt declare, “Ideals are peaceful. History is violent,” hits a sweet spot, but it can’t support the movie all on its own.

With such an all-star cast, these isolated quotes disrespect the dramatic potential that the movie could have possessed had the actors had the opportunity to work with a better script. Especially for Logan Lerman, who showed so much promise in “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” this looked to be a big step in his career; it was, but in the wrong direction. His character, Norman, starts off an innocent, clumsy youngster terrified of his new responsibilities as a soldier. However, after a series of tragedies, Norman suddenly transforms into an always angry, always angsty teen—perhaps a forced manifestation of “fury.” Now that he’s earned their respect simply by killing a Nazi or two, the tank appropriately nicknames him “The Machine,” and from then on, that’s essentially all Norman is: a human jukebox that’s stuck on the classic broken record of “FUCK YOU” with the bonus track, “UGH.” And just like that, what could have been promising, scripted character development melted into the two-step trajectory of sad Norman to angry Norman.

Ayer’s inattentive direction and script come at their highest cost in his ambitious portrayal of the American relationship with German natives. After a successful battle, Norman and Wardaddy (Pitt) bust through the door of two German women’s home. Instead of shooting them, Pitt comforts them in perfect German and offers them eggs as a gift. Norman quickly bonds with one of the women over music, prompting Pitt to tell him, “If you don’t take her to the bedroom, I will.” So, after a short, obvious scene of the two connecting over the similarities in their palms, they do their business and come back out to a traditional Sunday morning breakfast table, with Pitt reading the paper with coffee while the other woman cooks up some eggs. Ayer eventually juxtaposes their supposed respect for these women with the barbaric disrespect that Bernthal’s character shows them (which, just like the eggs on the table, is overdone), but the scene still paints these women in two shades: their nationality and their gender. The only thing that gives Norman’s companion any individuality is that Ayer is kind enough to at least give her a name, Emma. Thanks to the underdevelopment of the script, the scene that clearly was supposed to capture the conflict of humanity in wartime instead created a remarkably misogynistic, objectifying tone for the movie.

A few aspects of “Fury” do work out. With the exception of the last, drawn out fight scene, the battle cinematography is refreshing and creative through its short, unpredictable shots. The plot itself has a clear trajectory and captures the necessity for comrades to trust each other and work together, especially when confronted with the unclear morality of war. But Ayer’s stunted script jeopardizes the success of so many other factors, including the numerous opportunities for character development and the possibility for a new interpretation of old themes. As far as profit goes, the one-liners and cast might draw in viewers, but Logan Lerman’s screaming isn’t enough to hold the viewer’s attention, let alone create an original product.

—Contributing writer Benjamin P. Cashin can be reached at bcashin@college.harvard.edu.