What is it with me and war? And on a grander scale, what is it with me and history? For some reason I can't get enough of it. And when one studies history, the overwhelming subject matter is war. And sadly this turns people off. They cringe when I say my favorite subject is history, and sometimes this is countered with the comment that history is depressing, boring, and a couple other unappealing adjectives.
This has always been something I can understand, but then again refuse to accept. Yes, war is depressing, history is too. But definitely not all of it. And I am not going to end the argument with that as my thesis. Most could care less that these people in history loved, lived, laughed, cried and were human just like us. It still does not take away the fact that in the end, they all die. And not in the most peaceful ways possible. And I can understand this rational. It is logical and makes some sense, but only on a very superficial view. In my opinion it is the epitome of the phrase: Ignorance is bliss.
And maybe ignorance and its bliss is good for some or most, but not me. I refuse to shrug it off and leave it there.
In this 'pursuit', as it may be called, I have taken an armchair scholar-like position to it. I have never fully immersed myself in it, only a bit here and there while I learn other things in other fields. But this does not stop me from thinking deep in the times I do decide to put thought into this study. Pondering the nature of evil is no light matter.
One way to start is with the wars. World War I is a sketchy place to tread. I will admit, most of what I know about WWI comes from what I studied in my senior year of high school about it, and a little in the sophomore year about the Russian Revolution. It is a very touchy subject WWI. That is why in a twisted way its sequel, WWII, is somewhat of a relief when trying to study right from wrong, good and evil and many things like that. When we look at this war today, it is clear division of good and bad. There were the bad guys and the good and there were the noble causes to fight for.
But this still does not hide the fact that WWII study cannot ignore in any sense: that it was the deadliest swath of destruction that human beings have ever wrought on each other. 45 million killed, 30 million of those being civilians. An entire library can be built out of the stories of battles and of torture and of holocaust. And when I think about it, I know that I have not even touched the surface and am hardly knowledgeable about it as many more are. But I still try.
When it comes to scholastic education, the list is mildly impressive. A 30 page packet about Auschwits and the book Night by Elie Weisel during my freshman year in high school. In my sophomore year, we did hardly any study of WWII that was reserved for senior year. But we did study the Mongols of the 13th century, Tamerlane and his pyramids of skulls, bits of the Cultural Revolution, and a lot about the Russian Revolution. Junior year was spent studying everything about American history (as in North and South America) but the two World Wars; they were once again reserved for senior year. What little study that did come of it came from the history book I had taken with me to Japan during the three months I was there as an exchange student (I still had to do work for home the school at home.) I didn't have to read it, but I read the chapter about WWII, save for the last two pages, one day in class in Japan when I was bored. It went on for 20 pages and talked about women's equality in America during the war and race relations and everything but the war itself. That part was reserved for last two or three pages titled, "The war of the generals" almost as if it was a side note. Ironically, the most WWII study I got at school that year came from Japanese class where we watched a CBS video about Pearl Harbor and also read Hiroshima by John Hersey. The subject of Pearl Harbor was also brought up in class in Japan once, and the people were very at ease about it. And then it dawned on me; these kids were 35 years unborn when Pearl Harbor happened. Senior year we finally dove into the World Wars. We watched a long show about WWI that was done really well. We were tested on it and then moved into the next stage. The rise of Nazism, Fascism, Japan's push into Asia, and so on. And the war itself. But we pretty much got stuck on the first half, watching films like Tora Tora Tora and Swing Kids and a film about Stalin. Now that I think about it, that was the best history class that I have had.
And so you could say I had learned a lot from school, and hopefully there was more from outside of school. I would watch shows about WWII and D-Day and all that stuff of the Discovery Channel. I read King Rat by James Clavell. And watched a lot of episodes of Wings on the Discovery Channel as well. At this time I knew that a lot of people could care less about this stuff. It was too depressing and all that. But I also felt that people should know. I imagined if I could make a film about these events in a documentary-like format, how I would do it to keep people interested, yet thinking at the same time, and remembering. But in the end it is just a dream.
Meanwhile there is still the question, why do people shrug it off? The comments that it is all about killing, too depressing, and just plain boring bother me. I guess I can see their point, but I never felt that way. And now that I think about it, I believe it is the opposite for me.
I remember last year watching a show where a man who was a survivor of the holocaust was retelling what he experienced as the music from Shindler's List played and images of the concentration camps were shown. I watched, and I tried to grasp it. But the other people in the room either wanted me to change the channel, or I believe a comment along the line, "I can't watch this right now." came up. And along the same line, I can't even remember when I started watching the nightly news, but I know that I have been watching it for almost all my life. And I have always found the excuse that the news is too depressing one that doesn't work for me.
And so here I am, reading about wars, watching the nightly news and pondering such things as the holocaust yet I am seemingly always in a good mood. Ask any of my friends and they will say I am never in a slump or angry. Always in a state of bliss it seems. But I believe it is the absolute opposite of ignorant bliss.
Richard Nixon's resignation comment about those who have been in the deepest, darkest valley are the ones who can truly know how it feels to be atop the highest mountain is true to the bone. Now I am not going to go say that I have had been in dark valleys. On the contrary. By all accounts I am a spoiled middle-class American. And I am glad on that. But there is a different aspect.
To sidetrack back to academics once again, I am reminded of the one major lesson I remember from reading Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad my senior year. It had something to do about traveling into the heart of darkness in order to see truly the brightness of light. Basically an academic defense of what Richard Nixon said. And about what I am trying to say.
In one of the darkest places I have ever taken myself in this subject was with the reading of the book The Rape of Nanking by Iris Chang in the early summer of 1998. I have heard some bad things about the presentation of this book, but in the end, I blame it on poor editing skills. It is what the book tells that gave me something I will never be able to shake. The Rape of Nanking recounts the history of the Japanese invasion of Eastern China in the winter of 1937-38 in the then capital of China, Nanking. Within six weeks of the invasion, the city of 600,000 was reduced to less than 300,000 mostly by murder, torture, rape and what we would term today as ethnic cleansing. Scholars today believe that the estimate lies anywhere from 260,000-340,000 people in and around Nanking were killed, most of them civilians. The killings were brutal and almost unimaginable. This is something that I have read about that occurred in Europe during WWII, but this was the first book in English dedicated to this subject. The citizens of Nanking were viewed in the eyes of the Japanese soldiers as less than human, and not even animals, but more like insects. No dignity or respect in any way.
This still shakes me up today. There is the picture of a beheading in the book. The knowledge that this took place and a great number of people do not know about it. And my relationship with Japan (which is a page in itself, maybe I will get to it someday). To this day I try to think of emotions that it could have evoked, and I try to understand it.
What is the nature of evil? Is it forgivable? Is war ever justifiable? In the end I felt that evil needed to be fought. And I do not know if I am talking about a Satan or evil on such a Biblical level, but the evil that humans put on each other. An evil that plagues and dominates the pages of history, and with this century has only grown.
And then I say to myself that it is not all evil. The allied fight against Germany and Japan is viewed today as good versus evil. Hitler is viewed as one of the most evil people who has ever lived, if not the most. And it is a right thing to say. Because evil must be fought. Tyranny must be brought down by what means are necessary. Some people call this the moral imperative, the golden rule and many other things. Whatever it is, it is there.
In the end I have concluded that war is our enemy. War is what must be fought. And there lies the problem; the act of destroying war is a fight in itself. And so what better way then to take the lessons of war and use them. Sun Tsu, the great ancient Chinese scholar who wrote The Art of War says simply that in order to defeat one's enemy, one must understand it. And if war is our enemy, we must understand it, not shrug it off as depressing or disturbing and hope it never comes up again, but to truly defeat it through knowing it.
And this is where Saving Private Ryan comes in.
The weeks before Saving Private Ryan came out, the only thing people could say about it was how it was the most realistic war movie ever made. The Normandy invasion portrayed at the beginning would be like nothing else ever filmed. The battles would be the most realistic ever captured on film. As a person who loves movies and studies WWII for fun, I could not wait.
But then again I guess I could. For I waited about 3 weeks after the opening to go see it. But I did go see it, alone and sitting front row center of the balcony of the McDonald theatre. The McDonald theatre used to be a stage theatre but was converted some time ago into a movie house. A few years back it was renovated and spiffyed up. New speakers were put in, and it looked like a genuine picture palace. The one thing besides the balcony that sets it apart from the other theatres in town was that is had interesting acoustics. The walls were not insulated (still aren't) and would have a slight echo. And so I sat and waited.
The theatre was about half full, which is about 200 people. Pretty decent crowed for a matinee three weeks into showing. There was the usual slide show, and then the trailers, I forget them now. And then it started. It almost felt like that moment when you get on a roller coaster, knowing what will happen, but not really. And so I just sat back and watched.
It is interesting in a way what chokes me up or what gets me in a particular way in this film. As the film opens, we see the faded American flag with the sun behind it. I read about this in Time magazine, it is supposed to be full of symbolism. But the one thing that I notice is that it has 50 stars when the flag of WWII was with 48. You couldn't tell me that Spielberg got something like that wrong? Well, he didn't. The first part is in our time, 1998. More specifically it is an old man with his family at Normandy visiting the cemetery. This cemetery means a lot. It is used extensively in shows that look back on WWII, as it should be. And probably because I have seen images of it before, it really does not grip me as much as I hope it got the other people in the theatre. It was the image just before that was one of the four that got me in the film. It was the sight of the American flag flying over the cemetery, and then the French one. I don't know why, but the thought that it was a team effort to defeat evil really hit me. And so we have the man collapse at the grave and his family gets concerned. I am getting antsy. Everybody says that the first thirty minutes are incredible war images. Well, we are about two minutes into it, and there is no war. And then we get the flashback/look back.
There is the beach with the big metal things everywhere and the writing of "June 6, 1944". Here we go.
And relax, I am not going to do a scene-by-scene analysis of the film. What follows in the next thirty minutes can only be remembered through specific images and emotions.
There was the calm of the people on the boat. Tom Hank's character's nervous twitch, the guys vomiting, the eerie silence. It was almost hypnotic. And when the doors opened on the transports, I expected then to just run. What happened is in my opinion one of the most griping 3 seconds in motion picture history. In those three seconds, almost everyone dies. Two dozen lives gone in the snap of a finger. And this happened for a hundred miles down the beach. Suffice it to say it snapped me out of my hypnotic state.
And so we have the shouting, the guns blaring, the water splashing and all around chaos. Just the way it was intended to be shown. And during all of this, I noticed something about the theatre that was interesting. With the non-insulated walls of the theatre, the sounds of the bullets being fired and whizzing by had an added reality to then because the noise would slightly echo. Very eerie feeling.
And so this is the great war scene that everybody has gone nuts about. And would believe it. Two characters are talking to each other and the radio guy in front of them is shot and killed without a word and they go on talking! Everywhere lives are snapped away. But the one moment that bothered me is not the images that I saw. I was transfixed on them, trying to absorb them, maybe even understand them. The one moment that jerked me out of it was when the guy was hit in the helmet with the bullet and it bounced off his helmet, so he takes his helmet off to double-check and to thank his lucky stars, and gets the back of his head blown off. It shocked me to say the least. But what concerned me was that people in the theatre laughed. They laughed!
Was it just nerves crying out to be relieved, or did they actually find this guy getting his head blown off funny?
Whatever it was, it didn't happen often. I have a feeling that most people in the theatre were just as transfixed as I was. The only other moment that I can think of in that D-Day scene that concerned me was when the sniper hit the German for the first time. A man about three rows back shouted "Whoo Hoo!" when it happened. I don't know about him, but after seeing all that just happened, I could not bring myself to cheer any death, no matter what side it was.
And so we have the napalm attack, the shooting of the surrendered, and the end of the invasion, for these guys. I had survived the D-Day scene in Saving Private Ryan. I had finally seen it.
So the big question in my mind was where does the movie go from here? All I have heard about this film was of the D-Day invasion. Oh yeah, they have to save Private Ryan.
And so the movie goes on. There is a plot; a boy has to be saved. We have the image in America of the discovery that Ryan's three brothers have all died. And here comes moment number two. And to this I compliment Stephen Spielberg. When the car pulls up and we know that Private Ryan's mom is to receive the news of three of her sons being killed, we know it has to be a bad moment. I could tell the people in the theatre were feeling for even as the car was driving to the house. And here is where the movie does not beg our sympathy. We do not see Mother Ryan crying or shouting 'why?'. Instead all we get is her getting too weak to stand, and that is all we need.
Meanwhile back in Normandy, the guys who survived the invasion sit around waiting for the next thing to do. They chat, they banter, and they almost seem bored. And so, after a scene with George C. Marshal explaining how Ryan must be saved, we see Hanks running around getting his best men to do their duty. Hey, and then they get some guy to come along and speak German for them! (With a Bavarian accent, I always liked that touch.)
And there they go, walking, talking, all that stuff. I guess it is still a breather after the D-Day scene. And then they encounter a town, play commando, and try to save a girl, because it is the decent thing to do. "We are not here to do the decent thing, we are here to follow f***ing orders!" Sniper shot, man down. A very agonizing scene.
And when the German sniper is taken down, another moment happens in the theatre. It is not really a shout of glory, but of "holy cow! Did you see that?" kind of reaction to the bullet going through the scope.
Scene over after a bloodbath shootout. Weird thing was, in any other movie, this would have been talked about a lot, but it was almost a side note in this film. A Private Ryan comes up, but is could not be him, we are only an hour into the film. And it wasn't, ahh, a light moment. And then I notice Ted Danson is in the scene. Sorry, but I have to agree with other people that this distracted me. And I swear I could hear mumblings in the theatre.
The boys talk philosophy in the cathedral. It is another calm moment for us to sit and contemplate. "This Ryan fellow better invent the longer lasting lightbulb or something." He has a point. And off they go.
They march; they come along the paratroopers and the injured. Have a moment with the dogtags, and then find out that the Ryan guy still lives, and they are off.
And so comes more action. The taking of the radar tower. Translator guy looks from behind a dead cow, and the medic goes down. And so it is the German guy's fault. At first I thought they would kill him. They should. And then I reminded myself that it would be indecent of them. And they are not here to be decent, but they let him go.
And we learn who Hanks is, and we get some silly strife among the men. Maybe it can be justified through the stresses of war, but I found it a little drawn out.
And off they go. And finally they meet Ryan and gang after killing a few more people. Ryan gets the news, he learns of the sacrifice that they all went through to get him. And this scene did get me. But there is a bridge to defend, and here we go. Defense, planning, and then waiting.
Those ten minutes with the French music playing and the talking going on has a dreamlike quality to it for me. The echo, the lighting, and the lightness of it among the surroundings. And I guess it was for us to get to know the people better. Which can only mean one thing in movieland. They are going to die.
The tanks can be heard. It is an eerie sound in this theatre. And soon the battle begins. It never seems to end; the tanks keep on coming. People keep on coming and dying and coming again.
And even after seeing it twice, I still find it hard to assemble it all together in a chronological order, so I am forced to just serve memories.
The one thing that stuck with me the most about this scene was the lack of attention to death. And I knew that was the point. The man carrying the Sticky Bomb, blown up just like that. Was he a main character? Whoever he was, that was the last time he was mentioned.
And then there is the 20mm gun. As half a dozen Americans storm the German tank, out comes a 20mm gun and opens fire on them, and they all die. One in the foreground has his head blown off, and we only see it for a second, and never go back to them. These were main characters. I cannot recall a moment in a movie that got me like that part did.
It was at this point that I realized this was not going to even have decent, feel OK ending. I knew it would not have a happy ending, but now I knew this was a tragedy on the deepest end.
The clock tower is taken out. The man is stabbed, very slowly. I wonder how that would feel. Dammit! Why didn't the translator do something! But he was frozen. He was not made to fight.
They run across the bridge, the people that are left. Another is killed, Hanks shots the tank in a futile attempt to stop it. By this time I don't even care if he makes it, because I know that it is not the point. The point is not to root for the good guy to win. The point was to study why nobody does.
Then the tank explodes. What the hell? Ahh, it was a plane flying majestically overhead. I am suddenly reminded of my favorite scene in Empire of the Sun when the Mustang makes a grand entrance in that film as well. And so the translator shoots the German he cowered from earlier. I guess it is a right of passage, but a tough one to swallow. Not much glory in any death anymore.
And so the reality sinks in. "Earn it." And we go back to the Private Ryan of old. And he asks if his life was good. A logical question. I was thinking that all throughout the film. But how do you answer something like that? I don't know if you can. And we get the flag again, and the credits. And one of the most silent audiences I have ever seen.
And as I usually do, I sit through the credits. And I think. As usual all the people bolt out of the theatre, but in a melancholy way, silent.
And then I leave and I see the crowd waiting for the next showing. Do they have any idea what they are in for? Whatever they are thinking, I have to get home. To not deal with the hassle of parking downtown, I had myself dropped off, and I call to be picked up. And so my sister is on her way. And so for a half an hour, I sit, and just think.
I sit and think like this a lot, but rarely to I delve this into it. And today it is hard to remember all that I thought.
As Ebert said on his show, this is a pure anti-war film if there ever was one. And I would believe it. There was no glory in victory. There was no justification to cheer when a guy was killed. And yet I would not go all the way to say that it was futile and stupid to fight war. It was a necessity, and something that I could not shake.
On the ride home, I learned from my sister, who saw the film earlier; that the German guy that the translator shot was the same one they set free earlier. Was that saying that he should've been killed when they had the chance to do so? Whatever it was, it was an odd coincidence.
And so I go home, and I imagine my history. I listen to some powerful music and try to picture and event in history told through it. But now the majesty is gone. I don't care. There is no more pride in me in this imagining. And so I stop.
This feeling lasts for about a week. Unprecedented for a film and me. But after a while, I am able to get some of the spirit back. But now it has a new tint. I literally saw what I was studying and trying to understand in a different light. What I imagined now was what I saw before, but tacked with a reminder that it should never be made what it is not. It should never glorified for its own sake.
And so the weeks and months go by. The only other news I really get about this film is on a movie forum that I frequent and is to this day the only place on the internet that make a daily habit to visit and chat and post in. The people at this place range from mild fans like me, to people who work in the business, to downright fanatics. But the one thing we all have in common is that we like to watch movies and talk about them in a jovial manner when we want to, and seriously when it needs to be called.
And on many occasions, Saving Private Ryan comes up. Almost all of by early December believe it will win the Oscar. It has the box office, it has Spielberg, and it has the incredible impact. But I notice something else.
What I once thought was the immune movie is starting to show faults. People on the forum say that it was manipulative of our emotions. And even though the D-Day scene is the best war scene on film, other scenes were flawed. Someone brought up the argument that says a good movie has three great scenes and no bad ones and that Saving Private Ryan had three of both. And this was why it was hard to decide how to judge this film.
To some, the opening and the end 'bookend' scenes as they are called, were unnecessary and could have been done away with. The other complaint I heard was that Ted Danson was an unneeded distraction. And others complained about Matt Damon. As for me, I could not find anymore faults.
And in January, I saw the other big war movie of the year, The Thin Red Line, a movie that in no way deserves to be likened to Saving Private Ryan because in the end, they are completely different movies. And as I thought about it while I watched it, The Thin Red Line was a better film. And it really polarized a lot of people on the forum. Some saying it was a complete bore, others praising it. But that is another story. Maybe I will get to it someday.
And so it is Oscar nominee time, and despite Shakespeare In Love getting more nominations, we still believe, the majority of us, that Ryan, or SPR as we call it, will take the big one. And a lot of these people say so, even though they do not want to see it win. And so we wait.
And it looses.
Well, not entirely. Spielberg got the director Oscar. But in the end, there was a lot of backlash on the forum. Suddenly SPR was a good film again, even the best of the decade according to some. But in the end, I don't think that anybody saw Shakespeare In Love as the best of the year. A lot of us, including myself, were hoping Life is Beautiful would win. But we knew it was not going to happen. And to tell you the truth, I was also hoping The Thin Red Line would be recognized. And at this time, I had been meaning to see SPR again, to see what all the forumers saw that I did not. And I waited for weeks, and then a week after the Oscars, I decided to go and see it again in its re-release. To see what it was like again, to feel the feelings again, and maybe to see what was stuck in my mind that I could not flech out from last time. And so I did.