(out of 5)(out of 5)
How does one review a movie which is nothing short of brilliant when it comes to the technical aspects, but whose story and screenplay are too often sentimental, contrived and artificial? There are moments in the story that make me wish Steven Spielberg could be a little more honest with his audience. Especially those audiences that do see him as an honest filmmaker.
Clearly, there is no way to deny that Saving Private Ryan is an absolutely wonderful film and that it breaks the boundaries of the war film genre. This IS the most realistic war film ever. In many ways it's more realistic than newsreel footage. The old newsreels never showed us the blood, the horror, the gore of WWII. We didn't see a man struggling to get to a safe spot on the beach one minute, and lying dead on the beach with no face the next. Nor did we ever see a man who had lost his arm pick it up as if he might reattach it and continue to fight. Spielberg shows us these atrocities, up close and personal.
The story begins with the D-Day invasion of Omaha Beach. The sequence lasts nearly thirty minutes, but I am certain that it was not enough time to depict all the horrors of that battle. The Higgins boats approach the coast, the boys on board wait with nervous anticipation. Some vomit from a combination of both fear and seasickness. When the doors open for the soldiers to empty out onto the beach they are instantly mowed down by machine gun fire. Those who make it out of the boats alive must then get to the beach alive, after that they must reach the dunes for cover, after that they continue to find the next temporary safe spot. It is one of the greatest battle sequences ever put on film.
Spielberg could not have done this tremendous job himself, he had help from the best. Cinematographer Janusz Kaminski (Schindler's List) is masterful at handling the camera. He captures exactly what is needed in every battle and skirmish. His most accomplished feat is the final battle sequence. How he and Spielberg managed to choreograph this scene is something I will never know. Daniel Dorrance's art direction is exquisite, depicting the rubble that France had become. There is no question about it, Spielberg and his crew committed themselves to this movie, employing painstaking detail in every frame.
Tom Hanks, in what is possibly the best performance of his career, plays Capt. Miller, who is ordered to take a squad to locate the sole survivor of four enlisted brothers. Private Ryan (Matt Damon) parachuted in with the 101st Airborne and is now some twenty miles inland guarding a bridge which is soon to be attacked by German soldiers. The squad of eight men, led by Miller, and including a loyal Sergeant Horvath (Tom Sizemore), a wise-cracking Brooklyn native (Ed Burns), a young medic, a southern Bible quoting sniper, a cowardly translator, a Jew and an Italian are left to wonder why the lives of eight men are worth sacrificing for one man. When they finally locate Ryan, he refuses to leave his post at the bridge. Miller's squad opts to stay and help them defend it, providing the beautiful climax of the movie.
Assembled here is the cross section of America typical of most war films. What we are given by the end of the film are vibrant characters who share a bond. They have all been to hell and back together, all except for Corporal Upham, who is brought along only for his abilities as a translator. Upham, played by Jeremy Davies of Spanking the Monkey, has never fired a rifle in anger. Davies gives one of the best performances of the film. He provides the movie with one of the most indelible images: a cowardly soldier standing on the steps of a rubbled building, crying, unable to do anything in the face of the enemy. He is representative of the typical soldier. Our soldiers were ordinary boys before going to fight. That's one of the things Saving Private Ryan shows us, that these guys were not born soldiers, but kids. Even the leader, Capt. Miller, who doesn't reveal anything about his personal life until a crucial moment turns out to be an ordinary Joe.
Spielberg bookends the film with a scene which I feel takes away from the impact of his brilliant vision. It is much like the scene he included as an epilogue to Schindler's List which caused me to feel less for the film as a result. You may recall the final scene in Schindler when the surviving Schindler Jews line up with the actors who portrayed them to place a stone on Schindler's grave. Spielberg was attempting to make an already profound statement more profound. Schindler's List speaks for itself, the film did not need the afterword Spielberg gave it. Nearly the same thing is done here. The opening scene is taken directly from an incident in Spielberg's own life. An old man, obviously a veteran, walks through the sea of tombstones at Normandy. He falls to his knees and sobs. At the end of the film we return to this man, now knowing who he is, and he spouts off a contrived monologue which takes away from the impact of the film as a whole.
Robert Rodat's script falters sometimes, and he provides each major character with a monologue. Each one drips with sentimentality and has significance to each character. It is a ploy typical of Spielberg's films to stir up artificial emotion. The story itself is full of sentiment and is somewhat unbelievable. Why would the U.S. Army send eight soldiers deep behind enemy lines to save one soldier? The reason is easily justified in the script: it is a publicity stunt to help boost morale on the homefront. It's still difficult to buy.
None of that matters, though, because the story is a backdrop for the war. It is a means to an end. A way for Spielberg to honor the young men who lost their lives in the Last Great War. His mission was not a man, but a glorious epic war film.
Copyright © 1999 Jason Ihle. All rights reserved.