Saving Private Ryan (1998)
A Film Review by Mark O'Hara
A sore subject with many Americans is the absence of a national memorial dedicated to the men and women who served and perished in World War II.
Steven Spielberg's SAVING PRIVATE RYAN will not stand as this memorial. But the film is noteworthy because of the ways it bestows a profound tribute and respect.
I was lucky to be able to watch with my father, a WW II veteran. We sat in the third row, the crowded theater taking our options. Glancing behind me during the film, and talking with my father afterwards, I concluded that no other film about war packs the sustained power of Spielberg's treatment.
Only ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT and GALLIPOLI carry similar moments that show personal horrors. SAVING PRIVATE RYAN opens with a prologue in which a veteran visits an American cemetery in France. The man walks ahead of his extended family, his face caving in under his memories. Soon we see the men in the LCIs landing on Omaha Beach on June 6, 1944. Some soldiers retch, some kiss the crucifixes of their rosaries; all are afraid. From a monologue delivered in a dark church to the private torment of a shell-shocked translator, the film creates a relentless emotional tension.
One of the agents that makes this mood is the camera. We witness the first hour from the points of view of hand-held cameras, some shots so jerky they are uncomfortable to watch. After Captain John Miller (Tom Hanks) receives orders to bring to safety Private James Ryan, whose three brothers have been killed in action, we continue to watch many skirmishes from on-the-spot vantages. Matched with editing that is quick and transparent, the camera work makes the viewer's experience visceral.
The sets and costumes further the terrifying realism. Although there are no long shots of the entire Operation Overlord, the part of the invasion we can see is dead-on. Machine gun nests, bunkers, weaponry and vehicles -- these elements engage us easily into the narrative. After Capt. Miller picks his squad and sets off behind enemy lines to locate James Francis Ryan of Iowa (Matt Damon), we see more locations that telegraph the story's accuracy. Bombed houses, splintered planks everywhere, and rubble-strewn streets resemble photographs of real battle scenes. And the costumes are correct. My father says perhaps a few too many helmets are covered in netting, but otherwise the designers are sharp. The canvas belts, the jackets, the occasional puttees laced around the calves -- these are the outfits of 1944. Do technical aspects make the actors' work easier? They are certainly related, but the acting here is self-reliant. It is hard to identify an unnatural performance or an unnecessary character. Tom Hanks tints John Miller with mannerisms and tone that evoke sympathy. The motif of his shaking hand reminds us that even the strongest and wisest leaders are human. If politics are just this year, Hanks will pull nominations for major awards. I would also cite Tom Sizemore as Sergeant Mike Horvath, a sturdy confidant to Miller. Perhaps the toughest supporting role is Damon's. The long build-up of the squad's resentment toward Pvt. Ryan is dispelled almost immediately when we finally see him. (I understand there was some actual resentment because Damon did not experience the mini boot-camp imposed upon the actors in Miller's squad.)
I'll offer one critical comment about the director, and then I'll praise him. The ending of the film, while effective, does not flow as well as the last moments of SCHINDLER'S LIST. The frame tale to which LIST returns works better, developing a personal epic weightiness. Anyhow, Spielberg has a talent for choosing important themes, whether or not his film is a serious drama or a lighter "entertainment." RYAN links mesmerizing episodes of war with moments of characterization you would expect in a fine short story. It even throws in some laughs for relief. We are fortunate that Spielberg has wrought an honest portrayal, one that affirms the values of the 1940's and deems them worthy today.
As a boy in the 1960's, playing "Army" with cap guns and real surplus canteens donated to our Scout troop, I saw the Second World War as a romantic adventure. It was like following Vic Morrow from "Combat" around our backyards.
SAVING PRIVATE RYAN reinforced to me that the war following the Great War was just as hellish as the fighting in Vietnam -- which I heard about on television every night as I grew up.
The film reminded me why my father and hundreds of thousands of people of his generation sacrificed their time and their lives. We, their daughters and sons, must live in a free world. We must inherit or cause the eventuality of not having to fight and die ourselves.
Perhaps the hushed audience in the multiplex realized these ideas as the credits rolled. It's one type of memorial I'm sure our parents and grandparents would want, an anti-war movie viewed by millions.
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