Recovering from Private Ryan
Mild spoiler alert -- if you haven't seen the movie yet and don't want to
hear anything at all, click here to skip to the
main page (though I don't think it's giving away the store).
I saw Saving Private Ryan on Aug. 18 with the folks in the town of
residence, and I'll join the chorus saying that Messers Spielberg and Hanks best
clear another space on the mantel.
This was the kind of movie that leaves you shaking.
It was the kind of movie where you have to sit there through the credits, simply
because you aren't sure you'll be able to stand up once you get up.
Where all you can say is, "Wow."
As advertised, it was gory, terrifying, and confusing.
The film has gotten just attention for what some have called the most realistic
portrayal of actual combat yet put on screen. And those scenes will probably
leave you as they left me -- thankful for the people who fought that fight, that
sacrificed to maintain the freedom we have.
While all of that was beyond spectacular, it was another pair of scenes (this is
that spoiler alert) that had the most effect on me, an effect I did not expect. Those
two were the kind of framework scenes, the very opening and the very closing --
featuring the cemetaries at Normandy. I've never been there, and I don't know if
I ever will, but seeing it on screen, cross after cross... Suffice it to say that it will
choke a person up.
I've seen and read that those scenes received some flak, even from people who
absolutely loved the movie, as tacky, sappy, even manipulative. That's strange
from people who praise the rest of the three hours for its "realism," its "truth."
What in that entire movie was more genuine, more true, than that cemetary?
Ignore, for the moment, the modern-day family in those scenes (especially in the
later one, that wasn't all that hard -- if you ain't crying by now :-), you're in the
wrong theater); they're just bringing a little closure to the specific story we
heard. The greater story is a purely visual one. It is the story of countless men,
buried on that field, each one a part of the initiative that took back France, and in
doing so would eventually take back peace in Europe.
more mild spoiler
Capt. John Miller's admonition to Pvt. James Ryan -- "Earn this" -- is an
admonition to all of us, really. "This" isn't just a little eight-man rescue mission.
"This" is graphically represented by cross after cross after cross after cross after
cross above the beaches of Normandy. Because of the acts of the men who lie
beneath those crosses upon crosses, we have the lives we have, and the world is
that much better for it. And we had damn well better prove ourselves worthy of
that sacrifice. From day one of our educations, we've heard that freedom has a price, blah blah blah. One look at the opening and closing of this movie will remind you of exactly what price that is -- and show it more clearly than anything most of us have ever seen.
Tear-o-meter
By my count, this is the fifth piece of performance art that has reduced me to
tears. The other four:
- "Lisa's Substitute," The Simpsons -- Maybe I was just really
depressed at the time, but that little contrite speech of Homer's in Lisa's room?
About how someday she'd be off somewhere with the smart people and "guys
like me are serving drinks"? And then he has the little bonding thing where he
actually starts acting like a baboon? I lost it.
- "Love's Labor Lost," ER -- It won an Emmy, and it certainly deserved
it. Seeing it the first time, not knowing what was coming, was so intense I didn't
even realize the news was on for about six minutes after the episode ended.
- In My Life, The Beatles -- Catch me in the right mood and I'll
bawl..."All these places had their moments/With lovers and friends, I still can
recall/Some are dead and some are living/In my life, I've loved them all"...
- Beautiful Boy, John Lennon -- "I can hardly wait to see you come of
age/But I guess we'll both just have to be patient/'Cause it's a long way to go, a
hard roe to hoe." I defy ANYONE to hear him sing those words to Sean, realize
that a couple of months later he was dead, and not at least have the lower lip
quiver.
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Anchored the boring homepage, August 20, 1998-September 9, 1998
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Michael Fornabaio---mef17@oocities.com