Saving Private Ryan

As the small boats rock slowly toward the shore at Omaha beach Normandy on D-day, the weary, seasick soldiers take a deep breath and open the large protective shield at the back of the boat. They are unaware of exactly what is going to happen. One man kisses the crucifix that hangs around his neck. As the flap falls, the battle begins. They are trapped like rats in a cage and proceed to be blown to pieces in the wake of enemy gunfire. Amid the chaos of this massacre stands a shot that, at least for me, hangs in the air like the girl in the little red coat in Schindler's List. A soldier, clearly missing an arm, wanders around the body-strewn beach like a lost puppy. We are not invited to know what he is searching for until he finds it himself. He bends over, picks up his arm and starts to carry it, probably not bothering to ask himself; "What now?"

Saving Private Ryan is a masterfully composed film. The direction is out of this world, surely the type of command that can win Spielberg another directing Oscar. The cinematography, by Janusz Kaminsky, is also astounding. But be forewarned, this is the most violent and graphic film I have ever seen. The articles you read and the warnings you see are justified; Saving Private Ryan is as visually disturbing as a film can get. The question is, "does the story and its realism justify the excessive use?" The answer from my point of view is "no". Braveheart was a truly gritty, and, one would imagine, realistic battle film. Ryan is ten times worse. Expect disembowelments, sucked in skulls, heads blown to bits, arms and legs flying across the battlefield. Many in the theater could not bear to watch. And it is a shame, too, because this is otherwise by far one of the standouts this year. But such graphic displays may turn away even the most loyal Spielberg supporters (and Academy members).

Saving Private Ryan takes us from the attack at Omaha beach on D-day, 1944, through into the film's primary mission. Captain Miller (Hanks) assembles an 8 man crew and sets off to find a missing solider, Private Ryan, whose three brothers have already been killed on the battlefield. The government goes to great lengths to make sure that Mrs. Ryan doesn't recieve a fourth letter of condolences about her sons, that no person should suffer such injustice. Miller's crew is not in favor of the mission and they begin to harbor a secret hatred for Ryan, though they don't yet know him. They resent having to trudge out to bring home one soldier who doesn't have any more or less right to live than any of them. This film manages to keep up a rapid pace and, though there is a lot of set up between battles, the story continues full speed to the end. The pacing and dramatism of the extremely well choreographed battle scenes is really in a league of its own. Spielberg, though not a student of the "quick cut" school of filmmaking, takes a stab at it here, and does it better than Michael Bay or any of his MTV counterparts could ever hope to do it. Bay should pay close attention, take copious notes. If you want to jump cut every two seconds, do it the way Spielberg does it in Ryan.

In the end, the extremity of the gory violence is not justified by the "importance" of the film. Schindler's List taught many people the truth about the Holocaust. It opened eyes, sparked debate and study. Though the battle scenes in Ryan have never been portrayed as realistically before, they don't amount to anything as serious or thought provoking as the Schindler's List. Overall, this is just the truest depiction of the old adage, "war is hell." But Braveheart-dosage would have fit this movie much more appropriately, and would have made the difference between me getting up the nerve to see it again someday and realizing that this is something I doubt I could endure again. Masterful work marred only by excessive gore.

Nick Amado