Of the dozen or so movies I've written about this summer in the Geek Screens column, my most controversial reviews were of Armageddon and Saving Private Ryan. In the case of Armageddon, I felt the movie had a nearly irresistible, if blockheaded, charm, a notion few critics or column readers shared.
The more significant discussion followed the review of Saving Private Ryan, in which I suggested that the hype preceding the release of the movie had altered the ability of most people to approach it in a fresh or detached way. I also suggested that it obscured the fact that Steven Spielberg had created a great battle scene rather than a cinematic masterpiece.
The email melee that followed - more evidence that geeks feel passionately about their movies - was particularly interesting in that criticism came from opposite ends of the political spectrum. War veterans and the patriotic right blasted me as a sissy, and the antiwar left chastised me for expressing any reservations about so moving a depiction of the reality of war. It's something of a hat trick to get both groups on your ass. Let's credit Spielberg for getting both on his side.
Much of the severe criticism came from tough guys and veterans suggesting that I'm a wuss who's never seen combat - which is true - and thus in no position to appreciate the film's accomplishments.
"You are a pussy and a disgrace," emailed CharlieD of South Dakota via AOL, "and you make me ill. Here's a film that finally does justice to what combat is like, and you don't get it."
Donald from New Hampshire agreed, "You, sir, are a disgrace. You should be kneeling before the memory of the men who died on those beaches and the wonderful way this movie did tribute to them. I'm sure you've never been near a battle in your life, or you wouldn't be squawking about hype but raving about this movie."
Others emailed that I had missed the powerful emotional kick of the movie (which I liked a lot, I should make clear, although apparently not enough for some), which transcended the brilliance of the opening and closing battle sequences.
"I understand your reservations about the hype," wrote Brian, "but I wonder if the hype didn't make you underestimate the film, which touched me and many other people I know very deeply."
Brian wasn't alone in that. "This movie made me grasp war in a completely new way," emailed Martha from Boston. "I left the theater shaking. Any film that can do that is extraordinary."
Martha may be right. I might have underestimated the emotional impact of Saving Private Ryan even if I couldn't (even after a third viewing) bring myself to christen this movie a masterpiece.
To me, the mark of a great movie isn't simply whether it faithfully captures somebody else's experience, no matter how powerful. It's how well it coheres as a film - writing, imagery, characters. Spielberg is increasingly making movies - including Schindler's List and Amistad - that seem intended to educate as well as entertain us. While all have astonishing, even brilliant elements, I find their piety increasingly unnerving. And possibly manipulative.
Who could possibly object to realistic and powerful efforts to depict the Holocaust, the slave trade, or the sacrifices of patriotic World War II soldiers? Since I've expressed some reservations about all three of the movies, I've become increasingly queasy about films one doesn't dare to dislike because their subject matter is monumental. Is it cynical to sniff some manipulation here? Or to wonder if this subliminally self-righteous agenda doesn't contribute somewhat to the extraordinary tidal wave of hype that now precedes everything Spielberg does?
Though many readers shared my slight skepticism about the film, most - I'd estimate 60 percent - disagreed.
"Your hype," wrote one, "is that you're against hype."
This email discussion has gone on and on, as spirited last week as it was in the days after my review first appeared.
Looking for a more detached perspective, I wondered what Europeans made of the film. After all, much of the war was fought there, and many more Europeans than Americans suffered and died in it.
Hoping to hear from other continents in The Economist, I found instead a US critic who actually panned the movie. According to that review, Saving Private Ryan was undermined by Spielberg's trademark "strained seriousness, corn, and schmaltz."
Though widely hailed as a new sort of war movie, The Economist said, Saving Private Ryan is rooted in the Hollywood tradition of making movies only from the viewpoint of the victors.
"If Mr. Spielberg wants to say something big about war, his virtuosity would be better spent on the far grimmer stories of Srebrenica or Rwanda," the London-based publication argued. "There, innocence was the first casualty, the mass graves were unmarked, and the rewards of courage, if they existed at all, were few."
I'm not so sure. The D-Day landings are as appropriate prisms through which to view war as any, even if they weren't the grisliest atrocities. They remind us of the capriciousness, insanity, and needless suffering in even the "good wars."
But Saving Private Ryan ultimately also reminds us that dazzling technique in the service of telling the truth about war isn't the same thing as brilliant filmmaking, and hype isn't the same as truth and perspective.
Weigh in on Saving Private Ryan.
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