|
Alphabetic Index
|
Ratings Index
|
Web Resources
|
Alphabetic Index
|
Ratings Index
|
Web Resources
Mel Gibson does a journeyman job as the archetypal citizen hero, Benjamin Martin, an American variant of the everyman warrior he so memorably fashioned in Braveheart. A gentleman farmer, widowed father of several well-scrubbed offspring and legendary champion of the French and Indian Wars, the South Carolinian is initially painted as a reluctant soldier. He is still tormented by actions he took during the Wilderness Campaign. Still, an injudicious son just champing at the bit to join the fray calls him a coward. No matter. The title character's first loyalty is to his family. He has seen what havoc war can wreak. And that's good news for England, albeit only temporary. Because they eventually make a grave error.
It reminds me of a political axiom I learned as a child on the block I grew up on: "Don't Make Mitchell Cry!" You see, Mitchell was a nice enough but rather ineffectual fighter, that is, unless you committed the deadly mistake of making him cry. Then, his eyes glazed over like a madman's, arms flailing like a windmill in full storm, the little guy became indomitable.
And so it goes with Benjamin Martin. The British made him cry.
This occurs shortly after Mr. Martin's eldest son, Gabriel (Heath Ledger), joins the Continental Army despite Dad's vehement objections. A tragic turn of events at the hands of the movie's arch villain, the nefariously opportunistic Colonel William Tavington (Jason Isaacs), ultimately puts Benjamin's next oldest son in harm's way. It is too much to bear. Revenge becomes part of the equation. And thus, when in the course of human events, to coin a phrase, dedication to hearth and home becomes inextricably tied to freedom from British tyranny, Benjamin swings into action.
The Patriot affirms that artistically tying the personal to the grand and majestic without stooping to soap opera sensibilities is the key to making accessible the full sweep of a motion picture epic. The plot by screenwriter Robert Rodat (Saving Private Ryan), while familiar, manages this astute ploy. It is then interpreted with notable aplomb by director Emmerich (Godzilla, Independence Day). And stunningly photographed by Caleb Deschanel in beautifully unspoiled locations, the idea of America the beautiful as the aesthetic prize born of noble conflict is given ample play. Architecture and interior scenery pay proper lip service to the Currier and Ives tradition without diminishing the very stark actualities of America's fight for independence. Smooth editing melds it all together.
On the light side, folkways and mores of the times are realistically surveyed, including a whimsical look at the pre-marital practice of bundling (look it up) that Gabriel must abide by once he begins courting his patriotic soul mate, Anne Howard (Lisa Brenner). But then there's the movie's darker side.
Adeptly mixing and managing his dramatic elements, casually presenting the day-to-day human events that concerned Colonists, director Emmerich purposely catches us off guard, setting us up for the devastating horrors of battle. The cold physics of musket ball and cannon fire in flight, tearing a mindless rage through anything in their path, puts a haunting face on the resolve and bravery that fought the Revolutionary War. While patriotism goes in and out of fashion, there's no arguing against the American fight for freedom. Giving pause at the depicted sacrifice is inevitable.
There is a great dearth of films, let alone good ones, about the Revolution. Most folks would be hard-put to name more than three. But there's a good reason for that. Because, while a true tale, it is also the story of our beginnings. It is our Iliad, our Odyssey, and hence by definition steeped in great lore and mythology. It is the durable stuff of childhood pageants, dependable, familiar and firm in its telling.
But the recounting here, if it is to come down from its pedestal and touch viewers personally, relies on us viewing it as one man's travail. And Mr. Gibson proves up to the task of fostering that notion. Personalising it for the younger audience, heartthrob Heath Ledger as son Gabriel is bound to turn some co-eds into Revolutionary War buffs.
And for those who just don't think it's a movie-going experience unless there's a murderous villain to despise, Jason Isaacs is happy to oblige as the aforementioned Colonel Tavington. The bitter heir of a fallen aristocrat out to carve a place for himself in America, the jackbooted sadist is a bit over the top in his seething manipulations; just a tad too robust with invective and moustache twirling. Still, you love to hate him. And in a comment on military etiquette, he serves as the antithesis of gentlemanly General Cornwallis, nicely envisioned by Tom Wilkinson as the last vestige of what he fears is the old order.
Other performances of note include Chris Cooper as Benjamin's old Indian-fighting friend, stolid Colonel Harry Burwell; Tcheky Karyo as the often humorous French ally, Jean Villeneuve; and Adam Baldwin as Captain Wilkins, a Loyalist who informs on his neighbours to prove his fealty.
The film's naturalistic depiction of military conflict, almost entirely devoid of romanticisation, emulates the tone Spielberg captured in Saving Private Ryan. A style pioneered by the great anti-war film, All Quiet On The Western Front, it was rarely employed until disenchantment with the Vietnam War in the early 70's made anti-war notions both fashionable and commercially viable.
Otherwise, the American war movie has, for the most part, served as a clarion call to war. With few notable exceptions, the genre has not bothered, the way The Patriot does, to explore with such passion the inherent and tragic ambiguity of warfare. For that, we've generally depended on filmmakers in foreign lands, where the long history of war tends to erase the glory from human conflict. Could be we're growing up.
|
Alphabetic Index
|
Ratings Index
|
Web Resources