Saving Private Ryan / Schindler’s List

                             A Comparative Film Review by Steve Anthony

 My mother frequently took me to the movies when I was a boy.   The lights would dim and I would sit there in the dark, mesmerized by the larger than life images being projected onto the screen from high above our heads.  We saw many of the popular World War II films of the time, including 

I Bombed Pearl Harbor, In Harm's Way, and The Longest Day.  While we were there to be entertained, I am sure each of us watched these films from a different perspective.

To a nine year old, it really didn’t matter what movie was playing, as long as there was the wonderful aroma and flavor of fresh hot and buttered popcorn in a box within reach.  I would also consume as many sugar laden soft drinks and boxes of candy as I could talk my mother into buying.  Occasionally there would even be a corn dog to relish; deep fried to a golden brown, with a yellow ribbon of mustard running along its length.  I never thought about the reality and seriousness of war versus what was portrayed on the screen until I got much older. 

Back then, Producer/Director Steven Spielberg’s incredible visionary talent was yet to be realized and there was no hint about the World War II films he would bring to us decades later.  Nor did I fathom digital technology, which allows us to experience the realism and horror of battle in the safety of a movie theater, or even our own living rooms as we can with Saving Private Ryan. 

Mr. Spielberg's vision, combined with his Jewish ancestry, also inspired him to give us a glimpse of the horror of the holocaust as rendered in Schindler’s List.  Using both films he brings us two very different, but equally stark realities of World War II. 

Saving Private Ryan, although opening with the historical allied D-Day invasion at Omaha Beach is mostly fictional from that point on.  Still, its unrestrained bluntness presents us with the harshness of war and the impact it can have on the emotions of those involved.  The battle scenes are portrayed so well that we almost feel as if we might be in the midst of them ourselves.  At the very least, we gain empathy for the real soldiers who were actually there.  

This is largely due to the skills and performance of the actors involved under Mr. Spielberg’s direction. ¹ Thousands of real men died on the beaches of France on June 6, 1944, in a battle which was a major turning point for the allied forces.  The film’s camera angles, close ups, and realistic sounds of war and death portray an image not soon to be erased from our collective memories.²  It’s almost as if we are allowed a brief look through the window of time at just a very small portion of that bloody day.

Saving Private Ryan should strike a personal chord with anyone who served or had relatives in the war.  For me it provides a small indication of what my father may have experienced, particularly with the closing battle of the film.  I had always pictured him with his buddies, trying to hide in a fox hole they had painstakingly chipped into hard frozen and foreign soil thousands of miles from home.  I could see them cold and shivering, rifles ready, anticipating the next wave of enemy soldiers that would advance toward them.

It wasn't until I was eighteen that I asked him about it.  His hesitant and quiet reply was that he had been in Germany in the Armored Tank Division, and yes, when required, he had killed.  He was proud to serve, but not of the killing, even if it was the enemy.  I believe this is why he never spoke about it.  Like the story shown in the film, although based on some truth, the reality is slightly different than I imagined. 

In Schindler's List, although not really a war film³, Mr. Spielberg tells us his version of the holocaust.  Unlike Saving Private Ryan, there is more historical fact in this film than fiction.  We know that some 6,000,000 Jewish people were exterminated by the Nazis.  There was also a real Oskar (Oscar) Schindler; a drunkard, womanizer, and frequent partygoer, who with his vast fortune and social status protected as many of them as he could.  History tells us this was more at the urging of his wife however, at least at the beginning, than from his own initiative.  At first Schindler’s goal is simply to make money by taking advantage of Hitler’s closing of the Jewish ghetto on March 20, 1941.  Later he realizes that a human life - any human life - is worth much more than profit.

Shooting the majority of this film in black and white provides a bleak canvas on which is painted a brooding and depressing image of the German death camps of World War II.  This technique easily allows us to envision a time when it seemed Nazi Germany would conquer the world and exterminate all those it felt didn't deserve recognition as human beings.  In reality there were more than just Jews imprisoned, mistreated, and murdered.  Ultimately we learn that men like Schindler can have a change of heart, give up their own security and fortune, and risk their lives for the sake of others.  Amidst this main theme of the movie the perseverance and will to overcome adversity and maintain dignity shines through, even as some victims of the camps go to their deaths. 

Because I no longer have the perspective of that nine year old boy and my own father fought in the war, I have come to realize that movies like Saving Private Ryan and Schindler’s List are not meant to provide entertainment per se.  This is as it should be.  While these films are intended to draw an audience, they were also meant to help educate that audience, and to commemorate the memory of the real victims of the war.  Together they portray its horror, man’s inhumanity to his fellow man, and the high price it took to defeat the reign of tyranny that threatened the world under Nazi Germany. 

Ultimately, Saving Private Ryan teaches us that no one should ever take for granted the freedom that we have, while Schindler’s List wants us to make sure the travesty of the death camps is never repeated anywhere in the world, against any race of people.

1. “There is terror in our eyes in some of those scenes, and rightly so, because we were genuinely scared…and we knew it was fake.” —Tom Hanks, who plays Captain Miller in Saving Private Ryan.

2. “What I tried to do in this film was approximate the look and the sounds and even the smells of what combat is like.” — Steven Spielberg, discussing his film, Saving Private Ryan.
3. “...and Schindler’s List, which I don’t consider a war film.  It’s in a category all its own.” — Steven Spielberg, discussing his World War II period films.

 Eight Legged Freaks (2002)
           a film review by Steve Anthony

What's more fun than a barrel of monkeys? A mall full of giant spiders of course!

If you're looking for a fun Halloween movie this year, don't overlook 2002's "Eight Legged Freaks."  You might remember the trailers when this movie was first released. As trailers go, what you see is what you get - a small secluded town invaded by giant jumping spiders. The action starts in the first few minutes of the film and doesn't let up until the end.

Unless spiders truly give you the creepy crawlies, this film will amuse (think "Gremlins" with eight legs) more than scare you, although some scenes of very realistic and humongous spiders snatching people away to be entombed in silk and have the juices sucked out of them later do provide a horrific ‘what if?’ nightmarish vision.

The filmmakers had a great time parodying giant bug movies of the 50's here and the movie even makes fun of itself in a few scenes. Watch for the little subtle horror homage jokes: a citizen with a chainsaw and hockey mask, a Looney Tunes®-ish fight between a cat and a giant spider inside a wall that leaves their prints in sheetrock on the other side, and even a quick attempt at often used sexual innuendo humor via a male store mannequin falling face first into the lap of a female mannequin. This happens so quickly however, that the kids and probably even some adults won't pick up on it. Don't worry about having to explain anything other than sometimes mannequins fall over onto each other amid the ruckus of creature features. [And sometimes their blow-up-auto-pilot cousins smoke on airplanes.]

Crawl, no JUMP online or to your nearest DVD rental store if you still have one in your town, pull up a web and enjoy! This is quirky entertainment that'll help take the edge off those slasher films you're watching on Halloween - at least until the door bell rings and a kid in a giant spider costume is standing on the other side. 

Song of the Cherokee

©2013 Steve Anthony
All rights reserved

 

Song of the Cherokee

 by Steve Anthony

[V1]

As I stopped beside a stream in a forest that's nearby

I spied a woman standing with her hands raised toward the sky.
She was old and she was wrinkled, her hair was flowing gray,
In her hands she held a little drum bound in feathers that were frayed.
I slipped behind a tree into the shadows of the day,
so that I would not disturb her as she sang, and as she prayed.

 [Refrain]

"Oh Great Spirit, now please hear me for my time is growing near

and my heart is deeply broken for the earth that you hold dear.
Man has robbed it of its beauty he has pillaged near and far
stripped the forests and the mountains and his profit leaves it scarred.
We've forgotten all you taught us; how to live in harmony
and to treat each other with respect, in your image we should be.
Please look down on us Great Spirit, touch our hearts and make us kind
And let us restore the beauty of the earth you left behind.
Aiyyyahhhhh aiiyyyahhh aiiyahhh aiiyyhhheeeee
Aiyyahhh aiyyyahhh hear my song of the Cherokee."

 [V2]

When she finished she walked slowly down a path and disappeared

so I followed just so I could see if she came from somewhere near
I stumbled on a pile of rocks with a marker there that read

“PLEASE RESPECT THIS ANCIENT GRAVE.
PLEASE RESPECT THE DEAD.”

And just below the marker were the words that she had said
They were carved into the ancient stones placed there above her head.

[Repeat refrain]

[Repeat] 

Please look down on us Great Spirit touch our hearts and make us kind

And let us restore the beauty of the earth you left behind.
Aiyyyahhhhh aiiyyyahhh aiiyahhh aiiyyhhheeeee
Aiyyahhh aiyyyahhh hear my song of the Cherokee.

With a Bang!

©2002-2013 Steve Anthony

All rights reserved

With a Bang!

                                                                                by Steve Anthony

            Uri raised his hand in the middle of our discussion on adverbs.  “How do you cel-ee– brrrate dees ‘In-dee-pend-ants Day’?” he asked.  “In my life, I have nev-rrr  at-ten-ded such a ting like dees.  I would like to make shorrre I do eet rrright.”

             I smiled at his broken English.  It was beautiful.  Uri, like the rest of the immigrants in my class, had learned a lot about our language in the months since I had started teaching them to speak it.  Now we spent most of our days drilling in conjugation, spelling, and pronunciation of the large vocabulary they had already learned.  They had heard of the Fourth of July – Independence Day – in the United States, but none had experienced it since arriving here to become citizens.  In just a few days they would know firsthand what traditions comprise our yearly celebration of freedom.  I could tell from Uri’s question that they were more interested in hearing about it than in learning more adjectives and adverbs.  I closed my book and placed it on the dull gray surface of the metal table next to me.

              “Well, Uri,” I started, “the class is doing very well in its lessons, so I think I can take some time to tell you how we celebrate Independence Day.”

 

There was agreement in the classroom and everyone nodded their heads.  Many started clapping their hands and wide grins of glee broke out on their faces.

 “Yes, tee-cherrr, please tell us about it,” they cried in unison.

 So far they knew nothing of the large family gatherings and picnics, in the backyards and parks of America, on the fourth of July.  The extravagant displays of rockets, sparklers, and firecrackers were as far from their minds as the other traditions our families have passed down, to be kept by each of us in remembrance of the freedom we enjoy in the United States.

 I began to tell them what to expect on their first Independence Day in this country. I started with the fireworks stands that sprout here and there along the highways weeks before the big event, like huge white mushrooms waiting for their caps to spring open to reveal rows of brightly colored items designed to entice the child in each of us.  Each stand’s big red letters and colorful streamers shining in the sun or flapping in the breeze, offer us a bigger bang and a brighter flash with each item purchased if we’ll only stop to look.

 Next I told them of the parades with their bright uniforms, marching bands, and twirling batons rising high in the air and falling back again, only to be caught by their owners before hitting the ground.  I spoke about the sound of blaring trumpets, and drums beating in rhythm to the traditional music of  Stars and Stripes Forever, America the Beautiful, and The Star Spangled Banner, and how the music rouses the crowd to heartfelt patriotism.  As throngs of people line the streets and avenues of cities and towns to watch, listen, and cheer them on, they build to a crescendo of sights and sounds to remember. 

 My appetite kicked into high gear when I told them of the picnics, and families getting together on a sultry July afternoon in the park.  I could almost see the paper plates being passed around, filled with generous dollops of velvety smooth potato salad, chicken fried to a golden brown, and piles of sweet and creamy cole slaw enticing the masses. I mentioned the aroma of charcoal mixed with the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers sizzling over it, wafting through the air and making people hungry all over again no matter how much anyone had already eaten. 

I spoke of children laughing and giggling and running everywhere with seemingly limitless energy, while adults chatted with each other and gorged themselves on the traditional cuisine of the day.  Here and there the crack of bat echoed through the air from a nearby baseball game, while the sound of a horseshoe striking a metal post driven into the brown dirt chimes in the distance. Now and then, a prankster tosses a lit firecracker dangerously close to someone’s feet just to see them jump, holler, and run away as it explodes in a white puff of smoke, scattering remnants of paper and smoke in a shower of red confetti. 

Finally I told them of the elaborate fireworks programs when darkness falls, and the whistling sounds of huge loads of gun powder and phosphorous being launched into the dark sky, to erupt in loud booms and paint a brilliant display of luminescent brilliance across it. At the finale of the display there would be a series of rapid fire explosions of sound and light, culminating in the revelation of an American flag in all its red, white, and blue glory above the heads of the crowd.

When I was finished, you could see the awe on their faces slowly replaced by the pride of having chosen to become citizens of this great nation of ours. Although I knew my words couldn’t replace the actual experience of an Independence Day celebration, I tried to make them anticipate it when it came.

“What I have told you is only a small sample of what it is like to experience a real Fourth of July celebration,” I said.  It will be much better when you go for yourselves, and you will build your own traditions over the years, for you and your families.”

There was a pause as they contemplated what I had told them, and briefly discussed it among themselves. 

            Finally, Uri spoke. “It is okay, tee-cherrr.  It is good. You cel-ee-brate ‘In-dee-pend-ants-Day’ like such an im-porrr-tant event should be cel-ee-brated. W-w-wid a bang!”