Shaving Ryan's Privates... no, wait!

Rating: 10/10 (9 September 2010)

Realistically, if Saving Private Ryan, a masterstroke even by Spielberg's standards, is renowned for anything to the unfortunate global margin who have not yet witnessed its awesome might, it is the opening battle scene at Omaha Beach. In a graphic, unflinching and intelligently crafted 24 minutes of intense combat, Hanks' Captain Miller attempts to lead a scattered battalion up the Normandy dunes where the German's have strategically set up a prime and virtually impenetrable defense, made up of turrets and other artillery which they fire unceasingly at the landing soldiers. This sequence has been lauded, justifiably, as possibly the most realistic, not to mention enthralling, WWII battle scene ever made.
A nonstop, action-packed spectacle of epic proportions, this opening absorbs the viewer to the extent that the experience becomes a predominantly visceral one, where everything on screen is felt rather than seen or heard. When the soldiers begin to yell military jargon to each other amidst their chaotic surroundings, much of which is either inaudible or incomprehensible, the instinctive understanding between the characters and the viewer is mutual: "We're getting shot at, so shoot back harder!" During these times when the characters take time to stop and confer with one another, it is refreshing to see Spielberg defy war- movie convention by not also causing the turmoil around them to cease: many a soldier is cut off mid-sentence by an unfortunately aimed bullet/mortar shell. And, as if positioning the camera in amongst this pandemonium would not suffice, Spielberg goes to great lengths to ensure that the audience feels not only like a spectator to this event but a borderline participant; techniques such as allowing a free-fall of water and blood onto the camera and the incorporation of a smouldering grainy effect on the lens that seems to elongate and redefine every stroke of light and colour on screen add to the experience.
Spielberg's meticulous attention-to-detail is a distinctive aspect of his directing style that informs much of the Omaha Beach landing as there's a strong notion while watching that every one of the hundreds of extras on screen is briefed on the scene as fully as possible, being instructed on precisely when and where to shoot, scream, fall, die etc. This, amongst other Spielberg traits, is the mark of a brilliant director and a quality that no doubt won him his second Best Director statue, along with his uncharacteristic choosing of such mature subject matter as in his previous win for Schindler's List five years earlier.
Saving Private Ryan is, at its foundation, a thrilling and rewarding film that succeeds in exhilarating the audience and fulfilling the needs of any adrenaline junkies who happen to be watching. What sets the film apart from a vast category of movies that also achieve this merit is that when the action stops the viewers interest doesn't. This is attributed to the snappily flowing and probable dialogue that never degrades itself enough to be necessary; if any quality of a film is ever more appropriately ordained necessary as opposed to entertaining, rest assured it definitely could've been better. Granted, everyone could have gone without Hanks' speech about the horrors of war and his longing for home, the only truly disingenuous moment of the entire film, manufactured solely for usage at awards ceremonies as a short to accompany Hanks' nominations. But this single scene, try as it might, thankfully does not derail the rest of the film's engaging, at times funny and insightful script; in fact, in being surrounded by such brilliance, Hanks' monologue even becomes somewhat endearing with repeat viewings.
Saving Private Ryan, a gem in its own right, is heightened to further planes of excellence by a cast of great variety and, at the time, predominant obscurity, with the exceptions of Hanks, Tom Sizemore and Matt Damon. Nevertheless, each and every one of the mainly young and inexperienced actors that make up Miller's unit are given a chance to prove themselves worthy of their time on screen: modern day action hero Vin Diesel's dying Caparzo pleading for one of his friends to shelter a letter for his father; the eerily captivating Ribsi's Wade speaking of his long-tempered guilt at having deceived his mother; Davies' Upham silently crumbling into a self-loathing, hysterical mess, unable to summon the courage to shoot an enemy soldier; virtually anytime that Goldberg's Mellish and Pepper's Jackson speak, with their casual humour, stoic sorrow and startling arrogance that is as involving as any other character.
Ed Burns as Reiben, the largest supporting role, initiates the first of what has resulted in a typecast career and a slew of hardened, defiant, almost "bad-boy" roles. He shatters this façade only once to speak of a beautiful and, most pertinently, curvaceous woman he knows back home whom he thinks of whenever he finds the war around him too much to bear. Sizemore is walking familiar ground as the toughened and ripened authoritarian support, but at least there is a dimension to his character, unseen in the ill-fated Pearl Harbour. Matt Damon in the brief role of Private Ryan is outstanding in his ability to connect with the audience, especially the anecdote he tells involving his three brothers, persuading surprisingly comfortable laughter and a touching sense of loss.
Tom Hanks' fine portrayal of Captain Miller is a truly original character in which there is no hint of the tender Forrest Gump or the jaded but honest Charlie Wilson; Miller is a testament to Hanks' wide and impressive spectrum, which is made abundantly clear anyway by virtually every film he appears in.
An audience-pleasing endeavour that offers as much excitement as it does quaint and unexpected intimacy, Saving Private Ryan is a war film that never seeks to glorify itself, but rather acknowledge that great things can sprout from even the sh*ttiest situations.