Saving Private Ryan's philosophical (see stoned) cousin

Rating: 6/10 (10 September 2010)

If one is endeavouring watch The Thin Red Line, the recommendation is to do so twice, once to gain understanding of the structure, motivated by one thing and one thing only which is, in one word, thought. The second time is to work out what the heel just happened!
In one sense, Terrence Malick, a man who embodies the very epitome of perfectionism, in producing, adapting for the screen and directing Red Line has created a brutally realistic depiction of war that touches upon such themes as morality and mortality, nature's role in the world and whether it is inherently evil or just a random presence and one's very existence in this apparently beautiful world.
On the other hand, it's all over the goddamned place! The perspective from which this film's narration is told changes so frequently that it's virtually impossible to comprehend what everyone has to say and keep up with the simultaneous goings-on. Brief flashbacks and a relentlessly persistent voice-over (that at select times is enlightening) present themselves as substitutes for any real substance when the film's trajectory ceases.
The director's forte is his passionate love for all things that are untainted in their natural state, ranging from his beautifully crafted depiction of a Melanesian coastal village to his enchanting portrait of the emerald fields of Guadalcanal glinting in the sun, accompanied by an original score by Hans Zimmer, which it would be redundant to say is at times heart wrenching and others invigorating. Malick's idiosyncratic thought process is at its best in these conditions, particularly the film's opening ten minutes, where Private Witt (Jim Caviezel) sits on beaches and floats carelessly in the sea, wondering why the world can't revel in such peaceful serenity as he does. Witt is a man as gentle as Forrest Gump, with a bit more sense and perhaps too lively a mind. He is not necessarily religious but simply believes in another world, a concept that he and his superior Welsh (the inimitable Sean Penn) are at odds over. Penn as Welsh is a stoically intimidating cynic, his toxic jadedness even affecting the lively Witt.
"I can take anything you dish out," answers Witt to his sergeant. "I am twice the man you are." Welsh reclines back on his chair subtly and cocks his head to the left, his piercing gaze never leaving Witt. Witt's smile falters and he turns away; he's not so sure anymore.
Another truly innovative approach to conflict is the verbalisation Malick uses to represent the relationship between the Japanese and American soldiers, particularly while the battles still rage. An American soldier in prone on the side of a bunker containing a Japanese turret is spotted. The exchange: "We know you out there, Yank!" "Tojo eats sh*t!" "No, Roosevelt eats sh*t!"
Not so innovative, of course, is the token trooper (Ben Chaplin's emotional Private Jack Bell) with the girlfriend/fiancé/wife/what-have- you at home who just couldn't wait anymore for him to come home and met this really nice guy and yeah.
Also, the constant ponderings of Witt, Bell and many others as to "Who did?", "Why does?", "How come?" increase in repetitiveness until you're certain even God isn't listening anymore. Which reminds me, why does it seem that everyone in Red Line is on a conversational basis with The Almighty? Are there no atheists in the squadron, or are they just not allowed screen time?
However, to be fair, this film is far from a lost cause and contains too much enjoyable, aesthetically stimulating and professionally rendered material to simply be dismissed as a failed experiment.
A particularly potent scene: Sergeant Keck (Woody Harrelson), in what he calls a recruit mistake, reaches for a grenade strapped to his belt and accidentally pulls the pin off instead, with the active explosive remaining tied to his waist. Reacting quickly, he throws himself against an embankment so as to fully repress the blast and protect his surrounding comrades from danger. The grenade injures Keck mortally, and he begins lamenting his error, shouting, "I blew my butt off!" (Not as funny as it sounds!) He claws at his face jerkily, wanting to remove any mud or dirt so as to depart the world with as clean and respectable an appearance as he can manage. The soldiers around him watch in silent pity as he slowly becomes delusional and eventually lays his head back against the trench. Bell turns to Private Doll (Dash Mihok) and asks gently, "You gonna write his wife?" Doll looks around, terrified. "F*ck no," he says tearfully. "I don't know his old lady. I ain't no good at writing letters."
Penn's finest hour as Welsh is arguably his heroic sprint to a young soldier dying too noisily in the midst of crossfire. It's amazing to witness the conventionalism of commander/commanded relationship broken in such simple dialogue: "You gotta be quiet. I came to help you, OK. Calm down." "F*CK YOU! I'm dying. I'm dying, sarge!" "Well goddamn it, do it with less noise!" Welsh attempts to carry the wounded soldier which proves too painful for him to suffer. The boy screams for Welsh to put him down and just leave and let him die. Welsh's face flares with defiance. He runs across to a recently gunned-down medic and grabs all the morphine he can find. Bullets rattling all about him, Welsh returns to the dying kid and gives him all of it. Welsh stares down at the boy, writhing helplessly on the ground, nothing but sorrow in his eyes. He stands reluctantly. "Bye, kid." The soldier whimpers. "Goodbye, sarge. Goodbye" Not a dry eye in the house.
Succinctly, while Red Line is overstated, at times lengthy (it's hard not to be at 160 minutes!) and Malick sometimes finds himself drowning in his own brooding deepness, there is no denying that it has the potential to excite, provoke agonising thought and move its very perplexed audience beyond words.