The Best Film of the Year

Rating: 10/10 (28 December 1998)

There is something so significantly different about Spielberg and Malick's takes on the war. And it is in that very distinction that one begins to realize how truly minuscule "Ryan" is in comparison to the far superior "Line."
Firstly, it should be noted that what Spielberg achieved in the first and final battle scenes of "Ryan" were nothing less than miraculous. The bravura juggling act of dramatic irony and bloodshed was mesmerizing to behold. There is no battle sequence in "Line" that is as remotely grotesque or technically challenging as those in "Line." But of course, this is not a contest--and "Line's" concern for the war and it's significance is a little bit more profound than that of "Ryan."
"Ryan," with it's battle scenes goes for the jugular, where "Line" completely goes for the heart and the mind of the audience, in a nearly three hour meditation on war, violence, love, nature and something "Ryan" could never do--humanity.
In Spielberg's fantasy world--or maybe it was his screenwriter's--people exist as mere archetypes. To him, a war can not exist without every main character fitting into a cliched mold. You got to have the religious guy, the idiot, the coward, the ultra-brave guy, the ethnic guy, and so on. This type of character placement is so ridiculously obvious and is the main flaw of "Ryan"--which is further weekend by its trite monologues and awkward moments of humor. The scene where Hank's character tells the wrong Ryan that his brother's were killed was ludicrous--apparently inspired by any of the worst "mistaken identity" episodes of such shows as "Three's Company." (Hey, the audience I saw it with was roaring with laughter.) In Spielberg's world, cemetery scenes merely exist as places for old men to crumble to the ground and scream at graves while family members stand 5 to 6 feet behind them.
"A Thin Red Line" is about the connection that we have with nature. When the first death's occur in this movie, we get a cut-away to a field of grass, the wind gently caressing it, and the sun shining above it. A man later says that "we are nothing but earth."
And that is where the meaning of the film begins to emerge. This is a film that will confuse many, but like some of the greatest poems ever written, this will surely be a film that will need to be seen again and again-interpreted differently by all who "read" it.
In "Line" you will see a bird dying next to a human being and the audience realizes that all life is fleeting and we all go back to the same place--the earth.
It is a film that cherishes the meaning and unity of life. The relationship that Ben Chaplin has with his wife is of integral importance because it shows the love that two people have for each other is a unifying force, "like water flowing through a stream." It is a unifying force similar to the one that these men have as they lay against grass and observe the snakes and the birds that are around them. (A later twist between Chaplin and his wife is revealed--adding an interesting take on this philosophy).
Before these men die we get cut-aways to light seeping through the leaves and we see that these men are looking at that light, cherishing the beauty of nature--the last sight before they go out of this world and into the next.
Spielberg's excessive flag waving and ulta-patriotic messages have nothing on Malick's brilliant metaphysical vision.
When the American soldier's attack a Japanese camp, you will witness one of the great scenes in movie history. The tears that the Japanese cry, the way they hold their dying friends, and the way that they pray towards the heaven, looking at the vultures that will eventually eat their carcasses is deeply symbolic.
Malick is telling us that no matter who the enemy is, we are all part of the same scheme--we are all going to the same place. It is a beautiful Emersonian philosophy--far more sophisticated, complex and relevant than anything Spielberg did in Ryan's technical shadow. In "Ryan" you cheered when the German was killed by the soldiers--in "Line", you sympathize when everyone is killed, for you relate to everyone. And that is a far more interesting and complex achievement.
Despite the gawky cameos of Travolta and Clooney (surely due to cutting-floor blues) the refreshing thing about this movie is that the big stars in the movie never upstage the smaller stars. Characters are not introduced in this film the way they are in "Ryan." Here, we see Woody Harrelson in a quick pan--as opposed to Hank's head-on, tilt-up, look-at-camera introduction. Malick knows how to control his big name stars and makes this film a full-fledged ensemble piece--almost as if this were a war film directed by Altman. All the performances are perfectly restrained and nowhere near as dramatic as Tom Hanks' excessive hand-shaking in "Ryan."
"Line" has no concrete narrative. It's a meditation on humanity as much as "2001" was a meditation on existence and evolution. The shot compositions, the cinematography, and the score were phenomenal. Where the once great John Williams was more concerned with milking the patriotic cow with his over-the-top score for "Ryan"--Hans Zimmer, in "Line," creates a score that is alternately inspirational and frightening. Drum beats and aural, jungle sounds captivate you in every frame--from the slow crawl of ships to islands, to the endless climbs up the mountains.
The first hour of the film is like a horror film as you await for the faceless enemies to appear--enemies whose faces are very much like those of the "heroes." The ships of fearful men all going to the same place, all wondering if they will come out. By the end, they have learned more about life than they care to ever experience again. Some will come back while others will return to the earth a little sooner than the rest. The last 10 minutes are a grim reminder of how all of us, one day, will stare death in the face, and we will realize that we are all islands. John Dunne would be proud.