The Thin Red Line (1998)1998, in my opinion, is the year of artistic expression. Certainly, every year has had a certain level of artistry portrayed on the silver screen, but no year this decade has achieved such a high level of quality feature films produced by studios. Usually, poetic films are only to be found in the independent line of field, but 1998 has had several, including Beloved and now Terrence Malick's THE THIN RED LINE. Even Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan was poetic at times. Unfortunately for Malick, his film may be coming out too soon. It is already being referred to as "that other war film."
And it is a shame, since Malick astonishingly achieves a film of pure poetry told with a narrative completely lacking of logic and comprehensibility. This brings up a debated question: should poetry be left to the written page, and not the screen? My answer is no. Visual imagery is more powerful than any written word, if done correctly. Malick is a masterful storyteller in that his films tend to defy what we perceive as the normal way of telling stories. THE THIN RED LINE balances a very thin line between a jumbled mess and enchanting expressionism.
Both Beloved and THE THIN RED LINE seem to open a new line of storytelling. Both are completely original (except the fact that they were based on novels) and are told with such efficiency and artistry that they are bound to turn off audiences. Saving Private Ryan set a new standard in the war movie genre, but THE THIN RED LINE pushes those limits even further. The film is filled with awe-inspiring images and horrific battles that resemble Platoon more than Spielberg's war film. Since they are both World War II pictures, the average audience member might be expecting another action-oriented film like Spielberg's. They are in for an unpleasant experience, as Malick's film is pure drama. In fact, the few battle scenes it does have are far between. The rest of the three-hour long film is up for viewer interpretation.
As far as plot goes, it's indiscernible. What Malick seems to be saying is that there is no story in war. War is about nothing in particular. The closest thing that comes to a story is a chunk of the film dedicated to the storming of Guadalcanal. But it's not even really a story. The film is as disjointed as any this year, but where other films would crash and burn with this disjointedness, THE THIN RED LINE succeeds beyond expectations. War is disjointed. There is no beginning, middle, or end. It seems endless, as if years have passed within a week. In capturing the emptiness of war, Malick has attempted a risky move: by the end of the film, we feel as empty and depressed as any character portrayed on screen.
Comparisons to Saving Private Ryan are hard to stay away from, but I will not try to do so. Both deal with the second World War, yet both attempt to accomplish different feats. Spielberg was steadfast about his dream to produce an anti-war picture that showed the graphic nature of real war. For anyone who had never been in a war, they were exposed to the graphic brutality where innocent men were slaughtered by the hundreds. THE THIN RED LINE is also an anti-war film, but instead focuses on the men who fought it. In a decision of bravura, Malick decides not to let any viewer get attached to anyone on screen. Each character is developed enough to make them into more than just one-dimensional cardboard cutouts, but they aren't extracted into fully fleshed-out men. It's a staggering blow to modern-day storytelling in that it works so well.
Perhaps the biggest problem viewers will have with THE THIN RED LINE is the fact that Malick achieves a sense of contemplation. Instead of attacking every sense like Saving Private Ryan did, Malick goes the exact opposite, making you strain to hear dialogue and watch the peacefulness of the surrounding settings. Much of the three-hour long film is dedicated to the profundity of the characters' poetic observations. One man gazes up into the sky as he dies; the camera gives us a point-of-view shot of this man. As he lays there and dies, he (and we) hear the other men being shot down by the enemy. It's more fearful than any horror film ever made. Imagine for a second the overwhelming sense of fear you might get knowing that you are about to die, alone, without a purpose. Malick forces us to feel this.
Feel is an accurate description here, too. In fact, Malick's whole film is about feelings. To date, this is the first film that has made me leave the theater completely empty and devoid of all feelings. I walked around, unknowing of what to make of the film. That night, I realized how powerful the film was. It made me feel exactly like those soldiers must have felt like. Even Saving Private Ryan couldn't achieve that sort of profound abstraction. It's a modern war film of epic proportions. It will take viewers years to realize the beauty and power of the film. Perhaps Malick's film is issuing in a new era of storytelling: one that is done with feelings instead of commercialized storytelling.
Sean Penn is being heralded as the star of the film by its producers, but they would be incorrect. Penn is powerful as First Sgt. Welsh, a serene and weary man whose entire appearance portrays that of indifference. Penn's performance is perfect, balancing a man who has seen everything with the pity as he watches his fellow men die. The real star here is Jim Caviezel, portraying Witt, an AWOL soldier who found peace amidst the natives of an island. However, he is captured by Welsh when an American boat passes by. He is forced into battle, watching in pure horror as the peacefulness of the land he once knew is destroyed by mankind. Nick Nolte gives a stunning performance as Lt. Col. Gordon Tall, adding another great performance to his resume that seems to be getting better as Nolte gets older. An Oscar nomination for Nolte would not be unwarranted. Elias Koteas is strong as a man conflicted between obeying his senior officer's orders and looking out for his own men. John Cusack has some impressive scenes here, many of which test his acting limits. He proves to be as versatile as any actor working today. Ben Chaplin is very good, portraying a man stuck into a war that he never wanted to enter. His flashbacks to his wife are touching and surreal. Cameos from bigger-name stars are a slight distraction, especially John Travolta who doesn't seem to know what to do. George Clooney has such a small part that it's a wonder why his name was even included in the ad campaign. Two other noteworthy performances are from Woody Harrelson and Jared Leto, both working extremely well with the characters they are given.
To call THE THIN RED LINE an entertaining experience would be incorrect. It captures your attention and holds onto it for most of the film. Sometimes the urge to check your watch takes over, but that's only because the film is a completely new experience. I have never really seen a film like this before, and the way Malick goes about telling the story will be difficult for average viewers to grapple with. It's a practice in meditation and thoughtfulness. Voice-overs plague the soundtrack, never once sounding like a tacked-on cliche. The voice-overs stray into the poetic, allowing viewers to contemplate the meaning of war and nature along with the characters. The use of sound is important to the film's success: sometimes it is loud and overbearing, drowning out the voices of the actors, and sometimes it is dead quiet, leaving terror in the hearts of many viewers. Which is more startling? Hearing a loud bang over the soundtrack, or a soundtrack that goes completely quiet? My vote's for the latter.
Malick, after a twenty-year absence from the filmmaking field, has done an astonishing job here, and it's evident in the critical praise it has received. Every award Malick receives will be earned. But as good as his direction is, it doesn't approach the beauty and awe of the cinematography, capturing some of the most haunting images ever. John Toll, the cinematographer, uses the Steadicam to wondrous effect, gliding over the carnage and bloodshed with a gracefulness that counters the frantic mood of the soldiers. His images capture the beauty of nature with assuredness, while capturing the war with jarring perfection. One memorable image has a native taking a walk through his land just minutes before battle ensues. But the most shocking image might just be of a plant folding its leaves when a soldier touches them. It sums up the film entirely. Editors Leslie Jones, Saar Klein, and Billy Weber all should get an Oscar nomination. The juxtaposition of the natural settings and the bloody man-employed war is startling. Picking three editors to do the work is a risky choice, but within the context of the film, it works perfectly. Every cut is managed with careful consideration, and the disjointed feel the film has effectively portrays how it must have felt to be in battle. The orchestral score by Hans Zimmer (quite possibly the busiest composer of 1998) is remarkable, achieving a power that underscores every scene. During one sequence, the music drowns out all the action, and the result is of sheer power. War films don't usually evoke tears from this critic, as I tend to be too angry to cry. But here, tears welled up in my eyes at the sight of the Charlie Company being shot to pieces. The most startling moment in the film occurs after the final battle up the Guadalcanal hill, which served as one of the most important turning points throughout the Pacific war. As the Americans reach the top, they discover the Japanese troops that were shooting at them. The realization that they are just as afraid as the Americans is terrifying. War, in fact, is pointless. "All of this is over a piece of land," as one man puts it. What is a human life worth?
THE THIN RED LINE is rated R for graphic violence, strong language, nudity, and some discreet sex. For those that could handle Saving Private Ryan's violence will be able to make it through this film without trouble. However, Spielberg's film lacks the artistic expressionism that Malick's film does have. Both have their fair share of flaws. Neither is a perfect film, but of the two, Malick's leaves the longer-lasting impression.