Director Report Card: Steven Spielberg (1998)

21. Saving Private Ryan

Steven Spielberg grew up listening to his father's war stories, which gave him a life-long fascination with World War II. This interest peaked when Tom Hanks brought Spielberg a project written by Robert Rodat. Inspired by the story of the Niland brothers – four siblings who served in the war, two dying at Normandy and one presumed dead in Burma, forcing the return of the fourth – Rodat's screenplay had been circulating in Hollywood for several years. Spielberg initially envisioned the project as a nostalgic adventure film. After meeting with a number of actual veterans of the D-Day invasion, Spielberg's intentions changed. He decided to make "Saving Private Ryan" as realistic a war film as had ever been made, to thoroughly deglamorize the conflict. The result would be critically acclaimed, became the highest grossing film of 1998, win Spielberg his second Best Director Oscar, and is still regarded as one of his best works.

On June 6th, 1944, Captain John H. Miller is but one of a hundred American soldiers landing on Omaha Beach. Miller manages to make it behind enemy lines, taking control of a group of scattered soldiers. Once in Normandy, Miller and his team are given a mission: Three of the four Ryan brothers from Iowa have been killed in action. The fourth, James Ryan, is reported missing. Miller and his team – including an inexperienced translator named Upham – are tasked with finding Ryan and returning him home. The group question their duty as they march through France, facing heavy resistance and losses along the way.

"Saving Private Ryan" has been most acclaimed for its opening sequence, depicting the Normandy landing. Rightfully so, as it's one of the most startling sequences of Spielberg's entire career. The combat zone is depicted as Hell on earth, the beach littered with dead bodies and utter chaos. Surreal, grisly sights play out all around Miller, such as a soldier fruitlessly searching for his severed arm or another man being saved by his helmet only to have his brains blown out the second he removes it. A man he's talking to one minute has no face the next. Spielberg drags us through this mayhem, Miller's shell-shocked reaction re-enforced by several slow-motion pans over the chaos. We feel the bullets zip pass our heads, the heat from the flames, the shock waves from the explosions. Once it's finally over, the viewer can't help but feel their heart thump. The sequence does everything it can to make sure the audience feels the sheer terror the soldiers felt on that beach, on that day.

If "Saving Private Ryan" accomplishes nothing else, it thoroughly dismisses the myth that there's any glory in dying on the battlefield. One of the film's most unforgettable moment involves a young soldier laying in the water and sand, his intestines spooling from his belly, as he screams for his mother. Later, one of Miller's men is fatally shot. As he slowly bleeds to death, he begs for morphine simply to ease the pain. As he fades away, he also begs for his mama. These men, like so many in any war, died horribly. As their bodies were torn apart and they faced their last minutes alive, they weren't thinking about honor or their country. They just wanted the awful pain to stop, to feel loved and comforted and safe when they knew nothing of the sort was coming.

If there's no glory in actually dying in war, "Saving Private Ryan" seems determined to show there's no honor in combat either. The American soldiers here are frequently depicted doing terrible things. After marching across the beach, a group of German soldiers come to them, asking to be taken prisoner. Instead, they are gunned down, their pleas ignored. We watch the burning bodies of men crawl out of enemy bunkers, the Americans instructed to "let them burn." Later, when Miller's team captures a German soldier, an argument breaks out over whether taking him prisoner or killing him is the proper thing to do. It's not right. It's not ethical. War robs men of their humanity, hardens their hearts, and makes them disposed to do terrible things.

Of course, these actions aren't performed in a vacuum. Each man is terrified for his life, knowing the other side is doing everything they can to kill them too. "Saving Private Ryan" isn't just committed to showing the visceral effects of combat but the psychological ramifications as well. As they approach the beach, multiple soldiers are depicted as vomiting from anxiety or trembling with fear. After successfully surviving the landing, Miller's most sarcastic soldier breaks down into sobs. The captain himself experiences an unexplained shakiness in his hand all throughout the film, the constant stress of being overseas, of his life always being in danger, clearly taking its toll. Later, another principal character is paralyzed with terror, reduced to a blubbering child. These are ordinary people, tossed into an impossible situation, and their psyches can't survive such a strain, even if their bodies do.

So many war movies have been built around the concept of brotherhood among soldiers in combat, that we basically take the idea for granted now. If a group of guys are going on a mission together, it's almost a given that they'll form a bond before it's over. (Making the inevitable loss unavoidable in war all the more tragic.) Yet “Saving Private Ryan” considers what this camaraderie really means. The script is well aware of the trope, as Upham tells the men on this mission with him that he's writing a book on this exact subject, to which he gets sarcastically rebuffed. Yet these men do share a special bond, crying out as they watch one of their own slowly bleed out from sniper fire. “Saving Private Ryan” examines the fact that these bonds are so strong precisely because these guys are on the verge of death every minute together.

Something else that the soldiers bond over is their mutual resentment of Private James Ryan. It takes very little time for the men to start to wonder what makes this guy – off-screen for most of the movie – any more special than them. As soon as their brothers-in-arms start to die, this resentment becomes very real. The idea of rescuing another man, of risking your own life for someone's well fair, is probably the most easily understood concept of heroism. Much like the brotherly bonds formed on the battlefield, “Saving Private Ryan” really asks us to consider the price of heroism. If bringing another mother's son home is a heroic deed, it also means other mothers and fathers will loose their sons. It's an ugly sacrifice that puts the inherit unfairness of war, the brutality of such an act, into sharp reflect.

This becomes especially clear in the very final scene, when the film returns to its framing device in the modern day. When Ryan, now as an old man, walks to the Normandy Memorial cemetery and collapses at the grave of Captain Miller. He asks his wife if he's “a good man” and it's a question full of implications. Captain Miller asked him to honor the sacrifices he and his men made for Ryan's sake, to live a good life. Yet how can anyone really live up to such a promise? What truly makes one man worth more than any other? The answer is, obviously, nothing. Ryan's life wasn't worth more than anyone else's, because he's a man just like any other person. He has to grapple with that for the rest of his life.

It's not difficult to figure out why this story would resonate with Spielberg specifically. No reoccurring theme has defined the director's career more than the idea of family, of the cost of it being broken and the value when it's complete. One of the few scenes outside of the European Theater in “Saving Private Ryan” emphasizes this clearly. We watch from the interior of the Ryan household as we see the men arrive to tell the mother three of her four boys are dead. She silently collapses to her knees. It's a short scene but it makes abundantly clear the devastating effect the war had on the home front. Family – clearly the most precious thing of all to Spielberg – was totally destroyed by the conflict. It makes the global, political ramifications of World War II feel all the more personal and intimate.

The desire to make the audience feel a personal connection to the war does not end there. Spielberg's direction and Janusz Kamiński's cinematography is determined to put the viewer right in the middle of combat. The camera work often involves shaky close-ups on the actors and their environments. This creates a documentary-like flavor, making the blast from the bombs and the everyone's tremors of fear transcend the theater screen and reach the viewer. When focused on a soldier's hand as it stiffens up in the rain, blood pooling around him, it feels especially striking. Any war movie attempting to explores the horrors of the battlefield has to contend with the unavoidable fact that action sequences are exciting to watch on-screen. Spielberg can't overcome this totally. Yet "Saving Private Ryan" emphasizes the brutality of the violence and the terror of everyone involved to make its point. When you see heads tore off by machine gun fire or watch as our company of boys are almost crushed by an incoming tank, you react with horror, not anticipation.

Of course, Spielberg is not simply interested in brutality. The director has a fundamentally sentimental heart. His best movies balance out this fondness for home, family  and gentle humanity and the darkness of the world, the inevitability of death and heartbreak. This is certainly very true of "Saving Private Ryan." Some of the film's most effecting scenes, in retrospective, are its quietest. Such as Miller discussing the mission with his team inside the silent darkness of a church. Or, pointedly, a moment before the action packed climax. Ryan sits down with the rest of the troops and listens to a German love song. He tells a story about a flirtatious encounter with a busty woman in his mother's shop. Memories like that is what got him, and many boys overseas, through the war. You see this in Adrian Caparzo's insistence in protecting a young French girl, as she reminds him of his niece. "Saving Private Ryan" is all about how family, how the peace you have at home with the people you love, is worth preserving even in the face of the indescribable horrors of war. Moments like this emphasize that. 

Tom Hanks being cast as Captain Miller makes great use of his all-American persona as the Nicest Guy in Hollywood. We learn, late in the film, that Miller was a school teacher and a baseball coach back home, something that seemed very natural and obvious to everyone at the time. This is in contrast to Miller's persona on the battlefield, which is hardened and determined to complete the mission. This is certainly an intentional contrast to Hanks' wholesome public image. These were the kind of men deployed overseas: Fathers, husbands, normal guys plucked out of small towns and dropped into the middle of a hellish war. They were forced to make the hardest decisions a person can make and subsequently lost their innocence. Seeing Hanks thrust into this part is a brilliant stroke that shows what is at stakes in the film. Miller is honorable and duty-driven, qualities that we all can aspire to, but Hanks' weary performance makes it clear that attribute comes as a hideous cost. 

Hanks is supported by a great line-up of character actors. Tom Sizemore's intense mixture of chumminess and subtly off putting edge is perfectly served in the role of Mike Horvath, another battle-hardened soldier who does many questionable things but remains his humanity. Adam Goldberg is similarly ideally cast as the sarcastic "Fish" Mellish, who is nevertheless given several opportunities to really show off his skills as a serious actor. The fresh-faced boyish of Jeremy Davis, the squinty-eyed intensity of Barry Pepper, and the Hollywood star smile and good looks of Matt Damon all totally serve their roles. Even smaller parts are filled with soon-to-be-recognized faces like Vin Diesel, Bryan Cranston, and Nathan Fillion. I guess it's not surprising that Steven Spielberg and the team he surrounds himself with can recognize stardom when they see it, instinctively honing in on the best qualities an actor has. 

As you've probably come to expect, Spielberg would recruit John Williams to provide "Saving Private Ryan" with a fittingly sweeping score. The main title music is a majestic composition characterized by soaring, if slightly mournful, horns and a militaristic drum beat. It's a very patriotic piece of music, exactly summoning the mood of a movie about honor in war and the sacrifice of soldiers. It's almost too perfect, too professional, a score. Spielberg smartly, much as he did in "Schindler's List," makes the scenes without music just as meaningful as those with it. Most of the battle scenes don't feature Williams' score, understanding that the noise and chaos of the battlefield is the best way to convey the mood the movie is going for. Williams' music tugs at the heartstrings. The composer is extremely good at getting that kind of reaction. But that earnestness only works when contrasted with the film's brutality, which is why the movie saves Williams' grandiose music for the quieter moments, when it can make the proper impact. 

In modern parlance, "Saving Private Ryan" is an unlikely blockbuster. It's a serious, adult movie that grapples with serious subjects in an even-handed, mature way, never sacrificing the ruthlessness of its setting. Not the kind of thing you'd expect to make 428 million dollars in 2023. Yet the film was a phenomenon in 1998. It reignited interest in World War II while also generating a visceral emotional reaction in many of the surviving vets that saw it. The film seems to be highly regarded as one of the few war movies to truly capture the feeling of being in combat, the complex reactions that produce in the human psyche. That complexity is what I most admire about "Saving Private Ryan." It doesn't simplify the war into a battle between good and evil, in service of ra-ra jingoism. It shows that people died in horrible ways and that war compromises even the best hearts. Yet it also shines a line on the best qualities people can have, that linger on in spite of – not because of – the things that are done on the battlefield. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Steven Spielberg (1997) Part Two

20. Amistad

The mid-nineties were a turning point for Steven Spielberg. In 1994, he split his time between special effects driven blockbuster “Jurassic Park” and “Schindler's List,” a harrowing drama about important historical events. From this point on, it would become increasingly common for Spielberg to balance out popcorn movies with weightier dramas. In 1997, we would see this happen again. Six months after “The Lost World: Jurassic Park” was unleashed on the world, “Amistad” would see general release. It was also a historical drama about human perseverance in the face of atrocities. While people continue to debate the merits of the film, most agree that “Amistad” is not as good as “Schindler's List.”

In 1839, Spanish scooner La Amistad is illegally transporting African slaves through the waters around the Atlantic. Mende tribesman Cinque successfully leads a revolt among the slaves, killing all but two of the crew. In the waters around Cuba, the ship is boarded by American forces and the mutineers arrested. A landmark trial soon springs up around Cinque and the other men. Abolitionists Lewis Tappon and Theodore Joadson, a former slave himself, represent in the men in court. They seek the help of eccentric lawyer Roger Sherman Baldwin and former president John Quincy Adams. Competing forces, from the Queen of Spain to the U.S. men who found the boat, challenge the assumption that these human beings have any rights at all. A landmark trial ensues.

If “Amistad” has nothing else in its favor, the film has a hell of an opening scene. It begins in darkness. Cinque bloodies his fingers digging a nail out of the wood in the cramped interior of the boat, which is conveyed through a series of tense close-ups. He uses the nail to pick the locks on his chain. As the freed slaves gather weapons and emerge from inside the ship, it is pouring down rain. Lightning crashes, illuminating the scene. We see the deck of the ship become red with blood, as the slavers are attacked and their sails are slashed. It's such a grim, grisly sequence, feeling almost like a horror movie, and immediately establishes what is at stake here through virtuoso filmmaking. 

The strongest moments in “Amistad” continue to focus on the experiences of Cinque and those like him. In court, as he relates his memories of what happened while crossing the ocean. This represents “Amistad's” most harrowing scenes. We see Cinque abducted from his village. We see him dragged through the slave market, dehumanized and humiliated. He's packed, naked, into the bowels of the slave ship. When the crew fear they'll be discovered, they drop their “cargo” into the ocean. Which means human beings are chained together and pulled into the ocean to die. While “Amistad” is never as agonizingly brutal as “Schindler's List,” these are the moments when Spielberg's film comes the closest to capturing the horrors of the slave trade on-screen.

Unfortunately, as much as “Amistad” feels like it should've been a companion piece to “Schindler's List,” an example of Spielberg using all his skills as a filmmaker to make a documentary-style film about a horrible historical nightmare that ended countless lives... This isn't that movie. Instead, “Amistad” fits comfortably into the white savior narrative that Hollywood filmmakers just can't quit. Cinque is ultimately not the hero of this story. He's not even really the protagonist. Cinque, his fellow Mende tribesman, and the other Africans are portrayed as victims of a system they have no control over. The white men who won their legal case, Baldwin and Adams, end up driving the narrative. Joadson, the other prominent black character in the story, is even repeatedly sidelined in favor of the white men. 

It's disappointed to see Spielberg fall so totally into this unfortunate tendency. Especially when Cinque repeatedly emerges as the most interesting character in the film. His story about killing a lion back in Africa, told through a translator, proves to be a potent metaphor for how he doesn't feel he deserves a heroic title. His discussion with Adams about the spirits of ancestors is another strong moment. Djimon Hounsou's performance remains one of raw power throughout. Yet “Amistad” frustratingly refuses to center Cinque in this story. The film even goes so far as to include a lengthy sequence where one of the tribesman seemingly converts to Christianity, after learning to read the Bible and after mocking the dour missionaries who plead their case. That's makes this almost a literal white savior movie!

If I'm being cynical, it would be easy to call “Amistad” Oscar bait. To assume that, after finally getting some love from the Academy, Spielberg wanted some more. The film seems designed to deliver these big, emotional moments that would look great as clips during the Oscar broadcast. Such as Cinque standing up during the trial, shouting out to be given his freedom. Or John Quincy Adams' lengthy closing arguments, a long-winded monologue from Anthony Hopkins. John Williams' typically grandiose score blares during these moments, as if to sell the audience further on the emotional impact. It all feels a little too calculated, a little too sentimental. Like a blatant attempt to tug on our heartstrings. 

The miscalculation inherent in “Amistad” is most apparent in its closing montage, that moment in the fact based drama where the rest of the characters' lives are summed up with text on the screen.  We see the British admiral, who got a big moment on the witness stand earlier in the movement, destroy the slave fort in Sierra Leone. It's a big triumphant moment, this symbol of systemic oppression and horrible racism being pulled down and destroyed. Yet when we get the update on Cinque's life, we learn that he was never reunited with his own family, who were likely sold into slavery too. It's not like the legal victory in the Amistad case brought an end to slavery and all the horrors it wrought. The inspiration vibes that movie is aiming for seem misplaced in so many ways.

That same postscript montage includes a flash forward to the Civil War, shown as the inevitable climax of the tensions discussed throughout “Amistad.” The impending threat of civil war over the slavery question is repeatedly brought up throughout the film, even being shown as a factor in President Van Buren pulling support of the abolitionists. Historians, on the other hand, have pointed out that this actually wasn't much of a concern in 1839. The Civil War wouldn't happen for another twenty years. The Amistad trial was, in fact, never really about slavery in America. The case dealt with the illegality of transatlantic slavery, which had no effect on the slave trade here in this country. The movie mentions this but only in the most casual of ways. Instead, it pretends that this one court case was a battle for the soul of America, instead of a mere footnote that proceeded two whole decades of slavery and countless lives destroyed.

As misplaced as “Amistad's” convictions may be, you can't say it's not a well made movie. At this point in his career, Spielberg only worked with the best and brightest. Janusz Kaminski's cinematography is gorgeous. There's a number of striking visuals throughout, such as a close-up on a judge's gavel coming down or Adams pushing a plant into the rays of the sun. There's some clever editing too, such as a cross-cut between a man's face and the face of a doll held by the queen of Spain. John Williams' score is, of course, full of rousing themes and powerful strings. All the costumes and production designs are excellent. There's no doubt that every dollar of the film's budget is up on the screen.

Another way to tell “Amistad” is a movie with a white savior complex is that it stars Matthew McConaughey. This is a year after the star played a very similar role in “A Time to Kill.” McConaughey gets the kind of showy moments you'd expect from this script, delivering several stirring dissertations about freedom and such. McConaughey is at his best, as he usually is, when playing up the characters more eccentric elements. Most notably during a scene where he negotiates the case while eating dinner. Morgan Freeman is, disappointingly, not given nearly enough to do in the role of Joadman. (A, by the way, fictional character inspired by the real historical figure of James Forten.) It's easy to imagine a much stronger version of this story told from Joadman's perspective, a freed slave navigating the racial politics of the 1830s. 

Alongside Freeman in several scenes is Stellan Skarsgård as Lewis Tappan, who is most compelling when bringing a more uncertain edge to the material. Even though Hounsou is top-billed, and essentially the main character, Anthony Hopkins emerges the star of the show more often. Hopkins, applying an interesting American accent, certainly knows all the right notes to hit to make the dialogue sing. He's too much of a professional not to, even if Hopkins' style of showboating feels at odds with the emotional needs of a story like this. Pete Postlethwaite and David Paymer are comforting presences in antagonistic roles, while I got a kick out of seeing a young Chiwetel Ejiofor in his first role as the translator. 

If Oscar gold was the intent behind “Amistad,” it didn't quite work out. The film received nominations for Kaminsky's cinematography, Williams' score, and its costumes, alongside a nod in the Supporting Actor for Hopkins. It would win none of these and, in general, the critical reception for the film was more mildly positive than enthusiastic. In the years since, “Amistad” has become one of Spielberg's more overlooked films. While I'd like to say it's a hidden gem, the truth is this one doesn't quite work. It's less sentimental than “The Color Purple” but less emotionally involving. It lacks the power of “Schindler's List,” with a far more uneven relationship with actual history. Despite some strong performances and stronger filmmaking from Spielberg and his team, “Amistad” is ultimately held back by clichés. [Grade: C+]

RECENT WATCHES: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem (2023)

From my lofty position as a “geriatric millennial,”  I have seen the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise evolve through far more iterations than I ever expected. After the heady heights of Turtle-Mania in the early nineties, when Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird's scrappy indie comic had become a massive pop culture phenomenon, the series seemed to retreat from the public eye, the way any fad does eventually. By the time the frankly embarrassing "The Next Mutation" was airing, being into TMNT was just about the lamest thing possible. Yet, surprisingly, the Turtles have become one of those kid brands that continuously get resurrected every few years. Since my own childhood, I've seen three new television series and four additional theatrical films join the franchise. The latest of which is "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem," only the second animated film in the series to hit theaters. Fascinatingly, the Heroes on the Half-Shell have gone through just about every step of the reboot cycle, arriving back at the goofy, kid-friendly phase.

Many things change but some elements remain consistent. The turtles always became mutants thanks to a mysterious green ooze. They are always Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michaelangelo. They always live in the New York sewers with their father figure, Splinter the Rat. In "Mutant Mayhem," the boys long to join human society, feeling cloistered by the secretive life style their father insists on. When a villain called Superfly begins to torment the city, the Turtles see their chance to become heroes and be accepted by humanity. This goal gets closer as they become friends with April O'Neil, a teenage reporter determined to crack the Superfly case. Yet the Ninja Teens are shocked to discover that Superfly is, like them, a mutated animal with a whole gang of similar partners. The young heroes must decide if they want to help the villain fulfill his grudge against humanity or fight for what's right.

Not too long ago, I opined that "Into the Spider-Verse"  is one of the most immediately influential films in animation history. "Mutant Mayhem" is the latest entry in the growing list of high-profile projects to emulate that movie's combination of CGI and traditional animation techniques. Here, this manifests as a painterly style, colorful and slightly messy strokes visible on just about every surface and character. The result combines the fluidity of CGI animation with the personality and artistry of hand-drawn works. This invokes the Turtles' roots as a gritty, home-made indie comic. The character designs in "Mutant Mayhem" are lovably grotesque, with bulging eyes, a diversity of body shapes, and innumerable little details and quirks. This universe feels lived-in, a fully realized New York full of gunk and graffiti. The characters have a somewhat sketchy quality to them that feels unique on the modern, big budget animation landscape.

This combination of styles is, naturally, a great fit for some amusingly chaotic action sequences. The highlight of the film is a montage, which breathlessly cuts between the Turtles cracking down on various criminal elements, which represents the animation team truly flexing their muscles. This style lends itself as much to physical comedy as it does thrills though. Another notable moment is a delightfully goofy car chase, set to one of the film's many nostalgic needle drops. (This scene is also the closest we're likely to ever get to a big screen TMNT/Masters of the Universe crossover.) You also see this approach in a close-quarters scuffle in an auto shop, representing the turtles' first awkward steps towards becoming crime-fighters. The peak of this fusion of comedy and action occurs when Splinter – lovingly voiced by Jackie Chan – emerges from his hiding place to help his boys. The resulting scene pays homage to Chan's history as an action cinema innovator in a truly unexpected and fantastically giddy fashion.

What truly differentiates each iteration of the Turtles from each other are how they approach the titular terrapins. "Mutant Mayhem" emphasizes the “Teenage” part the most. The four reptile martial artists long to be accepted, to attend high school like normal kids. They goof around and tell silly jokes. Leonardo harbors an awkward crush on April while Raphael deals with unbridled emotions. In what can be seen as either an obnoxious attempt to make these almost forty year old characters appeal to the modern youths, or a decent leap at updating things, the Turtles are often on their cellphones. They watch Youtube videos. Mikey twerks in one scene. Whether you find modern pop culture references like this – there are many – fitting or annoying depends on your tolerance for zoomer antics, I suppose. More often than not, I thought it was cute. 

If I have any problem with the movie, it's not that the story strays too much from established “Turtles” lore. Instead, I find the script to be a little too linear in its construction. Each member of the cast has a structured character arc. Raph has to learn to handle his rage. Donnie masters his driving skills. April overcomes her fear of being on-camera. Splinter learns to be a better, more open dad. It's all a little too compact and fine-tuned, in my opinion. This even extends to the residence of New York City, who learn a valuable lesson about acceptance in a last act that felt a bit overextended and belabored. 

Still, “Mutant Mayhem” is mostly a highly entertaining motion picture. For long time Turtle Fanatics like myself, there's plenty of nods to the franchise's long history. It's a hoot to see long-loved characters like Mondo Gecko or Wingnut finally on-screen, even re-imagined in these highly new variations. (The former, voiced by Paul Rudd, is especially amusing.) Animation fans are likely to have a good time with this and I imagine kids will dig the fast-paced action and storytelling. Obviously, plenty of breadcrumbs are left for a sequel and, considering the movie's positive reception and decent box office, hopefully we'll get more “Mayhem” soon enough. [7/10]