bigpurplebear
Se unió el mar 2001
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There's a clumsiness to 1965's "None But The Brave" that you really shouldn't let get in your way of the film. The clumsiness is due to Frank Sinatra's direction -- he was a far, far better actor than a director, and wisely chose never to direct another film -- and it exposes itself most prominently in the film's heavy-handed "flashback" sequences.
Having gotten that out of the way, let's consider the film itself. World War II, a small island in the Pacific: a group of marooned GIs find themselves sharing space with an equally marooned group of Japanese soldiers. Reluctantly, a truce evolves; each side has something the other needs. During that truce, enemies develop -- if not a true friendship -- at least an understanding, an empathy, and a respect for, each other. This truce, of course, cannot endure. The outside world -- and the war -- must impose itself, and each side reacts according to its own sense of honor and duty. Rightly so.
Some reviewers have chosen to label this an 'anti-war' film. Perhaps it is. Myself, I prefer to think of it, rather, as a 'pro-humanity' film, one which recognizes that man will pit himself against man time and time again, and for reasons that may or may not be the best, but that -- in the end -- we can, each of us, even in the midst of the most horrific conflict imaginable, step away, even if only for the briefest of moments (or truces), and deal with each other as human beings.
That's what happens in "None But The Brave."
And if the ending is less than satisfactory, maybe it serves to makes us each wish for a better one . . . and a better world!
Having gotten that out of the way, let's consider the film itself. World War II, a small island in the Pacific: a group of marooned GIs find themselves sharing space with an equally marooned group of Japanese soldiers. Reluctantly, a truce evolves; each side has something the other needs. During that truce, enemies develop -- if not a true friendship -- at least an understanding, an empathy, and a respect for, each other. This truce, of course, cannot endure. The outside world -- and the war -- must impose itself, and each side reacts according to its own sense of honor and duty. Rightly so.
Some reviewers have chosen to label this an 'anti-war' film. Perhaps it is. Myself, I prefer to think of it, rather, as a 'pro-humanity' film, one which recognizes that man will pit himself against man time and time again, and for reasons that may or may not be the best, but that -- in the end -- we can, each of us, even in the midst of the most horrific conflict imaginable, step away, even if only for the briefest of moments (or truces), and deal with each other as human beings.
That's what happens in "None But The Brave."
And if the ending is less than satisfactory, maybe it serves to makes us each wish for a better one . . . and a better world!
"There has to be a cure for the common war." This quote (Alan Alda as "Hawkeye" Pierce, MD) best states the theme common to both "MASH" (the movie) and "MASH" (the TV spin-off).
This, in many ways, is the only thing common to the series and the movie which spawned it. The movie (and the novel which inspired it) is much more savage in its outrage against a war and a governmental system which exemplifies "man's inhumanity to man" and at the same time expects medical practitioners to support it; doctors and nurses (both of them sworn to duty, not only by the Hippocratic Oath but by an oath to the Armed Forces) strive to repair their patients and, wherever possible, return them to duty for further savagery (an echo, perhaps, of "Captain Newman, M.D.?"). This TV series, however, rises beyond the initial sense of outrage and presents a possibility as to where the various characters might have gone with their outrage.
There is as yet no cure for the common war. There will, most likely, never be. This particular TV series, however, dares to posit the belief that there may be, at least, a means of coping and -- once we've got that straight -- a means of hoping.
This, in many ways, is the only thing common to the series and the movie which spawned it. The movie (and the novel which inspired it) is much more savage in its outrage against a war and a governmental system which exemplifies "man's inhumanity to man" and at the same time expects medical practitioners to support it; doctors and nurses (both of them sworn to duty, not only by the Hippocratic Oath but by an oath to the Armed Forces) strive to repair their patients and, wherever possible, return them to duty for further savagery (an echo, perhaps, of "Captain Newman, M.D.?"). This TV series, however, rises beyond the initial sense of outrage and presents a possibility as to where the various characters might have gone with their outrage.
There is as yet no cure for the common war. There will, most likely, never be. This particular TV series, however, dares to posit the belief that there may be, at least, a means of coping and -- once we've got that straight -- a means of hoping.
I finished reading Doctorow's novel just before it was announced that production had started on the movie. I remember thinking, "How the hell do you make a movie of a book where the central characters are named 'Mother,' 'Father,' and 'Mother's Younger Brother?'"
Milos Forman showed how: In a word, beautifully.
And "Ragtime" is beautiful, stunning in its recreation of early 1900s New York, utilizing a script which somehow ties together the central events and their effects on its main characters as well as one of the finest, most haunting soundtracks (Randy Newman, who went so far as to compose several original 'ragtime' numbers) in the past twenty years, topped off with a first-rate cast.
James Cagney was the big news, of course, and deservedly so: Emerging from twenty years of retirement, he showed that he'd not only not lost anything but had added to his expertise. Add Mary Steenburgen, Mandy Patinkin, James Olsen, Howard Rollins, Keith McMillan and even Elizabeth McGovern (each of them perfectly cast), to name but a few, and you see where Forman wasn't missing a bet.
"Ragtime" suffers, ultimately, due to lapses in editing -- the most grievous lapse the cutting of a short scene which explains Commissioner Waldo's motivation behind the action he ultimately takes with Coalhouse Walker. Some cuts are always necessarily (especially in a movie as sprawling as this), yet that cut -- and several others -- flaw this beauty of a film.
But not fatally. Not at all. More than twenty years later, "Ragtime" is still gorgeous.
Milos Forman showed how: In a word, beautifully.
And "Ragtime" is beautiful, stunning in its recreation of early 1900s New York, utilizing a script which somehow ties together the central events and their effects on its main characters as well as one of the finest, most haunting soundtracks (Randy Newman, who went so far as to compose several original 'ragtime' numbers) in the past twenty years, topped off with a first-rate cast.
James Cagney was the big news, of course, and deservedly so: Emerging from twenty years of retirement, he showed that he'd not only not lost anything but had added to his expertise. Add Mary Steenburgen, Mandy Patinkin, James Olsen, Howard Rollins, Keith McMillan and even Elizabeth McGovern (each of them perfectly cast), to name but a few, and you see where Forman wasn't missing a bet.
"Ragtime" suffers, ultimately, due to lapses in editing -- the most grievous lapse the cutting of a short scene which explains Commissioner Waldo's motivation behind the action he ultimately takes with Coalhouse Walker. Some cuts are always necessarily (especially in a movie as sprawling as this), yet that cut -- and several others -- flaw this beauty of a film.
But not fatally. Not at all. More than twenty years later, "Ragtime" is still gorgeous.