Last weekend I saw Out of Sight and Saving Private Ryan. And I was reminded of the difference between movies and cinema. It is possible for a film to be more than just so-much product pumped out by the studios and on to our TVs in ads and marketing in an intensity greater than most of the films come close to deserving. It can be art. Two men made that apparent. The Stevens — Spielberg and Soderbergh. Both did it by moving the form forward by taking some backwards steps. Both made films that will be remembered for years to come, long after The X-Files is remembered as a movie and long after Godzilla and Armageddon are just familiar boxes on the video shelf.
With Out of Sight, Steven Soderbergh makes a giant leap forward as a director. You could see the hints of it before. Obviously, sex, lies and videotape is significant, but it was in so many ways a writer’s and actor’s film. Soderbergh went for style with Kafka, his second film, but failed to hold the story together enough to make it much more than an exercise in style. King of the Hill was a wonderful, loving film, but limited to art houses because it simply wasn’t made for prime time. And The Underneath was very stylish and very interesting, but had no stars to draw a crowd, and the film screamed for multiple viewings before really “getting it.” Soderbergh also did what was basically an experimental film for Universal called Schizopolis and directed a screen version of a Spaulding Gray stage performance called Gray’s Anatomy, but never just the right niche. Until Out of Sight.
The film hits some of the notes of The Underneath, but tells a much cleaner, much simpler story. And that’s not a bad thing. The clean story, from the prolific pen of Elmore Leonard and second-time Elmore adapter, Scott Frank, allowed Soderbergh to add all the visual texture and subtext he could want to add without worrying about the story going wrong. And the look he went for, with the remarkable assistance of cinematographer Elliot Davis, was straight out of the early ’70s, the era that so many feel offered the best cinema of the last 30 years. Grain, complex editing (by the always awesome Anne V. Coates), freeze frames that restart after a beat and visual choices that allowed us to feel that we just watching the actors work when in fact we were watching some intricate camera work.
Plus, the casting was daring, but impossible to imagine differently after seeing the film. Clooney, shucking his “awe shucks” modesty and showing us how much he really wants something while staying cool the whole time. Jennifer Lopez, who besides being celebrated for having the body of a woman, carries herself with a strength that screams superstar. How can you not fall in love with these two falling in love? Ving Rhames, as usual, never hits a wrong note. Don Cheadle has the right words to play, finally, as a modern-day hoodlum. (His great performance as Mouse in Devil in a Blue Dress was in a period piece.) And Steve Zahn makes a great comic foil without losing touch with reality.
This is a serious love story with comic moments. A true romance which no man can put asunder. A love that is strengthened by the difficulties and not diminished by them. And a piece of filmmaking by Soderbergh that reaches beyond just being a movie. The film takes you into its arms early on, even before it’s completely clear what’s going on in the story. It doesn’t matter because you feel like you know each character within seconds of meeting them. You feel Clooney’s frustration through one simple movement, the removal of a tie. Soderbergh makes you feel the moment by hitting the notes that we can all understand. Same with Lopez. We sense her honor from the first moment we meet her. And we sense her vulnerability as Soderbergh takes his time (when’s the last time you saw that?) showing her defenses wear down. We feel her joy and fear and passion and concern when she feels someone passing through the brick wall she’s constructed in front of her heart.
Feeling is unavoidable in Steven Spielberg‘s Saving Private Ryan. There has never been as raw a battle sequence as Spielberg crafts in the opening minutes of this film. The sound alone assaults your ears with a barrage that is overwhelming. Add the men dying. But the deaths are not easy in this film. A man who is shot in the head, causing immediate death, seems almost a relief in this scene. How could you keep your usual sense of humanity with this world of death whirling around you? You can’t. Nor can the viewer. Spielberg did this intentionally, so that the shock of war would be as real to the viewer as it is for the five green soldiers than go on the journey to save Pvt/ Ryan.
Once we finally get off the beach (and believe me, it’s an emotional relief), you realize the entire film has been drained of color. Again, Spielberg did that on purpose, draining most of the color in processing to emulate the documentaries that survived the war. It’s not just some artistic conceit. This is, again, an attempt by the artist to allow his audience to see through new eyes without having to do it consciously. Saving Private Ryan is not a film that glorifies the violence or even the heroism of war. It tries to tell the absolute truth. To honor the men who gave their lives during World War II so that we might be the America we are today (for better or worse). And Spielberg uses every cinemagraphic trick in the book to achieve this. And he succeeds. The performances are strong and the Oscar buzz will be intense. Far more intense than for Out of Sight.
But both of these films and filmmakers understand the history of film and the advantages that previous eras afford the work. In an era that simply barrels forward with computer graphics by any budget necessary, not too many guys are still working with a chisel and a rock. But these men do, certainly taking advantage of some modern technique, but using them only when necessary. They paint the story. They hold you in their hands and take you on their journeys without ever letting you see the strings. And the road is a beautiful one. Art in cinema makes my heart sing. And last weekend, my cardiovascular system was in full aria.
READER OF THE DAY: “You know, I was reading last week about The X-Files, and I was wondering why you didn’t think The X-Files was at least as good as Mulan. I thought it was and better. My mom did not like Mulan for the same reasons that she didn’t like The Lion King, and that is that things like violence and war just don’t fit the G rating as it suggests. It should be more like PG than G. I just need an answer on The X-Files because why can’t it be as good as Mulan. You’re right about the other critics saying Mulan is just another Disney movie, and it’s not. It really is a good movie, just not a really good kids movie. I’ll look for your answer soon. Signed, Zach C., age 13, Movie Buff, X-Files Fan.”

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