MUNICH II – Eric Bana
On the positive side, for the first time since Bruce feasted along the New England coast Spielberg has made a film in which the strings are only sporadically visible. The fact that he had to rush through production in order to have Munich ready by year’s end — this is reportedly the first film he has directed without relying on storyboards — helped to give this philosophical actioner an edge it might otherwise have lacked. The film’s technical aspects are generally first-rate, while John Williams provides what could well be both the most understated and the most effective score of his career.
And since the film in question is a thriller, Spielberg and editor Michael Kahn keep the action moving at a steady pace. Its nearly three-hour running time notwithstanding, Munich is never dull. The set up for the bombing sequences, for instance, is as suspenseful as that of any good crime caper, but with a crucial difference: There’s a gravity to the proceedings that prevents us from actually enjoying the suspense.
Spielberg, Kushner, and Roth (it’s impossible to pinpoint who was responsible for certain key elements in the film) must also be given credit for humanizing Munich’s Arab characters. In the film’s climactic moment, the look in the eyes of the Palestinian terrorist who is about to slaughter the Israeli athletes is not one of hatred, but of despair. (Paradoxically, by making the terrorist recognizably human Spielberg makes his actions all the more horrific.)
And even though Munich maintains its focus on the Jewish side — the film’s chief victims and its nominal hero are Israelis — the filmmakers make a point of presenting the other side as well. One Arab character, for example, mentions 200 Palestinian refugees killed by Israel, while a Jewish character reminds us that Jews also had to fight and kill in order to create their nation-state. If we see Avner’s mother (Gila Almagor) telling her son, "We have a place on Earth at last, whatever it takes," we also get to see a dignified-looking PLO member (Omar Metwally) telling Avner that Palestinians are willing to sacrifice themselves for generations to come because "home is everything."
In another fine touch, Spielberg never makes the deadly attacks against the Arab targets either exciting or titillating. In Saving Private Ryan, violence was also depicted in all its ugliness during the Normandy invasion sequence, but the victims were invariably the Allied soldiers. In later scenes, when Americans killed Germans they were simply defending themselves, and when they didn’t they were making a big mistake. What a difference seven years make. In Munich, violence, whether directed against Israelis or Arabs, terrorists or civilians, is invariably ugly and shocking. It degrades both the victims and the perpetrators. After one Arab man is torn to pieces by a bomb, Spielberg makes sure we see parts of his body dangling from the ceiling. Whether or not that man had indeed been a terrorist is irrelevant at that point. The horror and the disgust one feels at the bloody outcome are supposed to be the same.
Like David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence, Munich reminds us that the use of force comes at a hefty price, and — in a clear allusion to today’s world and U.S. policies in particular — that societies who compromise ethical values for the sake of political or ideological expediency may be sacrificing much more than a few paragraphs of national and international regulations. If only the director and screenwriters had stood on such firm ground at every level. Instead, when dealing with the realm of the personal the filmmakers — this is Hollywood, after all — insist that viewers sympathize with the film’s tortured hero-assassin.
Handsome, beefy, intelligent, sensitive, and family-oriented, Avner is the ideal embodiment of all that is good about Jews everywhere. He is so devoted to his wife that even after years on the road he refuses to have a night fling with Marie-Josée Croze’s Dutch seductress. His is the point of view we are supposed to share. But instead of making him someone who could both intrigue and repel us, Spielberg and company want us to love the Mossad agent and feel sorry for his angst. Thus, we’re offered a series of hokey family moments that allow him to display positive human emotions in between assassinations. (Avner’s sobbing phone scene while talking to his baby daughter is an embarrassment to watch. Mercifully, no other character in the film is allowed that emotional luxury.)
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Tags: Eric Bana, Eric Roth, Film Reviews, Munich, Steven Spielberg, Tony Kushner
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