Friday 20 March 2020

Film review: 1917 (2020)

A movie I was reluctant to watch. Wounds, gore, bloodshed don't quite agree with me. I have a delicate stomach and a frail disposition. But it is desperate times calling for desperate measures to keep one from worse imaginings. The plot really can be summed up in just one line. Remember that poem "How they brought the good news from Ghent to Aix"? Someone has to send a message of life saving implications somewhere, before daybreak, without which there will be defeat and death. That someone rides a horse, and the poem recounts the story of bravado in galloping meter. We are not told what the message was though.
1917 has exactly the same plot. Only we know the message. A message to call off a planned attack on the Germans by the British forces, which is a trap laid to annihilate 1600 soldiers - must be delivered before dawn by two British corporals. The troop at risk also includes the brother of one of the messengers.
How the film is shot demonstrates the kind of genius the cinematographer Deakins and the director Mendes have leveraged for the movie. I watched agape the seamless single shots spanning minutes on end, reinforcing the illusion that my eyes were watching the events unfold right in real time. And that there were no scene breaks. The narration is such that you become one blending within the frames. Miles of trenches were created, cameras were mounted on multiple cranes, with highly sophisticated handheld cameras being carried on shoulders by the crew, with Deakins following them. They rehearsed for days to get the perfect shots. For certain shots they had limited ammunition to show bombs blasts. They couldn't afford retakes. To create the perfect flare lighting for night shots, they even erected moving cranes carrying actual flares.
There is minimal dialogue. Much of the emotions are expressed through non verbal expressions. The ruthlessness of wars, the pathos of the times, the resignation of soldiers, and the commitment of some - all come alive. I was reminded of Owen, Sassoon, Brooke and Dylan Thomas and realised how lifelike were their poetic presentations. Colin Firth and Benedict Cumberbatch appear in cameos. The two foot soldiers are the real heroes, showcasing all that is good in the human world, yet helpless against the greedy aggression of mammoth political powers.
–----------------------------------------
One poem that I wanted to read again after watching this is what I wanted to share with you.
"After every war
someone has to clean up.
Things won’t
straighten themselves up, after all.
Someone has to push the rubble
to the side of the road,
so the corpse-filled wagons
can pass.
Someone has to get mired
in scum and ashes,
sofa springs,
splintered glass,
and bloody rags.
Someone has to drag in a girder
to prop up a wall.
Someone has to glaze a window,
rehang a door.
Photogenic it’s not,
and takes years.
All the cameras have left
for another war.
We’ll need the bridges back,
and new railway stations.
Sleeves will go ragged
from rolling them up.
Someone, broom in hand,
still recalls the way it was.
Someone else listens
and nods with unsevered head.
But already there are those nearby
starting to mill about
who will find it dull.
From out of the bushes
sometimes someone still unearths
rusted-out arguments
and carries them to the garbage pile.
Those who knew
what was going on here
must make way for
those who know little.
And less than little.
And finally as little as nothing.
In the grass that has overgrown
causes and effects,
someone must be stretched out
blade of grass in his mouth
gazing at the clouds."
- The End and the Beginning
By Wislawa Szymborska

Translated by Joanna Trzeciak

No comments:

Post a Comment