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A
Very Welcome Enemy at the Gates
Cast:
Jude
Law, Joseph Fiennes,
Rachel
Weisz, Ed Harris,
Bob
Hoskins, Ron Perlman,
Gabriel
Thomson, Eva Mattes,
Matthias
Habich, Sophie Rois
Directed
by Jean-Jacques Annaud
Written
by Jean-Jacques Annaud & Alain Godard
MPAA:
Rated R for strong graphic war violence and some sexuality.
Information from the Internet Movie Database
Rejoice, fellow film-fans! After several lean, dry weeks,
there is something worth traveling to the megaplex to see, Enemy at the
Gates. Based on an episode in the history of World War II, the
Siege of Stalingrad,
that, since it involved the Nazis and the Soviets, is rather exotic to an
American audience, the film even gives a little educational bonus. A couple of minutes
of historical background at the beginning, establishes the historical importance
of the events, but a talented director and superb cast give the story its
emotional weight.
The film, loosely based on a true story, tells of the duel
of guns and wits between a Soviet sniper Vassily Zaitsev (Law) and his German
counterpart Major Koenig (Harris). Snipers have about as easy a life as anyone
in wartime, since they are long-distance fighters. Part of what gives the film
its tension and interest is that the results of this encounter do not depend so
much upon the pure shooting skills of the antagonists as upon their cunning at
outmaneuvering each other, as if they are playing some gruesome chess game.
The story also gains poignancy in the relationships of the
characters. Zaitsev becomes a poster boy for the desperate and demoralized
Soviet troops, under the leadership of our old foe Nikita Kruschev (Hoskins,
whose portrayal of the foul-mouthed peasant is not that far from his cartoonish
role in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?). In a few deft moments, the film
handles the theme of the cost of fame, even celebrity, so much better than Fifteen
Minutes, which doesn't deal with much of anything else. Zaitsev's mentor,
perhaps handler, Danilov (Fiennes), shares his attraction for Tania (Weisz), and
the complexities of friendship, jealousy, and power that bind the men makes
their symbiotic friendship one of the most intriguing aspects of the film.
By the way, I have previously complained about how
embarrassing and often unnecessary sex scenes are in movies. There is one brief,
restrained sex scene in this film, almost painful to watch, that is perhaps the
most necessary sex scene I've ever seen in a film. In a terrible silence and a
terribly ruined city, Tania and one of her admirers seek a little comfort, a
little companionship, in a brief encounter that is more about the heart than
about the genitals.
One of my professors once remarked, as we were bogged down
in some Russian literature, that no one can suffer like a Russian. Well, those
poor people, under various regimes and various names (Stalingrad is now
Volvograd), facing various enemies. have certainly had plenty of practice, and
this film shows the despair and determination of the Soviet people suffering the
worst that the Nazis could inflict. It was a brave move to release in the United
States a film about World War II that concentrated on the Soviet Army, rather
than the Americans (just wait till May for Pearl Harbor). Near the end of
the film, however, there is a heavy, artificial speech in which one of the most
loyal Soviet operatives laments the failure of their vision. I agree with what
he says, but I do not agree with its placement in this film. Neither do I agree
with the ending of the film, which feels too much as if it were stuck on in
order to appease a skittish studio honcho and, perhaps, sell a few more tickets.
The film's fascinating texture captures the physical and
emotional realities of the ruined city. It is a terribly irony that the truly
awful Stalinist art (almost a contradiction in terms) seems to have survived the
Nazi onslaught better than anything else. The broad but detailed canvas against
which the characters play out their sad lives reminds me of director Annaud's
1986 film, Name of the Rose. In fact, a Medieval monastery is no more
distant from our lives than the ruins of a Russian city half a century ago.
Enemy at the Gates is a powerful evocation of war, from its opening scenes,
with Soviet soldiers boated into the doomed city, shot from above by
German planes or shot by their own officers if they attempt to escape. Landing,
they are divided into pairs, with one rifle for each pair and with the
instructions that when the man carrying the rifle is shot, the man who is
following will take up the rifle. Later, in another example of the grisly lower
mathematics of a war in which humans are worth less than the guns and bullets
needed to kill them, the Germans similarly divide their prisoners into pairs.
They tie them together, shoot one (to save bullets), and push both into the
water, with the dead body carrying both under.
The film drags at times, as if the director were determined
to reach two hours, whether or not he needed that much time. But when the screen
is graced by Law, Fiennes, or Weisz--or any combination of the three--there is
enough intensity and chemistry to keep things very watchable.
Next week, we'll finally find out who will be adding an
Oscar
to the curio cabinet. At the moment, I would guess Gladiator, Russell
Crowe, and Julia Roberts will take home top honors. Not my choices, necessarily,
but if Roberts will at least make a graceful acknowledgement of Ellen Burstyn's
work (in Requiem for a Dream, which, since the film is not a blockbuster,
doesn't stand a chance for the recognition it deserves), I won't rave too much.
Keep your feet dry and your heart full of noble thoughts. As I've said before, I write these columns out of a love for film, not to show off my ability to write put-downs. This time, I am leaving room in my heart for a little gratitude for Enemy at the Gates; after a few miserable weeks, I actually enjoyed going to the movies again.