The War Once Home
'In the Valley of Elah' fights to reveal one of combat's most dismissed consequences
By Mark Keizer
On a recent Bill O'Reilly radio show, the Levittown loudmouth was kind enough to run down a list of upcoming films concerning the war in Iraq. In O'Reilly's opinion, Hollywood (the boulevard, the industry, the state of mind) is overrun with - quoting George Carlin - "commie fag junkies" plotting to anoint Osama bin Laden program director at PBS while creating cross-media propaganda aimed at destroying the American way of life. But until that blessed day, Hollywood is busy minting a series of filmed entertainments whose purpose is to turn public opinion against the war. Of course, this is something currently being accomplished with every purchase of a 50-cent newspaper, not a $14 movie ticket. And with the newspaper, you get the funnies.
Among the films O'Reilly ticked off are Brian De Palma's Redacted, based on the true story of the March 2006 rape and murder of an Iraqi girl by a group of American GI's, and the forthcoming Rendition, about an Egyptian-born chemical engineer tortured by U.S. government agents at one of those secret detention facilities the liberal mainstream media is always blabbering about. Lastly, he mentioned In the Valley of Elah, the new film by writer-director Paul Haggis. The Canadian-born Haggis is the only person in the history of the Oscars to write back-to-back Best Picture winners. And if Million Dollar Baby and Crash (which he also directed) taught us anything, it's that Haggis is the least likely person to throw a really cool children's birthday party. (And that's despite having four kids.) After cutting his teeth writing for comedy greats Norman Lear and Tracey Ullman, Haggis has transformed into a self-serious writer-sometimes-director whose need to make Big Statements threatens to elbow out all other considerations. In the Valley of Elah, based on a Playboy investigative article by Mark Boal, is a Big Statement mixed with a standard police procedural, sprinkled with a dash of Costa-Gavras's Missing - if Jack Lemmon's character was a former Army MP who occasionally pummeled the crap out of soldiers half his age.
According to a March 2007 article in The New York Times, the company newsletter of the Progressive Wacko Nutjob Left (Viva Chavez!), 3,196 active-duty soldiers deserted the Army in 2006. A soldier is classified a deserter if AWOL for more than 30 days. As Haggis's film opens, Hank Deerfield (Tommy Lee Jones, in one of his best performances) gets the call that his son Mike has gone AWOL on his first weekend back from Iraq. A quarter-century ago, when Jones won a Best Actor Emmy as convicted killer Gary Gilmore in The Executioner's Song, he was already an old soul, whose cold, dark eyes knew sorrow you would never understand. Here, Jones projects Hank's oft-required equanimity, one that isn't so much devoid of emotion, but suggestive of someone whose long-swallowed emotions can't afford to show themselves. In the striking minimalism of the film's early scenes, Haggis and Jones are perfectly in sync: The stillness of Haggis's camera matches Hank's solemn preparations for the two-day drive to Fort Rudd, the New Mexico base where Mike is stationed. Hank's abrupt departure barely warrants discussion with wife Joan (Susan Sarandon), whose thin contributions still provide some of the film's emotional highpoints.
In New Mexico, Mike's platoon buddies dodge Hank's questions regarding their comrade's disappearance, and the local police are callously unconcerned. So he mounts his own investigation with the help of the only sympathetic ear he can find, detective Emily Sanders (Charlize Theron). Hank's grim determination draws us to him, but Emily is mechanical, ill-fitting, and even less realized than the female leads currently turning up on TNT. She endures misogynistic comments from male cops and lacks a significant other, save for her young son (Devin Brochu), whose only helpful contribution is allowing Hank to tell the story that gives the movie its title (the Valley of Elah is where David killed Goliath [1 Samuel 17: 1-58]). And Emily is, of course, no match for the investigatory powers of the taciturn Hank, who knows that streetlights will make a car's paint look a different color, plus other fun facts that betray what the film ultimately becomes: a highly-polished, well-acted, award-baiting episode of Law and Order.
Early on, Hank and Emily's search ends with the worst possible outcome: Mike was murdered, his body chopped into bits. It's a nightmare that only the cursed can fathom, but the anguish of a military family is merely what drives the narrative. The film's takeaway message is its depiction of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which effects between 12 and 20 percent of Iraq War veterans.
Indeed, as the investigation broadens into a marginally engaging whodunit, the film's thematic scope broadens in kind. During his initial visit to Mike's barracks, Hank steals his son's cell phone and discovers it contains damaged video clips recorded in Iraq. Recovering the images initially smacks of time-wasting, but it's actually one of Haggis's more interesting assertions. Every vet needs to chronicle their experience and purge their grief. But unlike vets from previous conflicts, the psychic toll of wars fought by the current generation is clickable and available for streaming. It's YouTube and blog as emotional download, and an easily Googled reminder that the teenagers charged with fighting our wars always come back changed, if not dead.
Should the film strike a nerve, conservative death squads will doubtless take up arms, because Haggis dares to suggest that war isn't always a glorious and enlightened undertaking (Note: the new Rambo film is scheduled for release in May 2008). But Haggis, despite the somber self-absorption that basically sinks the film (the final shot is a doozy!), isn't attempting a flower-in-the-rifle-barrel call for peace at any cost. Nor is he disrespecting the troops, aligning himself with terrorists, or advocating anti-Americanism. Whether the right wing likes it or not, generals plan the wars, but artists help weave their long-term effects into the cultural fabric. And Haggis, from the padded comfort of his high horse, fancies himself an important artist worthy of leading the charge in 2007.
Still, the Big Statement he aches to make is easily put into practice without even seeing his film: When you meet someone who has returned from combat, don't ask how many terrorists they killed, or claim to understand them because of movies like In the Valley of Elah. Just say, "Welcome home."
Published: 09/13/2007
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