It is probably fair to say that the theme of war is one of the most pervasive in film. Whether for propaganda, critique or shock value, cinema relishes in the recreation of the marching footsteps, the gun blasts, the frenetic flight of those in distress, and the reenactment of violence. I have probably had my fill of these, particularly the mainstream variety that tend to have a similar feel and construct. Specifically, the type of film that is loaded with sounds so intense that it becomes uncomfortable and has a vivid language that is as subtle as a bludgeoning instrument. These films also often follow a rigid plot line with a predictable outcome. It is almost as if humans want the full visceral horror of war, but then need to absolve themselves of the evil, by giving the film a conciliatory ending. The newest Hollywood war film, Dunkirk (2017) by Christopher Nolan in my opinion is no exception. This film once again reverts to the formulaic audiovisual assault, this time almost without respite, and perhaps that was the point. Any chance of uncovering the psychological struggle of characters or the subtle insinuations of humanity questioning its actions is muddied by the inability of your nervous system to recover from the stimulatory onslaught.
Don’t get me wrong, not every mainstream war drama fits this description. Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979) twists the cacophony of light, sound and carnage together with a captivating psychoanalysis of the characters that leaves viewers captivated and not just exhausted. Roman Polanski’s The Pianist (2002) focuses on the human spirit not with respect to war, but with respect to art as the battle rages around the central character. However, there are other ways in which to convey the horror of war that may also leave us with enough strength to take away a message that is long lasting and meaningful. Fortunately I have discovered two very different films that do just that: Hungarian film Son of Saul (2015) directed by László Nemes and Zaza Urushadze’s Estonian-Georgian film Tangerines (2013).
In the Son of Saul, Nemes uses the camera to study the psychological makeup of the characters as they live the war rather than depicting the obstreperous elements of the war itself. This approach conveys a type of horror that, in my opinion, is more impactful than the buckets of blood and the gratuitous violence typically shown in war movies. Nemes creates a persistent haunting feeling by shooting on traditional 35mm film in a square aspect ratio. This tight aspect ratio creates claustrophobia and inescapability. The audience feels suffocated by the palpable anguish experienced by the principle characters. Nemes masterfully uses on the point-of-view and handheld shots to thrust viewers into the midst of the concentration camp and allows them to participate in the sadistic labor the prisoners are forced to carry out. The camera movement is slow and the depth of field is quite shallow, allowing the audience to linger in a confused and anxious reality. Nemes has no qualms about showing naked corpses being dragged to incinerators by prisoners or the unceremonious scattering of the ashes from the crematorium into a river to hide the evidence of the crimes committed. Nemes leaves out no detail and punctuates it against a backdrop of a mixture of muted diegetic and non-diegetic sound. The horror has both explicit and implicit components, but requires no brassy elements to bring it to the forefront. The edginess comes from the growing awareness of what is happening rather than a physical response to an exaggerated stimulus. In my opinion Son of Saul is the first film to capture realistically the relentless brutality of World War II.
Tangerines is almost the diametric pole of Son of Saul. Urushadze sets the film during the war in Abkhazia in the 90s. The film is shot in a single location in the Georgian countryside where two friends stay behind as the war erupts in order to harvest their crop of tangerines. In this way Urushadze is able to separate the audience from the war both physically and psychologically. This is in stark contrast to Son of Saul where the single location kept the audience locked into the inescapable horrors that the war creates. In Tangerines there is a utopic feel because there is never any explicit evidence of the war raging around the principal characters. As in Son of Saul, there is no need for the din of war paraphernalia. Rather, Urushadz, like Nemes, chooses muted sounds and background noise in order to bring the audience into the scene. The war becomes part of the narrative when the friends take in two wounded soldiers from opposite sides. The war thus becomes a question of tolerance and resistance of primal urges. Urushadze draws attention to compassion and the moral best that humanity can achieve during war time, a diametrically opposite message from that in Son of Saul. What truly stands out in Tangerines in comparison to Nemes’ film is the occasional punctum of color that occurs when the audience sees the main character picking the actual tangerine fruits from his orchard. This intense coloration enhances the peaceful surroundings in which the whole film takes place and lends it an aura of hope without the need for cliché happy endings. It is in fact the simple fruit, the tangerine, which serves as the symbol of unification allowing the wounded soldiers from different factions to transcend their cultural differences. In this way Urushadze concentrates on educating the audience about the other face of war: the possibility of peace and compromise and resistance to violence.
In the end, the approach to war as film genre could be bifurcated into two factions. One that barrages us with stimuli in the hopes of shocking, but in the end desensitizes, and another that leaves us with a lasting memory of evil or peace. In my opinion, the former may be more exciting, but the latter is more enlightening.
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