Saving Private Ryan
This happens every once in a while and it/s happening now. Now that I think about it, this
happens about every other year: I get all crazy about World War II.
I'm not sure if this is some sort of nod to my (half) Jewish side. I'll admit that I, as somebody who
has Jewish ancestors, am in eternal debt to the fighting men of 'the great and noble
undertaking.' Yet, I can't overlook that I, and many other men from my generation, feel that
WWII was the last time America mobilized to war for an unquestionably just cause. The brave
men who fought in that war did no less than save the world. Looking back on that time, it would
be a travesty for the U.S. not to have fought. That sense of purpose earned in blood by the
'greatest generation' must be extremely gratifying. I can only speculate as to what that level of
pride must have felt like.
So, I find myself here, again, watching Band of Brothers on DVD which is, without a doubt, the
greatest miniseries of all time. I find myself reading Major Dick Winters' biography and eagerly
awaiting the theatrical release of Flags of Our Fathers (another book I've read). I find myself,
once again, watching Saving Private Ryan.
Saving Private Ryan is the best thing Steven Spielberg ever did... ever. Don't get me wrong, I
love Indiana Jones, The Terminal and Jurassic Park (I saw Jurassic Park eight times in the
theater. Yeah, it's a long story) but nothing can compare to watching the brutal landing on
Omaha Beach. Prior to seeing that, I'd never watched an action sequence that actually kicked
in my adrenal response and filled me with anxiety. That scene has done that, repeatedly. In
fact, every action sequence in Saving Private Ryan affects me in some way. The report of the
BAR will do that to a man, as will that of the Thompson submachine gun.
So, the good stuff:
1- Killer script.
2- Killer production.
3- Killer cast.
4- Killer sound editing.
5- Killer whatever else I forgot.
The bad stuff:
1- No boobs.
2- That little bastard Upham does not get run over by a tank at any point in the entire movie.
3- Nobody ever called me to play Vin Diesel's part and I told Steve, repeatedly, that I was
available for that project.
Mofo don't want to help a half-brother out? 'Kay, das cool. I'll remember dat shit.
This happens every once in a while and it/s happening now. Now that I think about it, this
happens about every other year: I get all crazy about World War II.
I'm not sure if this is some sort of nod to my (half) Jewish side. I'll admit that I, as somebody who
has Jewish ancestors, am in eternal debt to the fighting men of 'the great and noble
undertaking.' Yet, I can't overlook that I, and many other men from my generation, feel that
WWII was the last time America mobilized to war for an unquestionably just cause. The brave
men who fought in that war did no less than save the world. Looking back on that time, it would
be a travesty for the U.S. not to have fought. That sense of purpose earned in blood by the
'greatest generation' must be extremely gratifying. I can only speculate as to what that level of
pride must have felt like.
So, I find myself here, again, watching Band of Brothers on DVD which is, without a doubt, the
greatest miniseries of all time. I find myself reading Major Dick Winters' biography and eagerly
awaiting the theatrical release of Flags of Our Fathers (another book I've read). I find myself,
once again, watching Saving Private Ryan.
Saving Private Ryan is the best thing Steven Spielberg ever did... ever. Don't get me wrong, I
love Indiana Jones, The Terminal and Jurassic Park (I saw Jurassic Park eight times in the
theater. Yeah, it's a long story) but nothing can compare to watching the brutal landing on
Omaha Beach. Prior to seeing that, I'd never watched an action sequence that actually kicked
in my adrenal response and filled me with anxiety. That scene has done that, repeatedly. In
fact, every action sequence in Saving Private Ryan affects me in some way. The report of the
BAR will do that to a man, as will that of the Thompson submachine gun.
So, the good stuff:
1- Killer script.
2- Killer production.
3- Killer cast.
4- Killer sound editing.
5- Killer whatever else I forgot.
The bad stuff:
1- No boobs.
2- That little bastard Upham does not get run over by a tank at any point in the entire movie.
3- Nobody ever called me to play Vin Diesel's part and I told Steve, repeatedly, that I was
available for that project.
Mofo don't want to help a half-brother out? 'Kay, das cool. I'll remember dat shit.
