“‘Racism and violence comprise the majority of ‘American Sniper,’ Clint Eastwood’s box-office hit,’ declared Andy Reuss last week (“‘American Sniper’ and killing the other,” Jan. 29). This is a painfully shallow assessment,” wrote Michael Aavang, in last week’s response to my film critique.
I couldn’t agree more. Which is exactly why I wrote the 764 words that followed, in order to explain that first sentence.
To save you, dear reader, the time and effort required to find and read our correspondence, I will summarize it briefly. My thesis is this: It is good that a film such as American Sniper depicts American soldiers in their struggle with the reality of taking the life of another human. In particular, we recognize in their apparent racism a calculation, a recognition that the enemy combatant is a threat to something worth fighting for, rather than a human “thou shalt not murder.” This isn’t to say all American veterans are racist. In fact, it does not presume to say anything at all about American veterans. Merely that movies such as American Sniper humanize them, hinting at the myriad of struggles and emotions they might go through as a result of their military duty.
Aavang missed this. For reasons unknown to me, he chose to focus on my own inexperience in combat, instead of recognizing that the article concluded with my own gratitude that others have persevered in the face of death so that I might not have to.
In the end, Aavang failed to appreciate my central argument that movies like American Sniper are a tribute to servicemen and women, insofar as they convey the very human struggle that combat veterans face. Recent films like Fury and Lone Survivor provide a glimpse into the ethics of war, often shedding light on the humanity of the “enemy” and even a soldier’s decision to withhold violence because of it. I believe that all of these are fundamentally good for those who view the movies, both as Americans and as men and women.
So instead of evaluating the remainder of Aavang’s “conversation with bullets” argument, I will assume his response came from a misreading of my film critique. I will also restate my appreciation for American veterans and the struggle in which they have all engaged that I can only imagine. This includes Aavang. And I will return to my original point, that of the relationship between film and the portrayal of American military action.
American Sniper and films like it mark a refreshing change in the posture of war films toward their subject. Though iconic, movies such as Full Metal Jacket have contributed to anti-war sentiment in a way that is misplaced. The viewer is left with a feeling of disgust and revulsion that leads to mere antipathy or cynicism. This isn’t to say that the movie doesn’t have its merits, but simply that the cultivation of an “anti-” sentiment is not as desirable as it may seem.
Instead, the new wave of war movies, from The Hurt Locker and Black Hawk Down to contemporaries like Fury and Lone Survivor, have become increasingly focused on the human drama that takes place in war. In the most gruesome scenes, audiences are exposed to the raw, terrible tragedy that is combat violence and death. And in the fleeting moments of human compassion and brotherhood (think of Lone Survivor and the Afghani man’s selfless aid to the Navy SEAL), we find hope in the possibility of love and goodness.
Of course, no one can truly experience the horrors of war secondhand, through film or any other medium. Nor should we want to. But through American Sniper and its kin, we as ordinary citizens can come to understand more clearly the very real struggle that is born out of war. We can know soldiers not as superhuman, detached beings, but as men and women like us, unfortunately exposed to unimaginable suffering and death who nevertheless continue to live and strive in this world. That is what makes these movies great.
And though a reasonable man will admit that universal peace is a mere hope, found not in this world but rather the next, it remains a hope. Through movies that attempt to show the human struggle with war and death, we must continue to hope for something more. That one day, no one will need to have that struggle.
And once again, I will say that until that day comes, we must hope that those who are called to that struggle will have the strength to persevere, and the strength to make it back.
