Patriot a B-grade
revenge thriller

As if jingoistic historical inaccuracies weren’t
enough, the film fails on artistic levels, too.

PETER T. CHATTAWAY
CW film critic

The Patriot, starring Mel Gibson, Heath Ledger and Jason Isaacs, is directed by Roland Emmerich. Rated R for strong war violence.

The Patriot pretends to be a noble historical epic, but it is, in truth, a B-grade revenge thriller. Despite the charismatic presence of Mel Gibson-who was paid a record $25 million to star in this film-there is no getting around the utterly formulaic script (by Saving Private Ryan’s Robert Rodat) and the stodgy direction (by Roland Emmerich, whose credits include more honestly junky fare like Independence Day and Godzilla).

It's obvious how every scene in this slow-moving Revolutionary War epic is going to end from the moment it begins. Gibson plays Benjamin Martin, a former war hero who, like the commandos and car thieves of many a potboiler, has left his old life behind but is constantly reminded that he was the best in his profession. Naturally, a family crisis forces him out of retirement and plunges him into the conflict, along with many of his old comrades.

Benjamin goes on to lead a militia that works from a secret base in a dark swamp. Benjamin, known to his on-screen opponents as "The Ghost," is actually modelled on Francis Marion, a fighter known as "The Swamp Fox" who was known for hunting Native Americans for sport and raping his female slaves. Traces of Marion's history do remain-the film alludes to "sins" which Benjamin committed in his past, and for which he still feels terrible remorse-but otherwise, the character has been whitewashed.

Dubious link

The film also draws a dubious link between American heroism and Christian faith. Martin prays frequently, and one of the men in his militia is a pastor (Rene Auberjonois) who takes up arms against the Brits because, as he puts it, "a shepherd must tend his flock-and, at times, fight off the wolves." (But what if one of his flock were a Loyalist?) The British, in contrast, are utterly secular and faith-less, their villainy confirmed when one of them torches a church with its parishioners locked inside.

As if jingoistic historical inaccuracies weren’t enough, the film fails on artistic levels, too. The dialogue is full of banalities, some of which are downright anachronistic. ("May I sit here?" Martin asks his lady love, played by Joely Richardson. "It’s a free country," she replies, "or at least, it will be.") For all this film’s stuffy seriousness, every bullet wound and tomahawk to the head is treated like a popcorn-movie thrill.

More than any other recent film, The Patriot reminded me of an essay G.K. Chesterton wrote shortly before his death in 1936, in which he argued that so-called moral films-films which oversimplify history and stir partisan sentiments while shutting down people’s minds-were a greater peril to society than their lowbrow, allegedly immoral counterparts.

Space Cowboys

starring Clint Eastwood, Tommy Lee Jones
and Donald Sutherland, is directed by
Clint Eastwood. Rated PG-13.

Four retired Air Force pilots, all of whom missed their chance to fly into space when NASA was created in 1958, get an opportunity to revive their old dream when a satellite dating back to the Cold War breaks down and none of the younger scientists has any idea how to repair it.

The unlikely premise behind Space Cowboys is not entirely incredible, thanks to John Glenn’s famous space-shuttle mission, but the film is content to be essentially a harmless fantasy for old men.

Clint Eastwood, better known as a loner than a team player, has a ball with fellow fogies Donald Sutherland and James Garner during the training scenes that occupy the film’s first half. (Only Tommy Lee Jones, born at the cusp of the baby boom, feels a bit out of place.)

The space mission itself, however, is not that exciting. Even the heroic sacrifice made by one character, while commendable, feels strictly by-the-numbers.

Incidentally, we can add this film to the list of recent movies that have, in their own muddled, superficial way, tried to show Christians in a positive light. Garner’s character is a Baptist minister, which provides the basis for a few jokes. Believers on the big screen may still be cartoonish, but now they’re our cartoons.

Certain reviewers have panned this summer's funniest flick. They just don’t get it.

After 35 years in re-runs, Rocky and Bullwinkle charge out of Frostbite Falls, Minnesota in a live-action/animation mix with a point. R & B's clear-cut hometown suffers other ravages that accompany thoughtless "progress" anytime, anywhere: ruined landscape and depression so profound that the once flying (now sighing) squirrel is noticeably plump and can’t take off.

Okay, the plot is predictably implausible; the puns more miserable than ever. But such goofy campiness made the 60's show magnetic. So, you deconstructionist reviewers, respect history, for Pete's sake! This is not merely a retro movie for baby-boomer bucks as we fight our own paunches. Boris, Natasha and Fearless Leader hilariously morph into real-people caricatures funnier and more hapless than the cartoon originals--yet scary withal. R & B, though, remain as created: animated characters, honest to the core, intent to foil Fearless Leader's plot to zombify America (goes for Canada too!) with RBTV--"Really Bad Television."

Of course, R & B bumble to victory with a bonhomie known only to deeply sanctified camp counsellors or rookie youth pastors. RBTV is redeemed to "Rocky and Bullwinkle Television." Frostbite Falls even gets new trees. Hey, this is serious fun-just like the new heavens and earth will be for part of eternity, I hope.
Groan and giggle through 105 minutes of celluloid mishap before our own mirthless leaders banish it to videodom and clear-cut more youthful joy, no matter how juvenile.

Reviewed by James C. Dekker, sometimes serious Calvinist, pastor of Hope Christian Reformed Church, Thunder Bay, Ontario