Trouble at home, travel away

0 Comments Published by Elle Aurens on November 4, 2006.  

Munich (Spielberg, 2005) U. S. A.

Love him or hate him, one thing Spielberg can not be accused of is unprofessionalism. He may be too much of a schmooze and may be too much of a cop-out director; nevertheless, there's an undeniable Spielbergian stamp to his films. One can even argue that he is an auteur of sort. At the very least, he belongs to a rare category of commercial artists, ones who make art that manages to find an audience across various societal strata. Whether it is a blockbuster or a war picture, you can watch it and deride its banal attempt at being self-important or its crass commercialized art. Or, considering the fate of his pictures of late, you can ridicule its ludicrous ending and laugh at its perceived box office failure. You do not, however, ignore a Spielberg film.

It is not surprising then, that Munich, yet another based-on-a-true-event picture to inspire us lowly moviegoers, was hyped up as the film of the year at least weeks before its release. Its subject matter (Israeli/Arabs conflict, terrorism), director-subject match (Spielberg taking on a Jewish subject), and political timing (Middle East conflict) guaranteed a front runner status in the Oscars race. The burning question is: does it live up to the hype?

The short answer is, yes, but probably not in the way most thought it would. It is well-paced, acted and composed, although there were some moments of sensationalism to be expected in a Spielberg film. It does very well as a political thriller, but its comment on a dire human condition is ultimately what makes it more than a by-the-number thriller. The picture is embued with a moral ambiguity uncommon in most Spielberg films. It contains at least one risky sequence of sexual nature, as Bana's Avner's nightmare and sexual desire are served up in one of the boldest on-screen juxtapositions this year. The film begins in chaos and ends in stillness, and somewhere in between is the million dollar problem so succinctly summed up by Avner's question posed to each of his victims: 'do you know why I'm here?' Does anybody in this bloody conflict really know why he's in it? The answer offered by both sides, while touching and true, rings strangely empty in this context. 'Fighting for my home' sounds at first like a meaningful reason and then increasingly like an excuse inspired by simple human self-serving greed. Interestingly, in a previous Spielberg attempt at explaining bloodshed - Saving Private Ryan - Tom Hanks' character fought for the right to come 'home' to his family. Spielberg may just have subverted his own family symbolism here, by bringing doubt to this noble motive. Avner may have in the end hit upon the awfully straightforward truth of 'home is where the heart is'.

The journey to that end is a constant struggle of bridging morality and the act of vengeance, and somewhere in between is the identity crisis thrusted upon those whose root is being constantly gnawed at and questioned. That identity so assuredly held by Avner's unquestioning manner in the beginning sets him on the path of self-righteousness. He is doing this unspeakable act because he must, because he is an Israeli, and because his home needs protection. He will kill for the survival of his home and so will his opponents, it's simple as that. When the options come down to the survival of one's family and the call to patriotism, Avner realizes then where his heart really is, and his belief in a greater cause than himself begins to crumble. There's a sad resignation to the film, as all sides have seemingly come to a cross-road where everybody is holding on steadfastly to that ideal 'home', stubbornly closing their eyes to the vicious circle that their own blood is feeding. What matters is not how they win the war, but that they win it. But sadly, a war is not to be won; the only winners are those who trade not with their own blood, but with their hard cold cash.

That is not to say Spielberg does not try to offer a solution. Move to America! No. I kid. The suggested solution is a more impractical ideal (if that's possible), one in which people finally realize that the home mentality is universal, and that it is just that, a mentality. It can be changed with a shift in priority: our family comes first, so let us just stop threatening the others' family and maybe they'd do the same! Of course, threat is also a perception, a mistrust of good intentions, which we have plenty of. Although I have faith in human ability for empathy, it saddens me to admit that we probably need more than empathy to stop us from self-destruction. A shift in mentality does not happen just by rationalizing an emotionally ladden situation; we just do not know exactly what we would do when driven into a state of paranoid and extreme mistrust while fending for the survival of what we hold dear.

Can we say then, that Munich is an essay on a human condition that ultimately offers nothing? Unlike many other inspired-by-true-event films, Munich is not a morally uplifting film. It does not offer a solution. While I must admit to being biased toward ambiguous films, a non-solution film in itself is not very interesting unless it manages to say something eloquent that also rings true. This, Munich manages to achieve. It is in its blatant resignation and quiet hope that Spielberg the artist, and Munich, finally comes through.

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Here's what Matt Zoller Seitz (of the New York Press) has to say about the sex scene:

I think the sex scene is the heart of the movie, the point where it (pardon the language) takes its clothes off and shows you what it really is. Avner truly loves his wife, truly loves having sex with his wife (an unironic expression of heterosexual domestic ardor, one that almost has a hearty peasant quality; only Spielberg would dare be so cornball, and so true to the feelings of men who married well). When he fucks his wife he feels safe. That this sacred moment would be invaded by images of Munich is at once appalling, sad, funny and true to the experience of anyone who has suffered violence or watched powerlessly as it was inflicted on someone else.

More here on his blog.

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