(11) Saving Private Ryan
Review: "Saving Private Ryan" - War is Hell, But at Least Tom Hanks is There
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½
Saving Private Ryan starts with one of the most intense, unrelenting sequences in cinematic history: the D-Day invasion. It’s 20 minutes of chaos, explosions, and the kind of emotional whiplash that makes you grateful your biggest battle today was with a stuck jar lid. Steven Spielberg doesn’t just show you war; he drops you right into it, shakes you by the shoulders, and screams, "This is how bad it was!" It’s less a movie opener and more a full-contact history lesson.
The premise is deceptively simple: a squad of soldiers, led by Tom Hanks’ Captain Miller, is tasked with finding and rescuing Private James Francis Ryan, played by Matt Damon, after his brothers are killed in action. Think of it as a military version of Finding Nemo, except with fewer talking fish and more existential despair.
The cast is a who's who of '90s stars and character actors. Tom Hanks is, as always, the perfect everyman calm, commanding, and just frazzled enough to remind you he’s a high school teacher thrust into the madness of war. The supporting cast includes Edward Burns, Barry Pepper, Vin Diesel (yes, that Vin Diesel), and Giovanni Ribisi, who collectively embody every type of soldier you’d want, and not want, on your squad. There’s also a young Nathan Fillion in a brief cameo as the wrong Private Ryan, giving us all a much-needed laugh before the movie returns to crushing our souls.
Spielberg’s direction is masterful, making the war feel unbearably real. The handheld camerawork, muted colours, and gritty sound design immerse you so thoroughly that you might find yourself involuntarily ducking during gunfire. The attention to detail is staggering, from the clinking of soldiers’ helmets to the way bullets rip through the water. It’s visceral, harrowing, and a stark reminder that war is not, as some movies would have you believe, about slow-motion hero shots and triumphant orchestras.
But what really sets Saving Private Ryan apart is its humanity. The film isn’t just about explosions and strategy; it’s about the cost of war. Every soldier in Captain Miller’s squad has doubts about risking their lives for one man. Their conversations wrestle with morality, duty, and the absurdity of their mission, giving the film emotional weight that lingers long after the credits roll.
Of course, no review of this movie would be complete without mentioning the final act. The climactic battle over a bridge is a nail-biting, sweat-inducing spectacle that’s equal parts tragedy and triumph. By the time it’s over, you’ll need a moment (or several) to process what you’ve just watched and maybe to find some tissues.
That said, the movie isn’t without its quirks. There’s a small part of you that wonders if anyone considered just handing Private Ryan a bus ticket and calling it a day. And let’s be honest: the sheer amount of things that go wrong for Captain Miller’s squad borders on slapstick, if it weren’t so devastating. It’s like the universe decided, “What if Murphy’s Law... but make it war?”
Would I recommend it? Absolutely, but only if you’re emotionally prepared. Saving Private Ryan is not a casual watch. It’s a gut-punch, a history lesson, and a testament to Spielberg’s ability to tell deeply human stories against the backdrop of unimaginable horror.
If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to survive D-Day, wrestle with moral dilemmas, and still find time for a little squad banter, this is the movie for you. Just don’t expect to leave the couch dry-eyed or emotionally intact.
Review: The Mission – Jesuits, Jungle, and Jeremy Irons Playing the Oboe
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½
Watching The Mission feels like going on a breathtaking vacation to 18th-century South America, only to realise halfway through that colonialism has ruined everything, and now you’re crying into your popcorn. Directed by Roland Joffé, this 1986 film is part historical drama, part spiritual epic, and part “why do bad things happen to good people?” all set against the lush backdrop of the rainforest.
The story follows Jesuit priests Father Gabriel (Jeremy Irons) and Mendoza (Robert De Niro) as they try to protect an indigenous Guarani community from the twin evils of European politics and capitalism. Father Gabriel is the serene, morally steadfast one, while Mendoza begins the film as a mercenary with a sword and a temper, but transforms into a guilt-ridden protector of the oppressed. Think The Odd Couple, but with more cross necklaces and fewer jokes.
Let’s start with the obvious: this movie is gorgeous. The cinematography is stunning, showcasing cascading waterfalls, misty jungles, and vast horizons that make you think, “Wow, the world was so pretty before colonialism ruined it.” Add to that Ennio Morricone’s score, a mix of haunting oboe solos, choir harmonies, and orchestral swells and you’ve got a film that’s just as much an experience for the ears as it is for the eyes. Seriously, that oboe theme might be the most beautiful thing to ever come out of woodwind instruments.
Jeremy Irons is the picture of calm devotion as Father Gabriel, a man so committed to spreading the gospel that he treks through the jungle to play his oboe for the Guarani. Because, you know, nothing says “I come in peace” like lugging an instrument through hostile terrain. Meanwhile, Robert De Niro brings the emotional heft, starting as a hot-headed slave trader before embarking on a redemption arc so intense it could be its own movie. At one point, he literally hauls his old weapons and armor up a waterfall to atone for his sins, because subtlety is for lesser characters.
The film’s moral complexity is where it really shines. It’s not just “good guys vs. bad guys.” It’s Jesuits vs. colonial governments vs. the Church vs. themselves. The Guarani, portrayed with dignity and strength, are caught in the middle, and their story drives home the tragedy of the entire situation. By the end, you’ll be questioning everything, faith, justice, and whether European diplomacy has ever accomplished anything good.
That said, The Mission isn’t without its quirks. For starters, the pacing can feel as slow as Father Gabriel paddling upriver. The first half immerses you in the beauty of the Guarani’s world, which is lovely, but by the time the political drama kicks in, you might be thinking, “Okay, but when are the stakes going to explode?” And while Irons and De Niro give powerhouse performances, some of the supporting characters feel more like plot devices than actual people.
The ending, without giving too much away, is equal parts devastating and beautiful. It’s the cinematic equivalent of being punched in the gut while a choir sings a heavenly requiem. You’ll leave the film emotionally wrecked but also in awe of what it accomplished.
Would I recommend The Mission? Absolutely, if you’re in the mood for a deeply moving, visually stunning, and morally thought-provoking film. Just know you’re signing up for an emotional rollercoaster that’s heavy on guilt, redemption, and the kind of existential despair that comes free with every colonialism drama.
Pro tip: Have a box of tissues handy and maybe some calming tea for after. And if you’ve ever wanted to hear Jeremy Irons shred on the oboe, this is the film for you.
Review: The Pianist – Music, War, and the Unlikely Hero Who Just Wants to Play the Piano
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½
The Pianist (2002) is the kind of movie that takes you on an emotional journey, except instead of a sightseeing tour through Europe, you’re getting a front-row seat to the horrors of WWII, complete with the occasional awkward piano recital. Directed by Roman Polanski and based on the memoir of Władysław Szpilman, a Polish Jewish pianist, the film is part war drama, part biographical survival story, and all heart-wrenching. It’s like if Schindler’s List had a musical twist and also the twist was that it’s somehow both haunting and slightly uplifting. Spoiler alert: You might cry, but you’ll also walk out thinking, “Hey, I should probably learn how to play the piano now.”
The film centres on Adrien Brody, who plays Szpilman, and let’s just say he’s not your typical action-hero. There are no explosions or epic fight sequences here, but what Brody does deliver is a performance so raw and human that it might actually make you feel like you’re witnessing a guy simply trying to survive while living in a brutal warzone, all while keeping his piano-playing skills sharp. Imagine the "underdog" story of a man trying to stay alive while avoiding Nazi bullets only he’s also hoping no one notices that his piano-fingers are the real MVPs.
What makes The Pianist so striking is its attention to detail in portraying the slow unraveling of Szpilman’s life as the Nazis take control of Warsaw. One minute, he’s playing Chopin on the airwaves, and the next, he’s dodging German soldiers in a bombed-out city while hoping not to get shot by the local militia for... well, just existing. It’s an emotional rollercoaster, but one that doesn’t have an easy "up" the “ride” here is just a lot of darkness and some seriously intense piano moments. So, if you’ve been waiting for the next piano-based action film, well, this isn’t quite it, but I can promise you some powerful solo performances and a whole lot of angst.
Adrien Brody, who won an Academy Award for his performance, gives us a portrayal of Szpilman that is so heartbreakingly subtle you’ll feel like you’ve aged 20 years by the end of it. His character doesn't go on any major physical transformations or have epic speeches that inspire revolutions—he just keeps surviving and occasionally tinkling the ivories, which sounds like the most passive survival tactic until you realize it’s the thing keeping him sane and, somehow, alive. There’s one scene where he plays for a German officer (played by Thomas Kretschmann), and for a few moments, the horrors of war seem to pause all thanks to a well-played piano sonata. It’s like the world’s most unexpected "musical number." You almost expect him to break into a show tune, but instead, the officer gives a somber nod. It’s awkwardly beautiful.
The cinematography by Pawel Edelman deserves a shout-out, too. The film is mostly muted tones of gray and brown like the world is made of dust and despair but then every now and then, the piano itself shines like a beacon of hope, providing an escape from the gritty despair that surrounds Szpilman. The camera lingers on the ruined landscapes and bombed-out buildings in a way that makes you feel like you’re watching history unfold through the lens of someone just trying to survive it. The quiet tension in the air is palpable every corner feels like it could be the last, and every moment of silence is filled with the weight of possibility. But hey, no pressure, right?
Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: this is not a feel-good movie. If you’re in the mood for a movie night with friends where everyone laughs and shares popcorn, The Pianist isn’t going to be your go-to choice. The movie is grippingly sad, like, “I need a hug” sad. You’ll probably end up spending at least 10 minutes afterward questioning the entire human race and wondering how you can make the world a better place because if you don’t, you’ll be left thinking, "What’s the point of playing piano if we’re all just going to keep doing this?" Spoiler: the point is survival and the occasional reminder of humanity, which Szpilman delivers with each note played on his piano.
Would I recommend The Pianist? If you’re in the mood for something that will absolutely break your heart but also leave you with a renewed appreciation for both music and survival, then yes. If you’re just looking for a light, casual time with a couple of chuckles, maybe skip this one for now.
Review: Empire of the Sun – A Kid, a War, and Christian Bale’s First Oscar-Worthy Performance
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Empire of the Sun is the movie that proves Steven Spielberg is capable of turning even the most devastating war story into a visually stunning, emotionally gripping experience, while also making you wonder how Christian Bale was that good when he was 12 years old. This 1987 film, based on J.G. Ballard's semi-autobiographical novel, tells the story of a young British boy named Jim “Jamie” “Jim” “The Future Batman” "Gordon" "Bale" "Bale" (I’m sorry, I just can’t stop myself) who is separated from his parents during the Japanese occupation of China in World War II.
Bale, playing Jim “the orphan” "child-soldier-prep" “Gordon,” starts off as a privileged, spoiled kid living a life of luxury, but by the end of the film, he’s living through a war that leaves him about as emotionally fragile as a glass vase in a tornado. Jim’s journey is a heartbreaking one, but also an astonishing one in terms of character development and that development happens mostly on screen while Bale is still technically a child. You’d be surprised how much depth you can get from a kid who spends half the movie crying while clinging to a toy plane.
The plot follows Jim as he’s separated from his family after being interned in a Japanese prison camp. From there, it’s a slow, painful descent into survival one that involves constant suffering, existential reflection, and a weird relationship with a fellow prisoner, played by the always-quirky John Malkovich. At times, the movie feels like a full-on “Bale vs. The World” performance, with every other actor appearing as if they’re just there to help Jim make it through the horrors of war while his poor, helpless face does most of the emotional heavy-lifting.
Malkovich as Basie, a cynical, morally ambiguous American scavenger, is a great foil to Jim's more innocent, idealistic character. Their odd, strained relationship brings some much-needed dark humour and cynicism to a story that otherwise feels like it’s going to punch you in the gut every five minutes. And yes, if you’ve ever wondered what a young Christian Bale looks like doing the "I'm-a-little-too-into-having-a-deep-conversation" face, this film has you covered.
The cinematography is a beautiful contradiction to the film’s tone: vast, sweeping shots of the Chinese landscape, juxtaposed with the crushing claustrophobia of life in the internment camp. Spielberg knows how to make a war movie look downright poetic and you might find yourself distracted by how the camera captures the light, the textures, and the (sadly beautiful) destruction all around. Sure, it’s a story about war, but it looks like something you’d hang on your wall for aesthetic purposes.
The film’s emotional core is undoubtedly Bale’s performance. Seriously, this kid was so good that if he wasn’t already a cinematic legend, I would’ve been convinced that Spielberg somehow found the child-version of someone who already had experience winning Oscars. There’s nothing easy about playing a kid who goes from privileged to broken, and Bale somehow does it while looking like the last person you'd expect to carry the weight of the entire war on his tiny shoulders.
But let’s not kid ourselves: Empire of the Sun is not a feel-good movie. It’s like watching a 12-year-old learn how to become a version of himself that doesn’t scream “I am the future Batman” every time the camera zooms in on his face. The film’s conclusion hits hard, and even though the last 10 minutes make you feel like you’ve just been through an emotional marathon, you’ll walk away with that exact, “I need to sit down for a minute” feeling.
Would I recommend Empire of the Sun? Absolutely. If you’re into coming-of-age war films where you’ll probably cry like a toddler at a grocery store, but also appreciate a masterclass in child acting, you’ll love this one. It’s not a “lighthearted” film by any means, but it’s a breathtaking exploration of how humanity endures in the face of war, even through the eyes of a kid who just wanted to be a little less sad about things.
Pro tip: Make sure you have a box of tissues nearby (and maybe a therapy session afterward), because this film will take you to places you didn’t expect to go. And while you’re at it, consider giving Christian Bale a standing ovation for his performance. The man deserves one.
Review: The Thin Red Line – War, but Make It Poetry
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Watching The Thin Red Line feels less like a war movie and more like you accidentally wandered into a philosophy seminar being held in the middle of the Pacific theater. Directed by Terrence Malick, this 1998 film reimagines World War II not as a straightforward story of battles and bravery, but as a dreamy meditation on life, death, and why trees are really important. It’s the kind of war movie that might whisper, “War is hell… but isn’t the sky beautiful today?”
The film is loosely based on James Jones’ novel and focuses on the Battle of Guadalcanal, though "focus" might be a strong word. Malick’s approach to storytelling is like following a butterfly through a field: it’s beautiful, yes, but you’re not always sure where it’s going or why you’re there. One minute, soldiers are storming a hill under relentless gunfire; the next, we’re staring at a lizard and contemplating the fragility of existence. It’s a vibe.
The cast is absurdly stacked with Hollywood talent. Sean Penn, Jim Caviezel, Nick Nolte, Woody Harrelson, John Cusack, George Clooney, and John Travolta all pop up at various points. Some have substantial roles; others feel like they wandered onto the set, said a line, and then left to grab a coffee. It’s like an A-list buffet where you’re not entirely sure what you’re being served, but you’re impressed by the presentation.
Jim Caviezel’s Private Witt is the beating heart of the film, embodying Malick’s fixation on the spiritual amidst the chaos. Witt isn’t just a soldier; he’s a wandering philosopher who spends as much time pondering the meaning of life as he does dodging bullets. Opposite him, Nick Nolte plays Lt. Col. Tall, whose gravelly voice and relentless ambition make him seem like a guy who thinks war is just a slightly more violent corporate boardroom.
The battle scenes are breathtaking and brutal, though they often feel like interruptions in Malick’s larger mission to show you every leaf on every tree in the South Pacific. When the camera does focus on combat, it’s harrowing and visceral, reminding you that for all its poetic flourishes, this is still a war movie. But then, just as you’re bracing for more action, the film cuts to a soldier staring wistfully at the horizon, contemplating his place in the universe.
The cinematography is stunning. Every shot looks like it belongs in an art gallery, and the lush landscapes of Guadalcanal practically steal the show. Malick’s obsession with nature is so pronounced that by the end, you might feel guilty about ever stepping on grass. The film’s score, composed by Hans Zimmer, is hauntingly beautiful, adding an extra layer of melancholy to the already introspective tone.
But let’s be honest: The Thin Red Line is not for everyone. If you’re looking for a tightly-plotted war film with clear objectives and a sense of urgency, this isn’t it. At nearly three hours long, it often feels like Malick is less interested in telling a story and more interested in asking, “What is a story, anyway?” It’s a war movie that would rather ruminate than shoot, which can be frustrating if you came for explosions and strategy instead of whispered voiceovers and existential dread.
Would I recommend it? Yes, if you’re in the mood for a war movie that prioritises vibes over victories. The Thin Red Line is visually stunning, emotionally complex, and deeply contemplative, like Saving Private Ryan decided to spend a semester abroad studying philosophy. It’s a film that makes you feel something, even if what you’re feeling is occasionally, “Wait, what’s happening again?”
Just be prepared for a lot of staring. At the sky, at the grass, at other people staring at the sky and the grass. It’s war as only Terrence Malick could tell it equal parts profound and perplexing.
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