Pearl Harbor

Some day, I have no doubt, someone is going to make a movie that is a week long. So long that you have to order in food, that you have to have nap time built in, that you have to have your mail stopped while you watch it. That movie will cost a billion dollars to make, and the studio will make it, of course, in the hope that it will earn at least a billion and one dollars. Well, we’re not quite there yet, but with “Pearl Harbor,” the Michael Bay-directed historical dramataganza, we are on the way. It used to be that movies over a certain length would be turned down by the studios, because exhibitors would not want movies that could only be shown two or three times per day. How, then, to account for this ballooning of movies and budgets? Call it the Costco-ization of Hollywood. This philosophy, embodied by the discount store chain, is founded upon the belief that consumers are addicted to purchasing massive quantities of consumables at discount prices, even if they don’t need the stuff. Movies are, of course, consumables, so the thought of seeing a really big movie for the same low price as a little movie is viewed by the studios as an irresistible lure. They may have a point.

When a picture grows beyond being merely a movie and attains the status of event, people flock to see it, good or bad, just so they can say they participated. Even if it stinks, they can say, “I was there.” The problem is that events cannot be orchestrated. They happen organically, of their own accord, despite what the marketers (who like to proclaim every two-bit comedy as the “motion picture event of the year”) would like to believe. “Pearl Harbor” may become an event; if it doesn’t it won’t be for lack of trying. Then, of course, came James Cameron and his record setting “Titanic.” “Titanic,” while not a great movie, was better than it had any right to be, and ending up making ocean liners full of money, despite its enormous costs. Thus was born the “Titanic” formula: take a visually interesting historical event, dribble on a thin layer of wan romance, and create a huge special effects enhanced version of it, realer than real. This is a formula that Bay and screenwriter Randall Wallace (who also wrote “Braveheart”) follow to the letter with “Pearl Harbor.” The event, of course, is the notorious sneak attack of December 7, 1941. The romance is between Evelyn (Beckinsale), a young army nurse, and two fighter pilots, Rafe (Affleck) and Danny (Hartnett).

The picture has been billed as depicting “the end of America’s innocence, and the beginning of a nation’s greatest glory.” It does seem to be bathed in the golden glow of a simpler time, and it also harkens back to a different kind of movie, when impossibly thin and beautiful young stars acted out idealized longings for the camera. Whatever else “Pearl Harbor” may be, it is refreshing in its lack of irony. “Pearl Harbor” can be broken down into four distinct elements. First is a rather superfluous prelude showing Rafe and Danny as kids, learning to fly and becoming best friends in middle America. Part two, the romantic story, has Evelyn and Rafe falling in love. Rafe then goes off to fight in England’s Eagle squadron (another digression), only to be lost in battle, at which point Evelyn takes up with Danny. The events leading up to and including the climactic attack (which does not occur until about 90 minutes into the picture) make up the third part. The last part is a rather lengthy coda about the legendary Doolittle bomber raid on Japan.

This last is a noteworthy event in its own right, and could have been the subject of a its own movie, but in truth it is really not relevant to the rest of “Pearl Harbor.” They could have dispensed with it entirely and not lost anything of significance. Indeed, the same can be said for any of the elements mentioned above, which is another way of saying that Bay et al could have whittled this picture down to a lean two hours that would ultimately have had more impact, not less. From a narrative standpoint, they could even have dispensed with the actual attack itself, believe it or not, but then we would have lost the impressive visuals. The battle effects are striking, no doubt about it, and they appear to be flawless. They are also, of course, the big draw in the picture, and it is hard not to be moved by the suffering depicted, and by the sight of dead American sailors floating in the harbor. It is also hard not to be enraged by the complacency and slipshod command structure that allowed the Japanese fleet to succeed, despite several advance warnings.

We should not allow ourselves to fall into the trap of letting Hollywood recreation stand in for historical document, but the filmmakers (who readily admit that the movie is a blend of fact and fiction), appear to have done their homework. In a way, maybe that is what the movie “Pearl Harbor” is all about. Maybe what the public hungers for, more than sheer movie quantity, is a camera-ready synopsis of the tragedy, an easy to follow Cliff Note to history, without all the distracting smoke and poor focus that usually characterize actual documentary footage. Let’s face it, would anyone go to see this movie if it was about a fictional attack on a place called Green Harbor? I don’t think so, yet people will go to see “Pearl Harbor” in droves, which is probably a reflection of the timeless hold that the events at Pearl have on the American psyche. Perhaps this is a good thing, if it does anything at all to prevent such senseless acts in the future. It certainly lets me feel better about the tax dollars which go to support the military and intelligence establishments. “Pearl Harbor,” then, is not just another Michael Bay schlockbuster.

It takes an event of real significance and treats it with, if not brilliance, at least respect, and for that Bay and his movie deserve credit. If he tries to do too much with too little, at least it is in the service of a story that deserves telling. So go see “Pearl Harbor.” You may yawn through the tepid romances, but you are just as likely to weep at the vision of young Americans cut down in their prime, and at an event the name of which has become shorthand for dishonorable and duplicitous acts for all time. (5/30/2001)