The Patriot

Written by: Robert Rodat Starring: Mel Gibson, Chris Cooper, Joely Richardson, Heath Ledger, Jason Isaacs, Tchéky Karyo, Rene Auberjonois, Adam Baldwin, Tom Wilkinson

Note to future despots and tyrants: Don’t make Mel Gibson angry. If you do, he is liable to completely ruin your day... or your war... or your empire. He did it to the English in “Braveheart,” and now he does it again to, well, the English, in “The Patriot.” (Boy, the English must be getting tired of him.) Come to think of it, to greater or lesser effect, Mel ruins the day of people who anger him in most of his movies (“Ransom,” “Payback,” “Mad Max,” and the “Lethal Weapon” series come to mind).

But then, I guess that’s what movie stars do; they battle bad guys on our behalf as we cheer. Here is the story: a man unusually skilled at warfare is roused by personal loss to lead his oppressed people in battle against a brutal regime. If you think you’ve heard it before, you’re right. It's “Braveheart” all over again. Roland Emmerich directs this latest epic with a high degree of skill and energy. He is nothing if not ambitious, taking on the entire American Revolution as his canvas (the words “taxation without representation” are even spoken aloud). (In fact, he is intent on following the war to Cornwallis’s final surrender, which may be a bit more of a good thing than we need.) Robert Rodat’s (who wrote the equally big “Saving Private Ryan”) script pushes all the right buttons, establishing the backdrop of the fomenting revolution in the Colonies, with Gibson’s Benjamin Martin sitting it out as controversy swirls all around him. He spends his time managing his plantation and trying to build rocking chairs that don’t collapse when he sits on them. His eldest son Gabriel (Ledger) wants to enlist and go to war to fight for his principles, an idea that Martin strongly opposes.

He wants to protect his family, believing that if war comes “the innocent will die along with the rest of us.” Not surprisingly, he is correct. From the moment we see Martin and his photogenically perfect family, we know that before too long, trouble--in the form of the dastardly Redcoats--is coming home to roost. From the moment that Martin (known as the “Hero of Fort Wilderness” during the French and Indian War for reasons that we finally learn much, much later in the picture) declares at a public meeting that he “will not fight,” we know with absolute certainty that he will fight. And from the moment that the evil British, led by the especially evil Colonel Tavington (a very good Isaacs) commit a horrible act of violence (the first of many) upon Martin’s family, we know that the British have bitten off more than they can chew. They have riled up the wrong guy. Tavington’s vicious act not only sets Martin’s revenge in motion, but it sparks what is by far the most intense and riveting sequence in the film. Fueled by rage and grief, Martin is transformed in an instant from a kind-hearted farmer into a killing machine. Dragging his two youngest sons with him to provide cover, he ambushes the British party who have taken Gabriel captive.

Before his sons’ stunned eyes, Martin decimates the hapless Redcoats. Score: Martin family 20, British 1. He ends by hacking one of the Redcoats to pieces, spending the last of his anger, and, literally covered with blood, walks back towards the boys, as they stare at him with a mixture of fear and admiration. The sequence is fast and extremely brutal, but executed with great clarity. It also raises a theme that in some ways is more interesting than the rest of the film: what happens when children learn that their father is not at all what they thought? What happens when a man drops his disguise and reveals his inner self? Martin’s true nature is writ large by his actions, and his sons see him in a whole new light. I almost wish they had stopped the film right there, for this theme is subsequently dropped wholesale.

In fact, not too much later in the picture, Gabriel is still giving his father lip, which, having seen his father in action, struck me as unlikely. Nevertheless, having had his killer instincts unleashed, Martin joins up with the rebels, and puts together his own unruly band of militia (the distinction between militia and regular army is important to the picture), aided by the French officer Villeneuve (Karyo). (And by the way, in the future, when you make jokes about the French, remember that they did help us during the Revolution.) This band of irregulars then serves to wreak havoc among the British forces, in the manner made famous to millions of schoolchildren who have studied the war: the Americans hide behind fences and rocks, while the British march in straight lines, wearing bright red coats. Martin now has another nickname (“The Ghost”) bestowed upon him by British soldiers baffled and frightened by his unconventional fighting style. He earns the enmity of General Cornwallis (Tom Wilkinson, whom many will remember from “The Full Monty”) who eventually authorizes the evil Colonel Tavington to destroy Martin by any means necessary. (Previously the General had been angry at Tavington’s ungentlemanly behavior.) Tavington embarks on his mission with single-minded intensity, growing more ruthless with every minute.

And once again he visits destruction upon the Martin clan. Benjamin Martin’s response? Does he get mad and get even, as he did before? No. He now decides that the cost of the conflict is more than he can bear, so he sulks in his tent like Achilles. It is this sort of inconsistency of character that undermines the movie’s overall impact. Another example: for the purposes of the picture I am perfectly willing to believe that Martin invented the concept of hit and run guerilla warfare. What I find harder to accept is that, at the very end, when it counts the most, he abandons his highly successful tactics and allows his men to be lined up like cattle for slaughter. Perhaps the need for historical accuracy outweighed dramatic concerns, but it tends to dilute the impact of what has come before. The audience is primed to see Martin's tactical brilliance reach its pinnacle in the big battle, but all he does is (a) ride by with the flag to inspire his men (didn’t Kevin Costner do something very much like this in “Dances With Wolves”?); and later (b) rally his men by charging forward into the face of the enemy during the battle (didn’t Mel Gibson himself do something very much like this in “Braveheart”?).

The point is, at the crucial moment, the film ignores what made Martin interesting, and substitutes rather conventional hero stuff. Even his climactic fight (in the middle of the larger battle) with Tavington is something of a letdown. Among its virtues, the picture is beautifully photographed and staged with what appears to be a high degree of authenticity. Emmerich manages his cast of thousands as well as any real general. The movie is even leavened with some (quite welcome) humor. But the problem with epics is that they are so... epic, which is another way of saying that the challenge of making a good epic is making the global personal--and the personal global.

Ultimately, “The Patriot” falls short because it never really gets beyond the personal. Benjamin Martin is mad, all right, and with good reason. But the movie never really makes his transition from aggrieved parent to leader of an emerging nation believable, and that is why it never quite rises to the level of “Braveheart.” In that picture, William Wallace (Gibson again) starts out with a personal vendetta, but by the end he has come to embody the larger struggle (and ultimately gives his life for it). There may be a point at which treating profound historical events as a personal trial no more important than a playoff game begins to diminish both the events and the person. In “The Patriot,” Mel Gibson never quite achieves the grandeur of “the patriot.” Instead, he remains “the angry father,” terrible and true, indeed, but perhaps not quite enough for the American Revolution. (7/6/2000)