In ‘The Thin Red Line’ by Terence Malick, American troops pass by jungles with a statue of Buddha hidden ever so distantly, and then barge in to fiercely intimidate an utterly submissive brunch of rag-tag Japanese army who flay their arms sideways, heads lopping in dreary fatigue, as if embodying figure of bloodied Christ. As opposing factions during the World War, they fight the battle of Guadalcanal, amidst the swaying shades of green and diverse scenery, serving as a perfect antithesis to the gore, inhumanity and personal horrors.
At times, the identification of each of the voice-over characters dissolves as one blends into the other, each with their inner monologue sharing worldviews and philosophies. Whether one is reminiscing about the heavenly abode, metaphysical existence or lady-love homogenizes into fluid rhetorical ruminations - the thought-boundaries of individual identity blurs when the basic tenets of humanity are under siege. And perhaps there could not be better private dreamscapes than one gifted by Nature itself - its patterns, colours, moods and motifs are eternal objects of wonder. It is simply not the act of gazing at the Nature bountiful, from the perspective of being enamoured by the profundity, but that it itself is the fantastical vista which warring soldiers seek recourse to in the face of devastation. The gaze of escape does not take flight to some place off the charts, but finds solace, fixated here - ‘hami asto, hamin ast’.
Youth rushes towards its own annihilation as war entices them with the halo of far-reaching public glory and eternal remembrance. Even though his ‘ass is blown off’ in a sudden, rash act, the soldier wants him to be remembered as one died fighting heroically; a timid soldier commits his first shoot-down of the opponent and earnestly seeks acknowledgement from colleagues to vindicate his self-worth. The naiveté of his belief that one stray death might bring the war to a close is an ironical chuckle at the abject loss of innocence.
Humanity exhibited by Staros is in stark contrast to Lt. Col. Tall whose inhumane ways to treating foot-soldiers as nothing more than fallouts of a violent situation, only in order to further his accomplishments and ambitions he has waited so long. Tall's benumbed sensibility can only muster institutional recognition in form of badges and wartime merits as rewards for Staros standing tall amidst open mayhem.
Bell’s recollection of his beloved, depicted as choreography of entanglement, intimacy and bodily actions of touch and romance, come forth multiple times, all accompanied by his own voice-over. In one such occasion –“You give calm a spirit ... understanding ... courage - the contented heart” - the deeply evocative oneness is palpable; yet the viewer is not rushed to sympathy towards Bell on her appeal to separate. The film’s own agenda of focussing on distressed soldiers barely represents the female associates far away. As such, Hill’s partner’s projection appear only as inchoate object of desire, nothing much of skin and bones, who speaks not; the silhouettes and touches of her being the escapades of a jarred male mind.
The contemplative questions, loaded with enormity of existentialism, at times seems naive, which may be because they come emerge from minds of novices walking into combat, or probably, all deeply existentialist questions are apparently poised simple.
At times, the identification of each of the voice-over characters dissolves as one blends into the other, each with their inner monologue sharing worldviews and philosophies. Whether one is reminiscing about the heavenly abode, metaphysical existence or lady-love homogenizes into fluid rhetorical ruminations - the thought-boundaries of individual identity blurs when the basic tenets of humanity are under siege. And perhaps there could not be better private dreamscapes than one gifted by Nature itself - its patterns, colours, moods and motifs are eternal objects of wonder. It is simply not the act of gazing at the Nature bountiful, from the perspective of being enamoured by the profundity, but that it itself is the fantastical vista which warring soldiers seek recourse to in the face of devastation. The gaze of escape does not take flight to some place off the charts, but finds solace, fixated here - ‘hami asto, hamin ast’.
Youth rushes towards its own annihilation as war entices them with the halo of far-reaching public glory and eternal remembrance. Even though his ‘ass is blown off’ in a sudden, rash act, the soldier wants him to be remembered as one died fighting heroically; a timid soldier commits his first shoot-down of the opponent and earnestly seeks acknowledgement from colleagues to vindicate his self-worth. The naiveté of his belief that one stray death might bring the war to a close is an ironical chuckle at the abject loss of innocence.
Humanity exhibited by Staros is in stark contrast to Lt. Col. Tall whose inhumane ways to treating foot-soldiers as nothing more than fallouts of a violent situation, only in order to further his accomplishments and ambitions he has waited so long. Tall's benumbed sensibility can only muster institutional recognition in form of badges and wartime merits as rewards for Staros standing tall amidst open mayhem.
Bell’s recollection of his beloved, depicted as choreography of entanglement, intimacy and bodily actions of touch and romance, come forth multiple times, all accompanied by his own voice-over. In one such occasion –“You give calm a spirit ... understanding ... courage - the contented heart” - the deeply evocative oneness is palpable; yet the viewer is not rushed to sympathy towards Bell on her appeal to separate. The film’s own agenda of focussing on distressed soldiers barely represents the female associates far away. As such, Hill’s partner’s projection appear only as inchoate object of desire, nothing much of skin and bones, who speaks not; the silhouettes and touches of her being the escapades of a jarred male mind.
The contemplative questions, loaded with enormity of existentialism, at times seems naive, which may be because they come emerge from minds of novices walking into combat, or probably, all deeply existentialist questions are apparently poised simple.
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