★★★½
Compassion is an odd thing to carry into battle and yet, war movies can’t seem to live without it. Perhaps that’s because it’s easier to follow the soldier than it is the war. As if fields of carnage and clouded crumbs of soot and smoke didn’t elicit enough awe, when it comes to large-scale conflict, filmmakers have resorted mostly to crescendo critiques: the overarching fables of brigades and platoons somehow capture the wide-ranging war experience.
Gettysburg, Ron Maxwell and Ted Turner’s nearly-five-hour spectacle, is not one of those movies. More frenetic than a re-enactment (though thousands of Civil War hobbyists participated in the production as unpaid extras), less assuming than a lecture, and even less sentimental than a Hollywood drama, every moment of the film is dedicated to the action, strategy, and heroism that helped turn the tide of the Civil War against the South.
Based on the Pulitzer Prize winning novel The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara, Gettysburg leaps between its highest-ranking officers through its most pivotal confrontations, from Union General Buford’s (Sam Elliott) initial defense to Confederate General Pickett’s (Stephen Lang) final charge.
While it’s too focused for standard characters, both the film and history have the benefit of including perhaps the war’s grandest and most challenging figure: Robert E. Lee (Martin Sheen). That first week of July in 1863 would end up being Lee’s most ambitious crusade of the Civil War, one inspired, by all things, from the sight of the finish line – should Gettysburg fall, thought Lee, so shall Washington. But witnessing over 50,000 dead by Independence Day, it would be the crux of the Confederacy that collapsed, not the Union.
Watching Gettysburg in 2020, as the legacies of its well-drawn era constantly coincide with our own struggles (the horrific tragedy at Charlottesville in 2017 was inspired, at least in part, by a commemorative statue of Lee), can be vexing. Maxwell’s sympathetic monologues for Sheen are particularly unfulfilling – though many figures, on both sides, weakly grapple with the purpose of the war – and while the romantic South is something that Maxwell would spend more time illustrating in Gods and Generals a decade later,if anything, Gettysburg sweetens the entire pot.
Both sides’ bravery and sacrifice are highlighted – coinciding with essential up-and-down conflicts of the battle – and everything is amplified by Randy Edelman’s gallant score. But even as the film jumps fences and swaps colors, perhaps there’s no sequence more harrowing than Union Col. Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain’s (Jeff Daniels) pinnacle defense of Little Round Top. Low on supplies and greatly outnumbered, few processions in film have ever spoken to the same stamina, desperation and determination that go into combat.
Strange philosophies, yet intriguing discussions stem from the roles of Lieut. General James Longstreet (Tom Berenger), Lee’s right hand man, and Brig. General Lewis Armistead (Richard Jordan). Fatigue and pride both contribute to these leaders, as do long military careers that make the enemy more dimensional than the color blue. Unfortunately, Maxwell leads both into stepping too far towards cinematic glory. In Berenger’s case, one wickedly haphazard conversation is unfair, and in Jordan’s, his final moments are given as grand a sendoff as Enjolras atop the Corinthe.
But what pushes the movie beyond frustration and actually makes it worthy of consideration is its obsessions with accuracy and history. Not only did Turner and Co. drop $20 million into the film (a mammoth and probably permanent investment for a 271-minute historical epic), but Maxwell managed to convince the National Park Service to shoot on the actual battleground. Gracious plains and sight-pinching forests remind us not only of the beauty that served as the backdrop to a once-broken country (soldiers and officers regularly refer to it as “good ground:” a strong position, but also a great place to die), but for those of us who like asking tour guides questions, there’s a great deal of information to be consumed.
It’s important to note that while accuracy was a top priority – legend has it that a team of advisors corrected the most minute and inconsequential mistakes in the script – its inspiration, The Killer Angels, is a work of fiction. Dissecting dialogue will get you nowhere (unsteady ground for debate given that this film has been used in American history classes) but observing the technical prowess of both the military officers and its reproducers is a great and stimulating experience.
Fortunately, the “line up in a field” approach to combat has long passed us (not to mention the fact that we don’t use American fields anymore), but even so, it’s easy to get swept up by the majesty of the process; by the end of Gettysburg, I had a completely different understanding, appreciation and fear for 19th century warfare. And no film has ever made me engage with the Civil War that way before.
by Luke Parker
