The Patriot (2000)

The Patriot is an ambitious epic, exhausting more for the emotional toll than for its running time.

Mel Gibson inhabits the character of Revolutionary War hero Benjamin Martin with the fierce physicality and the emotional range that has made him a big-screen icon of righteous and apparently heroic rage. After suffering a personal attack by the British, Martin struggles to control that kind of rage as he leads effective counterattacks on them. The story that unfolds is episodic and formulaic, with few surprises. But it is packed with full-scale battles, sneaky rifle shooting in the woods, and risky strategizing between desperate men. The movie will be a thrill for audiences who like their heroes big and strong, their tragedies multiple and devastating, and their movies simple and straightforward. In other words, if your problem with Braveheart was that it wasn’t about America, here's your movie.

Unfortunately, if you’re looking for anything philosophically, intellectually, or historically enlightening, the waters here are pretty shallow. It only tells us things we already know (or think we know), and it repeats those simple claims often and loudly.

A Good Strong Hero

Popular culture is in a sort of teenage-rebellion phase, currently obsessed with challenging and de-mythologizing the authoritative historical figures we were taught to revere. It is, in some ways, a cynical trend. In other ways, it’s a turn toward truthfulness. One can hardly imagine what the next biopic on Abraham Lincoln or George Washington might look like — but I’d argue we need those films. These days, it seems that the name Thomas Jefferson doesn’t come up without the disclaimer that he was an enslaver — and worse, that he used a slave for sex. Some find that disrespectful, while others answer, "How about respecting those he harmed?"

As much as I’m in favor of examining these narratives, that responsibility comes with another consideration: We need to tell stories truthfully in such a way that audiences are not disillusioned about the importance of striving for strong moral character. No one should respond to discovery of the indiscretions of “great leaders” by feeling better about their own.

I must give The Patriot some credit for striving to show us an admirable national hero, a man who puts his life on the line for family and country. It’s good that the big screen still has room for heroes who honestly and wholeheartedly strive to be good men. Seeing the good and the bad in a hero can provide some balanced perspective, but I prefer to zoom in on a character’s strengths rather than his weaknesses.

However, I must also add that The Patriot, although it depicts a hero who is, in some ways, admirable, it still marches right into dangerously nationalistic storytelling. It is so caught up in its own salute to one man’s nobility, and to the “glory” of men who fought for freedom, that very little rings true. Early America is painted with too soft a brush. There are, I am learning, historically documented instances of British soldiers carrying out the cruelty we see manifested by this film's villain. There were slaves who have been freed who chose to work for their former enslavers. And there were, I’m sure, heroes. But this film gathers these exceptions together into a bundle for the sake of arresting drama. The result is, as far as I can tell, a skewed and misleading portrait of the war and the times.

An Idealized World

The film’s greatest technical achievement, its collection of battle sequences, is not necessarily something worth boasting over. There are many prolonged, slow-motion battle sequences that flaunt authentic weapons and innumerable convincing slow-mo deaths. Director Roland Emmerich (Godzilla, Independence Day) likes to slow down the movie’s epic battles, so audiences can appreciate the exquisite details of the bloody conflicts. While his hero is conscience-stricken about killing, Emmerich sure enjoys serving it up in generous helpings.

Off the battlefield, The Patriot looks more like adventure-novel illustrations than a historic recreation. Our heroes walk through nothing but the most gorgeous scenery. Their clothes never look lived in. They exist in rooms that are free of dust or signs of regular activity. It reminds me of a history play at an elementary school. And the dialogue provided for the characters by screenwriter Robert Rodat (Saving Private Ryan) isn’t much more interesting. They speak in bland and ponderous conversations, without any hint of personality or dialect. It makes you long for a script revision by the Coen Brothers or Billy Bob Thornton.

But it’s not just the simplicity that bothers me. It is the manipulation. The film doesn’t hesitate to grab the bluntest instruments to make you cry, to make you angry, to make you cheer, to make you so emotional that you can’t think straight.

Making Sure the Audience Cheers

Right away, Colonel William Tavington (Jason Issacs), the British officer who leads the offense against our hero, is shown to be a sneering rebel, a madman with authority, a sadistic butcher who does not follow the codes of British military conduct. He throws down the gauntlet early, murdering a young boy, one of Martin’s sons. Later he smilingly rounds up a whole village and burns them to death. All he needs is a big black cape and heavy, distorted breathing.

It’s true, the Revolutionary War was fraught with heinous war crimes. This does not make it fair, however, to stack the deck in this film and call it “historicism.” Making Darth Tavington the sole focus of our aggression turns our sympathies with inappropriate force and prejudice against the British. Other Brits — including the orderly Cornwallis — are shown grumbling about Tavington’s methods. But Tavington is still the central representative of the British in this film. Everything leans toward giving him what he has coming.

This burning of the villagers in a church is, according to a recent article on Salon.com, a crime that the Nazis committed once, not something the British actually did. Having used “artistic license” so freely, Emmerich and Rodat are sure to have the audience up in arms, shouting for the death of Darth Tavington. No need to waste time with a historically accurate portrayal when you can just embellish and make the enemy like the Nazis at their worst. That’ll rile the crowd up real good.

Emmerich doesn’t stop there. He’s going to get us teary-eyed if he has to sucker-punch us to do it. So, he brings up slavery, something we all agree on, something we all can get emotional about. But he oversimplifies that too.

The one Black member of the militia is nothing more than a token here; he doesn’t get any lines except as the spokesman for enslaved people who dream of a free world. The “slaves” that work for Benjamin Martin here have been conveniently “set free” and are so enamored of his spotless family that they serve him “of their own free will.” Later, when the Revolutionary War is over, they can’t wait to start building a “New World” ... by voluntarily continuing their current servitude instead of pursuing their own families, their own lives.

In fact, any Black character in The Patriot is there either to make inspiring remarks about freedom from slavery, or to further accentuate how great the hero is. We don’t have to deal with a single, suffering enslaved human being in the whole bunch. Once again, the movie is providing us with fuel for emotions, not something to think about, not evidence of the more difficult and complex realities of the time. It is true that there were people who, when they were freed from enslavement, chose to serve their former enslavers freely. But here again, The Patriot has given us an exception to the rule because it is more palatable to the audience and heightens the emotional drama. If Martin was portrayed as having slaves that forced us to confront the reality of actual slavery, we would think less of him. It would have made him more... human. That would have run the risk of asking the audience to think for themselves.

Any storytelling that pretends something complex is actually something simple is irresponsible storytelling and bad art. It is on the complex issue of whether violent retaliation was the best method that Emmerich is most manipulative.

Thou Shalt Violently Retaliate

One scene best sums it up: When a reverend is ministering to his congregation, a soldier walks in and asks men to join him and enlist in the armed resistance. The reverend, interrupted and annoyed, questions whether this is appropriate timing. It is, after all, a worship service. He is quickly admonished. Within seconds, the apologetic minister is shown awkwardly fumbling for his own rifle. “A shepherd must protect his flock,” he says, rushing out to shoot the British. Our heroes smile — the poor fool has decided to be a real man! The music crescendos. Clearly, in this movie’s moral structure, anybody who hesitates to respond to the British immediately, with violence, is misguided. In this saga of Americans fighting for a free country, freedom of opinion, it seems, is frowned on. Any complication caused by the conscience seems inconvenient. The reverend is not allowed to question the primal, vengeful impulse. He is not afforded a free will, his religious convictions are brushed aside.

Be careful. The movie already has you cheering for the things you agree with. Are you sure, though, that you agree with this? Is this particular issue so black and white?

Nobody gets to question the morality of the colonists’ violent opposition — except Benjamin Martin. But his hesitation at the film’s beginning is shown as fear and worry over his family, not a true moral conviction about violence. Later, when the violence has hit home, he says he is ashamed about doing nothing. Again, we are told that the cost of warfare makes it a moral imperative to become violently involved.

There are often other ways of dealing with oppression. If there aren’t, why didn’t Christ urge the oppressed Jews to take up arms? A film review doesn’t give me the time or space to mount an argument for pacifism as the colonists’ best option. I believe, though, we should respect and consider the thoughts of those who examine other ways of retaliating than wrathful violence — ways more in line with the teachings and example of Jesus, or the ministry and strategies of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King.

Mel Gibson as... Mel Gibson?

A fellow critic has persuaded me that The Patriot is a more responsible film than Braveheart. (The hero actually resists the pull to get revenge.) But because it follows the basic Braveheart formula, there’s not much new here. The battlefields look the same, except for the uniforms and weapons. And the music sounds the same... big, patriotic, and John-Williams-ish (this time it is John Williams.) In spite of his attempts to vary his roles (Payback) Gibson has become predictable in action movies. They become countdowns to a bloody showdown and a pious speech. It worked best in his performance as Hamlet. (He’ll never find a better screenwriter than Shakespeare!)

Benjamin Martin, in this film’s portrayal, is a dutiful man, bound by honor to family and country. But he is haunted by his past war crimes, and his conscience is strong. We do see one particular moment when that old monster within him reawakens against the British, and for a moment the film comes to life with a frightening brilliance. Our hero acts inappropriately. But even this loses its sting, merely because of who we are watching. It might be a character flaw for Benjamin Martin, but it’s what Mel Gibson does best. As any Gibson Guy must do, Martin remains restrained until the breaking point. Then the camera zooms in on Gibson’s best trick... the eyes dull, the face drains of expression, and the animal takes over. Mad Max has returned.

Not only that, but Benjamin’s eldest son Gabriel (Heath Ledger), who provides the obligatory love story (another important part of the film’s well-worn formula), appears to make his debut as the next Mel Gibson. Many moviegoers will love Gabriel because he’s an echo of classic Gibson — the rebel with a cause who gets the girl, has his own revenge score to settle, and his own glorious bloody showdown. Two Mad Maxes for the price of one!

So, if you want another Mel Gibson-brand epic, with simple, dramatic, “noble” gestures… this is your movie.

But if you want a truly inspiring film about war, nobility, and freedom, rent Kenneth Branagh’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s Henry V. With less than half the budget, and with language that’s delicious to recite, Branagh will inspire you to be a patriot of great character. Roland Emmerich knows a cannon can do a lot of damage, but Shakespeare knew that a well-crafted speech can inspire a thousand soldiers.

I am so weary of seeing the same movie, with minor variations, played over and over again. Sure, these are moral heroes and detestable villains. But so what? This year’s Gladiator had a little life in its dialogue, and a few pleasing new twists, but, like The Patriot, it still boiled down to this: “You killed someone in my family... so I will, eventually, impale you on something.” In the name of freedom. Of nobility. Of America. Of Ireland. Of Rome. Or whatever. It all boils down to an endorsement of violence as a way to resolve differences.

Today’s history lesson: History goes on teaching us nothing.