Lessons from the Movies: In the Valley of Elah
Is it possible to make a movie about people that illustrates a larger point about a structural and systemic concept? As we work with documentary filmmakers and the fantastic folks at Active Voice, I’ve been struggling with this question.
We aim to share a larger construct and in particular, build public will for policy action to address a particular problem. How do we do this within the popular culture?
Viewing In the Valley of Elah with my mother and two of her friends – all reliably progressive women, I was struck again by the difficulty we face in telling a story when everyone has a different lens for viewing.
Spoiler alert: The post below will reveal some details about the movie that you might rather not know until after you see it.
Even as I was watching the movie slowly reveal the horrors faced by military in Iraq…. I wondered whether the storyteller intended for viewers to see this as a lesson about the horrendous impact of war on soldiers, or a morality tale about “bad people” who got into the regular army when standards for recruiting were lowered to meet quotas.
What the soldiers do upon return from Iraq makes them seem evil or insane…and the descriptions of their actions in Iraq despicable at times, a distasteful necessity at others. But, are these actions caused by the horrors of war, or simply actions of “bad people” who will be bad no matter where they are or what we try to do about it?
After the movie, we talked about the possible impact on opinions regarding Iraq. Others seemed initially certain that people who see the movie will be hard pressed to defend war – this war in particular. This is an interesting discussion in part because it appears the movie may reach beyond the usual lefty audience for a Michael Moore film since it stars Tommy Lee Jones and appears in previews to be something of a mystery-thriller.
The movie is based on the true story of one father looking for his son, recently returned from Iraq and deemed AWOL by his superiors. The movie slowly reveals that the young man was killed by fellow members of his troop and the credits include a reference to a web site about the dead man.
When we got home, I found the website, home for a foundation dedicated to ensuring the military ends the practice of lowering standards for admission. “The Richard T. Davis Foundation for Peace has been created to remind everyone of the importance in making sure people are properly screened for mental disorders and criminal dispositions prior to being admitted into military service. We want to raise the bar on the all-time low recruitment standards in place now, so that the honorable men and women who serve our nation don't have to do it alongside criminals and murderers. Our troops deserve better than that.”
In the film, the murderer describes himself as surprised to look down and see that he is stabbing the soldier who dies. We already know that the dead man suffered multiple stab wounds, before the others chopped him up and tried to burn his body – instead of taking the time to bury him because they got hungry and it was getting late. (See how it sounds even as I write about from the distance of two days? Can this really about the horrors of wartime after-effects?)
Some reporting indicates that the real-life father – a former military policeman – does not believe that Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder was a factor in his son’s murder.
Paul Haggis, the film’s writer, director, and producer described his effort in an interview:
PAUL HAGGIS: I wanted to tell a story that asked bigger questions than that story actually did. I didn’t want to answer the question: "Who killed this particular soldier?” Although I wanted to use all the events of that, I wanted to ask: "What’s happening to our men and women?” So rather than keep it focused on "Oh yes. That’s right. That’s the guy who’s guilty. Now we found out.” You’ll see the movie is structured in such a way that it begins with a murder mystery. It beings with "Ah, we know what this is. We’re trying to find the guy who did this.” And then three quarters of the way through the film, I start to tell you that’s not important any more.
It’s not who did it. It’s who is responsible that we’re interested in, and it goes from a murder mystery to a moral mystery. It’s still a mystery, but I do this sleight of hand. I didn’t know if you were going to sit through it or like it or not. I sort of messed with the rules of screenwriting there. You’re not supposed to do that. A genre is a genre is a genre. Your hero is the guy who solves the crime and gets to the end, and this hero you just see him debilitated by this and you get to the end and people just start handing him clues and people confess. I knew what I was doing. That breaks all the rules. But I wanted to talk about his journey and our journey – where we are in America and ask questions about where we are in America right now and what’s happening.
I’m still wondering if some will see the movie and come to a different conclusion than Haggis intended. Will some see it as a comment on the kind of people in today’s military?
When you put a real face on any issue, is it possible to ensure that viewers will see the larger picture – the systemic issue that is an umbrella over the real person in the story? I’d like to think so – but, I’m reminded again of how hard that is to do – and how our own lens on the story can get in the way of remembering that other people may have a different starting place.