Empire of the Sun

When: 1987, Bale's fourth film

Age: 12-13

Genre/Director: True story, Spielberg

Mike says I usually avoid this type of film, and, as my viewing reminded me last night, I probably will for the rest of my life. I can recognize that it’s a powerful and well-made film. But for me, a war movie needs something fictional (aliens, giant robots, elves, Time Lords, etc.) in order to make it tolerable.

Instead, I have to choke down a film where HORRIBLE things happen to a young child, such as being separated from a parent, witnessing multiple deaths, war time violence, starvation, and captivity all without the benefit of any fictional “spoonful of sugar” equivalent to ease the passage of such bitter and depressing events.

While I have a whole rant about this topic in general, I’ll save it and just say that I avoid serious, heart-wrenching dramas for the same reason I avoid the news- -it stresses me out!

As such, I really don’t have many positive things to say about the film. I think the film is beautiful to look at, and found that it didn’t feel dated or old by any standard; in fact, it is only the young faces of known actors that really show how old the movie is.

I  have to credit Christian Bale; even as a young man, he was a phenomenal actor. Every part of his emotional journey, even those parts that don’t have any real moral other than pure suffering, is believable. Bale is instantly believable and unlikable as the spoiled brat, and through his journey, we see him grow… though I can’t say if he ever becomes likable. I don’t sympathize or empathize with the character… rather, I pity him. Lost in a world beyond his comprehension, he has no choice but to slowly lose his grip on his values, his sanity, and nearly reality itself.

For a 12-year-old actor to so convincingly portray a descent into madness (that wasn't caused by hormones) is really quite impressive.

So impressive and believable was his performance that it merely enhanced the pure agony I experienced while enduring the film. I have no doubt that the film is historically accurate (and looks as much), and I have no trouble imagining several children went through a very similar journey.  And I have to admit that the film is excellently made, directed, and acted.

 But here’s the thing . . . Real life can be so damned depressing, it’s really not much fun to dwell on the horrible things that happen to people . . . especially not as a form of entertainment.

Even worse is the brutal reality that Spielberg hammers in with each horrible incident--not only are these thing awful, but they are meaningless, random happenings without cause or explanation. Sure, these are consequences of war, but there’s still no one for Jim to hold responsible. The film is the story of his coming to grips with just how unforgiving life can be. His going mad seems to be the only rational action he can take in a world so empty of hope.

The end of the film was the director's last chance to redeem himself in my eyes; the last chance to explain to me, justify, what I had endured with the character. What lesson had I learned? What truth would I be rewarded with? Instead, we’re given only the scene of parents discovering the remains of their child--a scarred and traumatized child that may never lead a normal life. I understand that this is a very jaded and cynical view of the end of the film, but two things should be taken into consideration.

First, I work in children’s mental health, and I’ve seen that traumatic events aren’t so easily overcome as Hollywood would like us to think. And second, it’s a cynical and jaded film that takes no opportunity to show the good side of the world. Jim sees only misery, even to the point that the two things that seem to bring him hope--God and Airplanes--both lose their magic with the news of the dropping of the atomic bomb.

The good news is that after a film like this, Shakespeare is going to feel downright CHEERFUL.

Kate says the remarkable aspect of this film is the lack of heavy-messaging (which often shows up in Spielberg's later films). The story is so entirely from Jim's point of view that the film remains almost one of observation rather than commentary.

The observation does bring to light several fascinating ideas, such as the ability of human beings to adapt and the tendency for context to lose historical or cultural relevancy--Jim adapts to camp life with little trouble and even enjoys it. Even after the March to Nantao, he doesn't begin to place his experience into some kind of narrative until he hears the radio broadcast about the bombing of Japan: oh, this is what is happening to me.

It reminds me of the scene from Hope and Glory where the school children cheer when their school is bombed. Context is exactly what it means to them at that moment.

If there is a theme, it is rendered through Jim's relationship with Bassie. Jim undergoes a Maslow's hierarchy type of development whereby his natural, and useful, desire for survival is eradicated, rather than intensified, by the war--first, by his desire for affection; next, by his self-actualization or acknowledgment of his own situation: he is a child who has come through an impossible situation. He ends by turning his back on Bassie; although the film doesn't pass judgment on Bassie, Jim perceives that Bassie's Lord of the Flies philosophy is not enough to explain what he has gone through.

Consequently, to me, the final scene is a huge relief--like coming through the bottle-neck. Jim is finally able to relinquish the burden of his own survival; he'll never be the innocent, normal schoolboy again (the briefly flashed-on self-image that he tries to save at the end), but he'll be able to surrender his responsibilities for a time and simply belong. He is moving up the hierarchy.

It is in many ways a heart-rending film and brought me to tears several times--not the sort of film I watch over and over and over again to relax! However, I have to argue with Mike (slightly) regarding the lack of positive scenes: I think there are many but, again, I think Spielberg steps back from any kind of judgment about what is occurring. He simply lets us see how the British established their camp--the willingness of Dr. Rawlins to defend his hospital and follow the sick on their journey; the weary amusement of Jim's foster mother towards his hyperactiveness; the odd kindness of the Japanese soldiers towards the retarded young man who would never become a pilot in other circumstances (although that kindness is tempered by the question of motive); Jim's kindness towards the same young man; the fellowship of the non-Kamikaze Japanese pilots with Jim (Saint-Exupery suggests in his books that flying is a higher calling than anything else, putting astronauts and pilots in a different realm from ordinary mortals). And before the camp scenes, I was impressed by Jim's father's lack of prejudice; at first, he seems like an self-satisfied Britisher who is thoughtless and tunnel-visioned, but in just a few minutes, he is shown as more insightful, tolerant, and compassionate than he initially appears.

This is the quintessential show-don't-tell movie.

As for Christian Bale: it is fairly appropriate that this is the first film of his portfolio we are reviewing. Bale is a relatively unusual actor since he started so young yet has continued to be successful. Often, child stars have trouble leaping the gap between the "cute" years and films that require more than kootchie-kootchie-koo reactions. Look at Shirley Temple. And what will Daniel Radcliffe be doing in twenty years?

Bale does a rather remarkable job although I think he is strongest at the beginning and end of the film. The middle of the film seems to falter into "cuteness" territory; Bale owns the character less. However, in comparison to other child actors, Bale's portrayal of Jim Graham is a true tour de force.

And I always appreciate an appearance by Nigel Havers!