High Definition: The Pacific
I’ll occasionally tear up in movies, but I cried like a baby in Saving Private Ryan. My wife’s Grandpa Wigton flew bombers in Europe during World II but was called home after his two brothers died in combat. I was completely alone in the theater, catching a mid-week matinee. I paced the floor in front of the screen in the tenser parts of the movie, but the scene that knocked me out was just after one of the most brutal accounts of war I’d ever witnessed: the opening battle on the beaches of Normandy. The film cut to a non-descript war office back in the States where a secretary realized that three of the letters she was processing were addressed to the same family. Three brothers had died, and one remained in Europe. I was wrecked.
I’ve never been to war, and at 38, I likely never will. But I’m drawn to accounts of war—the sacrifice, violence, purpose, the bonds formed among soldiers, the monotony, the fear, the tragedy. One of Paste’s regular contributors, David Langness, is a veteran of Vietnam and an expert in war fiction, having read more than 400 accounts of Vietnam alone. He says, “All great war books are also anti-war books.” The same can be said for movies and TV, and after three episodes, HBO’s The Pacific—based on memoirs by Eugene Sledge (Joseph Mazzello) and Robert Leckie (James Badge Dale)—seems to be great war television.
Moreso than the wars that came after, World War II has been fodder for stories of unvarnished heroism. The justness of its cause has rarely been questioned. Germany and Japan were intent on conquest, and the U.S. and its allies were fighting for freedom. Many of the films that came after glorified not only the bravery of WWII vets, but war itself. More recent films have made the effort to capture the utter hell our soldiers went through. A few, like Clint Eastwood’s Letters From Iwo Jima, even gave us the perspective of the Japanese soldiers that were always either killing or dying in other movies.