"The words famous and famished come from the same root, they both involve hunger" - Buck Henry

They are the most populous, yet anonymous, entities in the entertainment world. They hold jobs as waiters, waitresses, receptionists, delivery persons, and secretaries. The stars are in their eyes, and dreams are in their hearts propelling them forward through the brightest days and darkest nights. They are the aspiring actors and filmmakers all hungry to either show the world their vision, or become a part of someone else's. In Lisa Picard Is Famous, a playful, heartfelt, but slightly clichéd tale of the birth and ascension of potential stars, actor and now film maker, Griffin Dunne has crafted his tribute to these struggling souls, obviously told from the perspective of someone who has been there. This is someone who has made the trek, from the first time stepping off the bus, through the days spent passing out head shots and running to interviews, to the pinnacle of success, attempting to catch a ride on fame's fleeting heels, and ride it longer than 15 minutes. Though the film wavers and falters slightly towards the conclusion, this is still a testament to the other side of the glamour that is so prevalent.

Dunne captures the truest, most real human emotions and reactions through the tale of his heroine Lisa Picard (co-writer). We catch up with Lisa as she runs to commercial auditions, while waiting for the mini-series that she sees as her potential big break. Dunne is the aspiring filmmaker, wanting to capture the pre and post stardom versions of Lisa, and chronicle the effects that fame and the realization of dreams can have on a person. Lisa is an overly cute, bubbly and energetic soul, who has obviously read every chapter of How To Be a Star 101, right down to schmoozing with stars, passing out flyers and photos, and saying all the things that sound right, to all the people who matter. She has an upcoming part in a television mini-series starring Melissa Gilbert. She is energetic over the tiniest of bit parts, but is also dogged by a controversial and racy commercial for Chex cereal, which spawns the retort of "if audiences could see the directors cut" from Ms Picard. We are taken into every facet of Lisa's life, presumably to help us know the unknown Lisa, so that we can make a fair comparison of the known version. We meet her friend, Tate, also an aspiring star and writer, who has written a one-act play about being a gay actor who is "out" in Hollywood. It is the presence of this character, and the prevalence of his storyline, which becomes distracting and unnecessary. The focus switches more to his show, his drive, his dream, with Lisa becoming almost secondary to things. I can understand about wanting to show the bonds in Lisa's life, showing the supporting cast, and how they support, affect, and possibly change with fame. An ironic scene midway through the film tells a lesson that Dunne and company obviously failed to pay attention to. When Tate is showing tapes of his extra work on a soap opera, Lisa pointedly observes that he is supposed to be supporting and in the background, but he becomes distracting, stealing the focus away from the main purpose of the scene. Dunne and Kirk obviously realized this rule, but then turn around and commit the same error by bringing Tate into the forefront. I cared about Lisa, hell, its impossible not to like her, but when she wasn't on the screen, the movie wavers and falters, and sadly, by the time the ending comes around, Dunne has succumbed to the typical melodrama to wrap things up. While the movie still leaves a sweet, honest taste in my brain, I was still left wanting and wishing about what could have been. Not being privy to the denizens of this world, I cannot honestly say that this isn't how things are, but in a film like this, it is the storytellers job to bring me into the world, both the good and the bad, and let me know what it feels like to be Lisa, to be hungry, desperate, excited, disappointed, frustrated, sometimes all in the course of one day. While I cannot vouch for its validity, I am left a bit tainted that this is representative of most struggling stars life experience.

It is really difficult to accuse any of the performers of overacting, since these are aspiring stars, behaving, speaking, and responding, as they believe famous people do. As Lisa, Kirk is the focus of the film, as stated above, and when she is on the screen, you want to watch her and know more about her. The energetic nature, and the range of emotions given to her, keeps the film going and kept my interest even as the story started to slip away from Dunne. Since we rarely see Griffin, we have only his voice to go by, and at times he does overreact at times, but then again, this is the other side of the glamour, and the wanna-bes always want to sound and act like they are somebody. As Tate, DeWolf sometimes steals attention by overacting, but is still a believable presence in her life. The fault of his character goes more to Dunne's focus on him than anything else. One of the strokes of genius though, is the use of interviews, and insertion of real stars into the film. Dunne obviously cultivated this group from his own rise to stardom, or possibly just their draw to a project like this. From the initial quote from B-movie legend Henry, to Bullock's uncomfortably perfect cameo, to other appearances from Penelope Ann Miller, Carrie Fisher, Spike Lee, Fisher Stevens and yes, even Charlie Sheen, Dunne lays the groundwork for something wonderful, but still needs to work a bit on his storytelling abilities.

Ultimately, Lisa Picard may or not become famous because of this film, but Dunne still has some kinks to work out of his directing abilities. The desire to be known, loved, appreciated, cherished, wanted, desired and respected is something that most people secretly yearn for, and few actually achieve. The only thing that differs is the path that each of us takes, in order to reach these goals. For some, like Lisa, it is the long, hard road, to grab onto a dream, to do something you love, while actually sustaining a successful career. Dunne has presented a film, which from all I know accurately portrays this journey with few rewards and many pitfalls along the way. This film may not elicit the respect and admiration for those who have made it, but it will generate a slightly different perspective on what it actually does take to get to the top. Dunne's effort, like Lisa's personality, is very charming, heartfelt, and well intended, but sometimes distracting and unfocused in presentation.

Orange County

There is no denying the amount of talent running through the veins of those involved with Orange County, especially the bloodlines of the actors (Tom Hanks's son, Sissy Spacek's daughter (Fisk)) and the director (Jake Kasdan, son of director Lawrence, of Big Chill fame.) Add into the mix writer Mike White who gave us the chillingly dark arrested development drama Chuck and Buck last year, and there seemed to be little room for error, even forgiving the simplistic, typical teen movie premise that was being explored and exploited. However something did go amiss. Amidst brief flashes of a great idea and film, comes a deluge of stereotyped characters and situations, mixed in with the requisite gross-out scenes, and too much Jack Black in his underwear, and Orange County becomes just another teen movie that wastes a decent idea, in favor of maintaining the status quo.

Hanks plays Sean Brumder, a talented teen mixed in with a family seemingly straight out of a dysfunctional family handbook. His mother is a dependant lush, who doesn't want to let go, his brother is a slacker who is "perpetually recovering from the night before" and his father is more interested in material possessions and finances, then his own family. Growing up like this, who wouldn't want to escape? Sean's escape attempt is inspired after the loss of a surfing friend. He discovers a book on the beach, and after reading it, decides that his career goal is to be a writer, and his school of choice is the prestigious Stanford. However something goes awry in his application process, as his transcripts are confused with another's, and he doesn't get in. Believing he was wronged, and then finding out the truth, he sets out to do whatever he can to get into Stanford. The premise and set up is decent so far, but what follows is a series of events, that range from silly (Black breaking into the dean's office and messing around with another lonely, fire-obsessed student) to pointless (slipping drugs to the dean of admissions) to disgusting (an interview process which falls apart, expectedly after a sequence involving urine) None of these scenes even generate a modicum of laughter, more than maybe a smirk. The potential for what could have been flashes through when Brumder, of course, encounters the author of the book (a surprise amongst other cameos) on a visit to the school. It discusses how the characters in his life seem to come straight from a book, and how leaving one's home, doesn't always ensure success, due to the environment being inspiration for the pain and power of words. Unfortunately, these ideas are drowned and beaten down, until the whole experience becomes tiring and completely unfunny and unoriginal. I almost pitied the wonderful cast that was assembled here, for having to wade through this all.

As Brumder, Hanks shows similarities to his father's earlier work, with the frustrated anxiety of trying to find a place in the world, and still have fun with things. His chemistry with Fisk, is okay, but she is little more than window dressing, given very little to do. Black is yet again wasted and miscast, as the buffoon, who only briefly shows that he is smarter than all of us, or at least thinks he is, roles that Black shines in (see High Fidelity). Here, he is once again relegated not just to supporting character, in which he can steal movies, but he's dumbed down, as he was in Saving Silverman, and not allowed to be what he truly can be. Throw in a star studded list of cameos and stars (from Lithgow and O'Hara as the parents, to Chase as the principal, and the aforementioned author) and it is stunning that Kasdan and company could have given a better presentation of things than he did. After the quirky Holmesian mastery of Zero Effect, I expected great, or at least decent and respectable. Instead he too falls victim to the sophomore jinx that has bitten so many, and he barely seems to put forth an iota of creativity in doing so.

Ultimately, Orange County becomes another in the long line of cinematic carcasses that failed to capitalize on a genre and subculture begging to be visualized, satirized, or even explained in a justifiable and due manner. It is not difficult to see where Kasdan and White (who, as an illiterate, clueless English teacher, also has the only other scene that I laughed at) wanted to go with this movie. This could have been a lighthearted teen comedy exploring what makes us who we are, and if our dreams are what we want to have, or simply an escape from whom we really are. Maybe not that psychologically in-depth, but somewhere in that general area would have been nice without being subjected to banal predictability that we are presented with here. Behind all of this talent and possibility, lay something that could have been light fun, while exposing teen angst and anxiety, while still managing to elicit some humor out of it all (see American Pie 1 and 2 for example) But Kasdan and White instead choose the easier path of conformity, and forsake a great cast for something that we can see in any other teen related movie, with less expectation based on bloodlines and previous efforts. Granted, I wasn't expecting Citizen Kane, or even The Breakfast Club, but the glimpses of what could have been make the end result a great disappointment.

The Royal Tenenbaums

If Kevin Smith is Hollywood's resident smart aleck and Darren Aronofsky its dark visionary, then Wes Anderson (along with writing partner Owen) is its cerebral humorist. With The Royal Tenenbaums, Anderson has created a sometimes tedious, but slanted and brutally humorous look at dysfunctional families and the repercussions of the sins of the father. He has cemented himself as the leader in the genre of humor that either makes you cringe because you can relate, or think about, because you understand. This is the kind of movie that you don't know what to expect going in, and are not sure what to think when you come out, but once you think about it, you'll realize that you've seen a very smart, well written, tilted, but slightly overdone piece of societal observation.

The beginning of the story, and subsequent delivery is cleverly done through the usage of a book, going chapter by chapter. The beginning introduces us, in-depth and reminiscent of Amelie, to the cast of characters and their history. Royal Tenenbaum (Gene Hackman) is the obliviously uncaring father of three child prodigies, Richie (Luke Wilson), the tennis pro, Chas (Ben Stiller), the financial wizard who bred and created Dalmatian mice (in one of the films many quirky touches) and Margot (Gwyneth Paltrow), the adopted daughter and successful writer/playwright. Each achieved fame at a very young age, but as the story continues, each fell on their own type of hardships. Flashing forward 22 years, to Royal, who is either critically ill, or just critically in need of some soul cleansing, trying to reconcile with his wife Etheline, and the kids. The remainder of the story progresses, in rather trying manner at times, through the differing types of issues, ranging from dealing with the failures, to Etheline's courtship by her business partner, to the closeness of Margot and Richie's "relationship", to Margot's mysterious past disappearances, to the relationship with a neighbor child Eli (Owen Wilson), whose presence, along with Bill Murray and Danny Glover's, I struggled with, save just populating Anderson's odd little world with more weird and quirky people. The story is setup well enough, but in order to have any kind of power must be quicker hitting, because the lethargy and repetition tends to wear down the effect I believe. What makes the movie work is the way that Anderson and Wilson combine all of the little oddities, without making it seem unreal. This, combined with the continued creativity of delivery, the sharp, sometimes painful truth of the script, and the acerbically unknowing humor of Hackman's characterization, are what make the film bearable, and later on, ring as memorable. He is unexpectedly sharp and consistent, with his off the cuff, naturally sarcastic nature and delivery. He makes Royal seem insulting without knowing it, and comes very easily to Hackman, who has a comic touch that he can pull out and use with great ease, as he does here. As for the rest, Paltrow maintains the same deadpan look throughout, but with her sunken-eyed appearance and bland delivery, she suits the character perfectly, as we feel her pain. Unfortunately, for all of the good, including Huston's haggard turn as the mother, who seems to have lost her best years, we are subjected to pointless appearances from Glover and Murray, who sleepwalk through their roles, and whose characters seem to have no discernible purpose, save romantic ties, or just to show that not everything has to make sense, or have a purpose, I guess, that is very unclear and distracting. Most distracting of all is the presence of the Wilson brothers in front of the camera. They are obviously brilliant minds when it comes to creation and translation of natural humanity in an abnormal presentation, but in front of the camera, it's another story; something I like to call the Tarantino syndrome. It is where the creative genius and talent should remain behind the camera, rather than in front of it. Had that rule been applied here, and one of the characters been removed, and another recast, this may have been a more pleasant and rewarding, albeit still slightly over stated, experience.

Ultimately, The Royal Tenenbaums is a twisted, offbeat, slightly belabored look at the dark side of the imperfect family, done by one of the few directors who could pull this off without shocking us (ala Todd Solondz) or depressing us. (Ala Atom Egoyan) Anderson and company have always looked at the same world we have, except that their perspective is tilted about 45 degrees from the rest of ours. We see bits and pieces of our selves in their movies, especially this one, and therein lay the success, or failure of their films. The message here gets slightly diluted over the time it takes to tell it, by giving us repeated versions of the same issue, such as Margot and Eli's relationship, Chas's anger, or Richie obsessions. But beneath all of this diluted emotion and intensity, is a well written familial commentary that hits more often than it misses, and establishes the creators as the social observers and town criers of that which we sometimes feel no one can understand, or no one would want to. It is an offbeat social dissection that takes longer than need be to makes its point about the bonds of family love and friendship, which can be easily severed, but not as easily repaired, and the pressures that expectation can put on these bonds. All done through the slanted realism, viewed through the eyes of Wes Anderson and The Wilson's. Nobody's perfect, despite appearances, but there may be good inside all of us, fighting to get out, and the methods of extraction and delivery may be unconventional, but all come from the same place. At least this time around, unlike Rushmore, I could at least grasp the concept and idea, and laugh at a little bit of what I got, while in theater and, a lot more, upon reflection. The future is bright for Anderson and Wilson collaborations, as long as they tone things down, and don't let their witticisms and cuteness go to their heads

Series 7: The Contenders

The names, unfortunately, roll off our tongues with a simplistic, yet hesitant ease. Survivor, The Real World, Temptation Island, Big Brother, Love Cruise: in the past few years, society's twisted fascination with reality based television has given birth to these slices of Americana. So it was inevitable that Series 7: The Contenders would come along. With an idea that was born before the Survivor craze, but well into the Real World run, director Daniel Minahan has satirically, but brutally shown the extremes to which entertainment could go. While it fades a bit in its finale, drifting away from its edgy commentary, and into soap operatic predictable schmaltz, the overall effect is one that will cause any viewer or fan to think twice about the emanations from the cathode ray nipple that feeds society's voyeuristic yearnings.

There is a fitting bit of irony in Minahan doing this film, since he was one of the pretentious heathens who gave us Fox's When Good Things (insert animals, cops, ex-wives, whatever) Go Bad. It is very obvious from the presentation that he is very familiar with televisions innate draw and power of manipulation and cathartic hypnosis through shock therapy that it can cause. Now some may say that it is hypocritical for him to make this film, but I see it more as striking back. He is not only biting the hand that fed him and lifted him to where he is, he is attempting to exorcise the monster that he helped create. And he is definitely off to good start. The film jumps right in, feet first, as if the viewer was familiar with the series and the rules. The Contenders is the name of the show, with each episode becoming a series number. The rules are painfully simple, there are 6 contestants, chosen randomly using identification numbers and informed by a mysterious masked militia (who also serve as enforcers) who walk in, hand them a gun, walk out, and seal their fate, at least for three episodes. Each contestant must eliminate the others in order to move on, after 3 episodes, the prize is freedom, no money, no lavish gifts, just self-preservation and survival of the fittest, presented for entertainment purposes. We are brought into Episode 7 of the fittingly popular series. The reigning champion is embittered, seething mother-to-be Dawn LeGarto (Silence of The Lambs' Brooke Smith) who has earned a reputation for being a ruthless competitor, which she defends vehemently by stating that she's doing it for her baby. The episode takes place in LeGarto's hometown, a midsize Connecticut town, where 5 other residents become her competitors: Franklin, an elderly man who's the most hesitant of the group, Connie, an innocent looking nurse who has a darker side, Lindsey, a teen who feels the parental pressure, Tony, a father on the edge, and Jeffrey, a mid-30s cancer victim with a death wish.

At first glance, the contestants would seem to be a cross section of society, but closer looks reveal, as it may inside most of us, that when put into apparently average people are put into situations, they may discover sides of themselves heretofore not know about, or displayed. Minahan deftly intersperses the progression and explanation of the game, with some slice of life human moments, showing that these are normal people, put into a fight for their lives. He grazes over, thankfully, being too preachy about the hesitancy of the participants, or the legalities of things, letting the natural flow of the game lay things out, and the viewer can discern and pick things as things go along. The series are broken into 15-minute segments, with each promoted as TV does, complete with tacky taglines (These cats don't have nine lives), and dramatic voiceovers. The tension builds, as the game goes on, and the movie heads towards its conclusion. By the time it comes around, including a shocking, but not wholly surprising, sequence of events in a shopping mall, the after effects show just how calmly we have been woven into Minahan's web of a story without even realizing it.

I leave the rest, as any TV show would, for the teller to unveil. Needless to say, the story unfolds in a manner that hints at more beneath the surface, not just with the individual characters, but also with their interactions. This plays out in the movies third act, and brings to light an interesting question and commentary may be Minahan's underlying message. Does life imitate art, or vice versa. In Series 7's case, I think it is intentional, but not wholly forgivable. Society does influence actions, but when darkly satirizing something, conformity is not always the best path chosen. Minahan tap dances around some serious issues, in favor of focusing on the familiar, crowd pleasing, dramatic elements and touches that seem to litter televisions landscape these days. Was this just a grasp at being more universally accepted or just an insightful mockery of it? it is difficult to say really, but the movie does stumble towards its conclusion, losing its edginess in place of sentiment. Although, I had to admit a weak spot for the inclusion of Joy Division's oft-forgotten 80's classic "Love Will Tear Us Apart", as a part of the link between two of the characters. Others may question the legality or overall ramifications of such an endeavor, and it must be remembered that this is a movie and is make believe, but if you think about it, how far would fans go, for entertainment. Minahan shows this haphazard societal disregard in two very fitting, yet frightening scenes. One involving a confession session by the nurse, and another involving police stopping Lindsey at a metal detector, only to have her say "It's okay, I'm a Contender" and be let through no questions asked. There is no question that there are darker issues at work in Series 7, and for the most part, Minahan hits the right notes, but others are glazed over, as stated before.

He has a cast of relative unknowns here, save Smith, and that also works in the films favor. As the latter 2 Survivors have apparently shown, recognition, either of faces, or circumstances, is tainted when there is a familiarity. The relative anonymity allows the audience to really get into, and learn the characters as people, and as things progress along, and become a part of the game. Watching the film, I could morbidly see how society could get hooked on something like this, as proven in Spike Lee's Bamboozled; anything is probable and possible, if there is money, and popularity to be gained.

Ultimately, Series 7: The Contenders is a bitingly dark satirical slice of social commentary that hits more than it misses, and makes some points that we may not like, but cannot avoid the voracity of. What is entertainment to one may be drivel to the next, but one thing is unavoidable. There are inherent curiosities within the human soul which yearn to be fulfilled, and whether people admit it or not, there is a morbid curiosity within each of us. When this curiosity is fed by media mogul who know just what kind of sustenance to dole out, then phenomenon grows, and it becomes a self-sufficient Catch-22 where the creation to fill a need, is then sustained by a public's fervor and blood thirst for more. Series 7 makes some frighteningly brutal points about the lengths that people will go to be entertained, and while it's stumbles slightly at the end, it is definitely something that those who are glued to the lives of others, may need to turn to, to get their own dose of reality. Scoff at the violence if you will, call it pointless, brainless exploitation and entertainment, but be sure you can turn that same critically opinionated vision towards whatever it is that you find entertaining. Remember how much you were appalled at those people being gunned down or beaten, next time you slow down to ogle at a car accident, or watch 30 straight hours of CNN for 10 minutes of action. It is a brutal world out there, so be sure you are morally sound, before turning your hypocritical wit towards the movies intentions. Minahan shows us that what entertains us, disgusts us, and appalls us, may not be as far apart as we'd like to claim while we sit on high. Just recognize his message, forgive bits of his delivery, and realize that he is just the messenger, telling it as he, and too many others, see it. Like it or not, the truth can hurt.

Showtime

I can understand actors wanting to sit back and enjoy the fruits of their success, savoring the fun that movies and creating characters and stories can be, but I have to wonder what in the world has happened to Robert DeNiro. The great actor, he of Taxi Driver, Goodfellas, and so many other memorable roles, has now lowered himself to one of the cinematic signs of the apocalypse, starring in a buddy cop movie. The catch, I guess, is that this is supposed to be the anti buddy cop movie, mocking it at a few turns, but shamelessly following its rules as well. For a movie that tries so hard to be an unofficial spoof and satire of these movies and reality television, Showtime ironically falls victim to the devices of both mediums. It has some funny moments, some funny lines, and some interesting action sequences, but humor and stunts cannot mask a thin story, and typical plot lines. DeNiro gets reduced to the haggard straight man, to Eddie Murphy's over the top showmanship. Now Robert can do this, when given a good script (see Analyze This), but in Showtime, the laughs are few and far between, leaving the same old antics to once again come shining through. You could almost make a list of the situations, and check them off as they happen, and that my friends, is a sign of desperation on someone's part. Director Tom Dey, who turned Shanghai Noon into a guilty pleasure Western spoof, has lost his touch somewhere, and we are his unwitting victims as he spends 99 minutes taking us on his journey to find it.

In the guise of mocking the reality television that has inexplicably gripped America, Showtime treads unsteadily on ground that was solidified by films like The Truman Show, EdTV, 15 Minutes and even Series 7. A desperate TV network believes they have stumbled across a goldmine when a renegade detective shoots one of their video cameras. In order to avoid a costly lawsuit, the police chief agrees to allow the loose cannon cop Mitch Preston (DeNiro), to be followed around by video cameras, and partnered with a bumbling wannabe, Trey, who has definitely seen one too many episodes of TJ Hooker and Cops. Tying them together is the presence of the coolest thing in this movie, a very powerful gun, which shoots 12-gauge bullets with depleted Uranium inside (puts those infamous "cop killer" bullets to shame). The gun is owned by a bleached bad guy, Vargas (Damian), who taunts the police, and even pulls off using this thing in broad daylight, because of its power. This was a nice touch, to a story that deserved more thought. Whoever came up with that aspect, should have been given license to do the rest of the script. They miss several instances of humor, while occasionally lacing some zinging one-liners "Tell Don Johnson we've found his apartment" is one, during the movie's shining scene as the producer, Chase Renzi (Rene Russo), has redone the cops apartment to fit their "research". Somewhere in this script lay a decent story. People who have seen too many of these kind of movies, tailoring a television show about following cops to feed the public's desire to have their fantasy and reality worlds melded together. Unfortunately, that idea, is better than the execution of the majority of Showtime. The action sequences, save one, are straight out of any of the Lethal Weapon movies, and though they kept the story simple, they still followed the tried and true path which, as it usually does, leads us to mediocrity, safe complacency, and dooms the film to the role of not just has been, but what could have been.

Heading into the twilight of his career, DeNiro is tailor made to play the kind of role this should have been, one that balances his intense fiery persona and sarcastic nature behind that squinted sneer. However in Showtime, he is reduced to straight man to Murphy, with neither of them clicking or hitting with any kind of consistency. Murphy overacts in parts, as he should, but tries too hard in others and by the time his trademark laugh comes in, it's almost too late for any kind of redemption for the film.

Ultimately, Showtime is slightly failed attempt to capitalize on recent public obsessions, while poking fun at a Hollywood staple. With a bit of tweaking, and some risk taking, this could have been a decent comedy and commentary on the state of law enforcement, media, and the blurring of the lines between entertainment and reality. Instead, Dey loses the touch he had with Shanghai Noon, and takes the easy road out; by following the same rules that it declares its making fun of. There are flashes of what could have been, interesting occurrences, and humorous lines, but in the end, becomes yet another victim of failed execution and safe movie making.

We Were Soldiers

The Battle of Ia Drang is one of the most infamous, lesser-known, yet painful entries into a confusing, yet life-changing chapter in American History. It happened prior to the inception of the draft, and only gained notoriety after Lt Col Harold Moore's 1992 book We Were Soldiers Once..and Young(co-written with journalist Joseph Galloway and upon which the movie is based). Moore led the 1st Infantry Company, 7th Battalion (the same as Custer, his character notes) into battle with visions of Custer's last stand, and an earlier French massacre, and Galloway became the unwitting, but undaunted, documenter of facts. This movie is Randal Wallace's interpretation of the experiences of Moore, Galloway, and the other soldiers who were participants in one of the bloodiest battles in American history. And according to Moore, and to the eyes of this observer Wallace has delicately, but truthfully, recaptured not just the bullets, the bloodshed, and the military strategy, but has given a human side to warfare; an aspect of society that has unfortunately become a part of our existence. The film does not overlook the "war is hell" and "leave no man behind" clichés that riddle most films on this subject matter, but it combines the human elements, and the inhumane ones, into one of the most powerful, honest, and emotional depictions of Vietnam that you may ever see.

Mel Gibson portrays Moore, a stern, learned, deeply loyal Army Lieutenant Colonel who is put in command of a unit which is sent into Vietnam right after the escalation by President Johnson, but before the draft was reinstated. His group is comprised of several patriotic, yet naïve soldiers, who reflect and run the gamut of the men who served and gave their lives during the war. We are introduced to them, their wives, who have bonded together in common cause, and shown their lives. Wallace does this, but not for soap operatic dramatic purposes, but rather to show a human side to an inhumane slice of American history. Sam Elliott (as his grizzled Sergeant Major), Chris Klein (his baby faced innocence never fitting better) as a gung-ho Lieutenant, Greg Kinnear (stretching his range even more as the cocky, but emotional helicopter pilot) and Barry Pepper (as the journalist who collaborated with Moore on the book) are just some of the people that we get to know, like, dislike, associate, and become a part of throughout the film. The movie progresses through the 3-day conflict, showing both sides of the conflict, American and Vietnamese, because some tend to forget that there were other people, victims, and combatants. Wallace shows the two conflicted, yet determined, emotional, and human leaders in a way also displaying that war is not always just an American tragedy, but a human one.

Most previous efforts on the Vietnam War (Platoon, Born on The 4th of July) made some kind of obvious political statement, either positive of negative, regarding our presence there. We Were Soldiers makes a statement without really trying, using shots, scenes and some dialogue to convey not only an emotion, but a commentary. The scene of the soldiers gathering for departure, a panning shot of the faces of the soldiers during a nighttime vigil, and other scenes are a credit to the cinematographer and screenwriter, for establishing the characters and mood with words, the driving them home with visuals, without going over the top. The tone of the message, positive or negative, is left for the viewer to discern, and Wallace arms us with the information we need. He shows, without grandstanding, that war is hell, and that winning a battle, is not always good, if there is a loss of any kind, innocence, lives, etc. Moore, and the survivors were forever scarred by their events, despite his best intentions, and this reflects the whole attitude of the Vietnam conflict. Wallace avoids taking a stand, but the point and message driven home stronger than any cinematic effort before, and probably after this.

Ultimately, We Were Soldiers is what I can imagine as the truest recreation of the complete realm of the Vietnam War experience. There are few of us who would deny the horrors and atrocities that made up the individual events, if not the entire purpose of the war in Vietnam. Amongst those who haven't are the filmmakers in Hollywood who have honored, patronized, glorified, and sometimes gone a bit over the top in their attempted retelling of things. There is no way that a piece of celluloid, and some words on a page can ever capture or recreate those events, as any veteran would attest. But Randall Wallace has come closer than anyone, since Oliver Stone, to covering the gamut of emotions, reactions, and experiences that the brave men who served their went through. With We Were Soldiers, Wallace has created a visual history book, that is powerful, painfully real, and a true testament to the forgotten wars, and warriors, that we as a nation should celebrate, cherish and thank at every opportunity. The effort never seems over the top, or too patronizing, since it is told from several viewpoints and perspectives, and does not spare on both the good and bad points of war. This is one that must be viewed, and you may not understand the whys, but you will respect the effort of the filmmakers, and the forgotten soldiers who this story rightfully regales.