Basically it's the story of a journalist's gradually being coopted by one side in a conflict. He's not supposed to let that happen, you know? Reporters belong to a class of professionals that subscribe to a code of ethics in which making value judgments has no place. In that respect they're like shrinks, judges, and cultural anthropologists.
But at the same time it's impossible to be impartial, unless you're completely ignorant of your subject. The tendency to judge things as "good" or "bad" is probably hard wired in human nature, and for good reasons. When our hominid ancestors first encountered a strange object or situation, they must have made instant decisions about whether this was going to turn out to be good or bad for them -- otherwise they'd get eaten and not have any more kids.
Nick Nolte does what most professionals do. He tries to think objectively about the conflict between the Sandinistas and Samoza's forces in Nicaragua, and he fails. Then he tries to merely ACT objectively, and he fails at that too. And yet the movie, and the revolution it depicts, turns on the one true photo Nolte is able to take, of the shooting death of his friend Hackman by the National Guard, which Samoza has been blaming on the Sandinistas. The rebels win.
The movie's pedantic, of course, but not as insulting as it might be. Not as insulting as, say, Costa-Gavras' "Missing," which assumes that Americans are stereotypical right-wing dummies who need to be patiently instructed in how corrupt our policies are, like a class of kindergarten kids. Okay, we're dumb -- but not THAT dumb. "Under Fire" doesn't show us any good guys on Samoza's side, but it also mutes the sentimentality with which the rebels are treated. We see some of them as scared and excited kids wielding guns and killing people for no discernible reason. Another woman tells the dead Hackman's ex girl friend, "Fifty thousand Nicaraguans have died. Now they kill one American and the world is outraged. Maybe we should have killed an American fifty years ago." (I give the writers the benefit of the doubt and assume they never meant to advance that as an reasonable position.)
Yet the rebels ARE treated rather gently. One young man, finding that Nolte and Cassidy are Americans, eagerly signs a baseball and tells them that when they get back to the USA they should give the ball to Dennis Martinez, whom I take to be a pro ball player. This kid, Pedro I think he's called, shows us the jolly side of revolution. He's the equivalent of those kids in the old war movies who learn to speak a choppy English with a lot of slang in it.
And who do we have on the other side? Samoza himself, another "brutal dictator" of the sort we've lately taken to deposing. We can tell he's nasty because he barks at his subordinates, exudes an oily charm with foreigners, and has an eye for the ladies. Trintignant has an eye for the ladies too. He has been an extraordinary actor in some roles (eg., "The Conformist"), his presence suggesting a kind of earnest weakness, but here his moral nihilist is hampered by his English. It's understandable that he should feel that whichever side wins, you still end up with a tyrant, but it's hard to believe he feels it. And then we have Richard Masur as an American-appointed Talking Chief for Samoza. He gives Nicaragua two options: Either Samoza wins with American help, solves the problem of poverty, and turns Nicaragua into a democracy, or the Communists take over the world. When the news comes out that Hackman has been killed, Masur runs into Cassidy, smiles, spreads his arms helplessly, and tells her, "A human tragedy. What can I say?" Then there is Ed Harris as the American mercenary, cheerfully slaughtering the rebels he's being paid to kill, thick skinned, just as pleased when the Sandinistas win as he was before.
The film makers don't exactly give us a level playing field, but then how could they without seeming ridiculous? Samoza, after all, was a pretty nasty guy. (Somebody finally caught up with him after he found refuge in Florida, as I recall.)
The acting is good, all around, as is the photography and location shooting.
What a dismal and dangerous place. And journalists have to prowl these streets for a living. Even a cover on Time Magazine wouldn't get me to drive around the rubble filled streets of Managua. Or even Newark, New Jersey, for that matter. Excellent use is made of Jerry Goldsmith's score. It's introduced after some time, done softly, a tune suggestive of Inca music, using wooden flutes and guitar. The theme becomes more fully orchestrated later, more dramatic and insistent. It's always associated with the rebels and at the end, when the rebels roll through the streets, it does everything but turn into the 1812 Overture.
This is for adults. Most of the characters are more real than stereotypical. Look at Joanna Cassidy. She's not a glossy Penthouse centerfold. She's a grown-up with an adult daughter and thoughtful blue eyes. And although we naturally want the Sandinistas to win, we have to wonder if Nolte did the right thing in falsely boosting the morale of the guerillas. By cheating and by taking sides, he's weakened the privileged status of journalists everywhere.
It's a thought-provoking movie, and full of action. Well done.
But at the same time it's impossible to be impartial, unless you're completely ignorant of your subject. The tendency to judge things as "good" or "bad" is probably hard wired in human nature, and for good reasons. When our hominid ancestors first encountered a strange object or situation, they must have made instant decisions about whether this was going to turn out to be good or bad for them -- otherwise they'd get eaten and not have any more kids.
Nick Nolte does what most professionals do. He tries to think objectively about the conflict between the Sandinistas and Samoza's forces in Nicaragua, and he fails. Then he tries to merely ACT objectively, and he fails at that too. And yet the movie, and the revolution it depicts, turns on the one true photo Nolte is able to take, of the shooting death of his friend Hackman by the National Guard, which Samoza has been blaming on the Sandinistas. The rebels win.
The movie's pedantic, of course, but not as insulting as it might be. Not as insulting as, say, Costa-Gavras' "Missing," which assumes that Americans are stereotypical right-wing dummies who need to be patiently instructed in how corrupt our policies are, like a class of kindergarten kids. Okay, we're dumb -- but not THAT dumb. "Under Fire" doesn't show us any good guys on Samoza's side, but it also mutes the sentimentality with which the rebels are treated. We see some of them as scared and excited kids wielding guns and killing people for no discernible reason. Another woman tells the dead Hackman's ex girl friend, "Fifty thousand Nicaraguans have died. Now they kill one American and the world is outraged. Maybe we should have killed an American fifty years ago." (I give the writers the benefit of the doubt and assume they never meant to advance that as an reasonable position.)
Yet the rebels ARE treated rather gently. One young man, finding that Nolte and Cassidy are Americans, eagerly signs a baseball and tells them that when they get back to the USA they should give the ball to Dennis Martinez, whom I take to be a pro ball player. This kid, Pedro I think he's called, shows us the jolly side of revolution. He's the equivalent of those kids in the old war movies who learn to speak a choppy English with a lot of slang in it.
And who do we have on the other side? Samoza himself, another "brutal dictator" of the sort we've lately taken to deposing. We can tell he's nasty because he barks at his subordinates, exudes an oily charm with foreigners, and has an eye for the ladies. Trintignant has an eye for the ladies too. He has been an extraordinary actor in some roles (eg., "The Conformist"), his presence suggesting a kind of earnest weakness, but here his moral nihilist is hampered by his English. It's understandable that he should feel that whichever side wins, you still end up with a tyrant, but it's hard to believe he feels it. And then we have Richard Masur as an American-appointed Talking Chief for Samoza. He gives Nicaragua two options: Either Samoza wins with American help, solves the problem of poverty, and turns Nicaragua into a democracy, or the Communists take over the world. When the news comes out that Hackman has been killed, Masur runs into Cassidy, smiles, spreads his arms helplessly, and tells her, "A human tragedy. What can I say?" Then there is Ed Harris as the American mercenary, cheerfully slaughtering the rebels he's being paid to kill, thick skinned, just as pleased when the Sandinistas win as he was before.
The film makers don't exactly give us a level playing field, but then how could they without seeming ridiculous? Samoza, after all, was a pretty nasty guy. (Somebody finally caught up with him after he found refuge in Florida, as I recall.)
The acting is good, all around, as is the photography and location shooting.
What a dismal and dangerous place. And journalists have to prowl these streets for a living. Even a cover on Time Magazine wouldn't get me to drive around the rubble filled streets of Managua. Or even Newark, New Jersey, for that matter. Excellent use is made of Jerry Goldsmith's score. It's introduced after some time, done softly, a tune suggestive of Inca music, using wooden flutes and guitar. The theme becomes more fully orchestrated later, more dramatic and insistent. It's always associated with the rebels and at the end, when the rebels roll through the streets, it does everything but turn into the 1812 Overture.
This is for adults. Most of the characters are more real than stereotypical. Look at Joanna Cassidy. She's not a glossy Penthouse centerfold. She's a grown-up with an adult daughter and thoughtful blue eyes. And although we naturally want the Sandinistas to win, we have to wonder if Nolte did the right thing in falsely boosting the morale of the guerillas. By cheating and by taking sides, he's weakened the privileged status of journalists everywhere.
It's a thought-provoking movie, and full of action. Well done.