We always try to see all the movies nominated for the best picture Oscar, but this past year was an exception. Heidi refused to see War Horse, no matter how much I cajoled.
"It's by Steven Spielberg..." I started.
"So is Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom," she countered, and she had me there. I hate that movie.
"I'm sure the horse doesn't die," I told her. "That would never happen."
"I'm sure some horses do die," she answered, and I knew she was right. There was no way a movie with the word "war" in its title would let the other word in its title off the hook. Plus, I had seen Saving Private Ryan, and I knew no one was safe.
So we didn't go, and in the end, as far as awards and such, it wasn't that big a deal, but for a couple of reasons, I still wanted to see it. Number one was that it's based on a book meant for children the age of my students, and a colleague had recommended it to me.
This week we're on spring break, and of the pair of us, I am the earlier riser. In fact, I usually get up a couple of hours before Heidi. Around midweek, I decided to use some of my morning time to download and watch War Horse. Why not? I thought.
Why not, indeed! Just as Heidi predicted, the movie depicts the horrors of poverty and war and the powerlessness of women, children, animals, and of course men, in the face of such brutality. To me it was a picture of great loss with little redemption, and even a full-on Gone with the Wind style sunset ending could not rescue it. There was survival, yes, but I can't imagine how anyone marketed it as a family film.
In some ways? I'd rather see a mad Indian witch doctor pull a beating heart from some poor slave.
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