Enemy at the Gates

Americans, and American movies, tend to believe that American soldiers single-handedly won the Second World War, with occasional help from a doughty British officer. This is untrue. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, once and now known as Russia, shouldered most of the burden and suffered most of the casualties involved in defeating Hitler. The turning point in the war was probably not when our boys landed at Normandy in 1944, but when the Commie soon-to-be bastards turned Hitler back at Stalingrad in 1943 after a debilitating, horrific siege that cost the Axis 800,000 soldiers and the Soviets 1.1 million.

So a grueling, epic film dramatizing the struggle in Stalingrad, the sacrifices made and the heroism shown, would be a useful corrective. "Enemy at the Gates," a new film produced, co-written and directed by Jean-Jacques Annaud (yes, he's French), aims to do just that.

Annaud does well in both his producing and directing duties. He gets the little details right, like the use of Stalin-era design cues for titles and graphics and James Horner's score of ersatz Soviet classical music; he also gets the big things right, like the grueling battle scenes and the epic scars modern warfare leaves on the landscape. Unfortunately, he and co-writer Alain Godard pack their script so full of demoralizingly predictable plot elements and stock charcters that most viewers will leave "Enemy at the Gates" amazed not by Russian courage and fortitude but by how Annaud could so thoroughly ruin what looked like such a promising film.

Annaud takes as his subject a legendary sniper from the Urals named Vassily Zaitsev, played here by Jude Law. According to USSR propaganda material recovered after the war, this peasant shepherd came to Stalingrad and immediately discovered a talent for killing German officers. A Soviet propaganda officer named Danilov (Joseph Fiennes) discovered Vassily and cunningly made him into a hero, and Vassily's exploits inspired millions. In response, a renowned German sharpshooter named Konig (Ed Harris) was told to come to town, to kill Vassily and regain the advantage for the Third Reich.

When Annaud is working with just this information, and his own obvious desire to give Stalingrad the movie it deserves, "Enemy at the Gates" is quite a powerful film. The opening scenes are imposing and authoritative, a reminder of some of the unique powers of cinema. When conscripted Soviet troops cross the Volga, killed en route with a sick casualness by hails of German bullets, or charge forward with rifles blazing in an obviously futile attempt to take a position defended by a machine gun, we feel both the scared bravery of Russian soldiers and the existential grimness of war. Annaud does not minimize the brutality of Stalin's government towards its subjects; bullets are fired at the Soviet troops from both sides, and these scenes are the more intense for it.

The scenes in which Vassily proves his skill with the rifle feel as much like an oasis to us, the audience, as they must have to the people of the USSR when Danilov told them about Vassily. As Vassily's skills increase, the snipering scenes become longer and more intricate, and Annaud directs them with an awareness of geometry and a feeling of tension which make them nothing less than mesmerizing. Harris and Law acquit themselves splendidly; Harris' eyes and Law's jaw communicate well in Annaud's closeups, and one can sense the lines of fire in the air thanks to the extreme wide shots that separate the closeups. Fiennes does a good job conveying the desperate intensity of Danilov as well, making him a sympathetic figure despite his unsympathetic makeup.

But Annaud and Godard made the rest up, based on rumors and their own inventions. For example, Rachel Weisz's character Tania, a beautiful young soldier and scholar, was rumored to exist; Sacha, an adorable young double agent, and Mother Filipov, an old, wise woman who's not going to move just because the Nazis are shelling her house, were invented. These people are in the film because Annaud and Godard did not have imagination enough to come up with a war story which did not involve whole platoons of clichés.

After a certain point in the film, the plot moves in eminently predictable ways. Tania falls in love with the virile Vassily, and is loved by the bookish Danilov; Sacha exposes himself to more and more peril; Mother Filipov remains obstinate until the very end. The plot also begins to make less and less sense; there are certain scenes which appear to lack certain explanatory portions (the film runs for two hours and change, and may have been edited down to that), and certain parts of the final scene are completely illogical. That's "okay," though, because anyone who has ever seen a war movie, or who is sensitive to the machinations of manipulative plot devices, will be able to predict the final scene down to the smallest detail.

Our final outcome, of course, is never in doubt, because "Enemy at the Gates" is based on history. The Nazis surrender, the Soviets advance, and a hard-won peace eventually rules the land. But "Enemy at the Gates" itself cannot escape all the shopworn narrative manipulations cinematic history has to offer; indeed, Annaud and Godard invite them to come in and despoil this film. Someone, someday, is going to make a great popular film about Stalingrad, but "Enemy at the Gates" isn't it.

INSIDE THE MIND (SUCH AS IT IS) OF A MOVIE REVIEWER, PART 2: IT'S JUST THE SAME OLD SONG

When the name "James Horner" came up as the composer of the score to "Enemy at the Gates," I immediately turned to the estimable Robert Kahn and said, "James Horner bit Shostakovich worse than a rabid dog." The reason for such a statement is that James Horner uses a little four-note cell as a motive for his entire score, and I believed that motive was originally written by Shostakovich. I still believe that. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The motive is four notes long; from my imperfect harmonic training, I believe it is composed of three upward-rushing half-steps which land on the middle note. Kind of like "da-da-da-dummmmmm," first three going up and close together, last same as the second but longer and with a drumroll under it.

Anyway, I was elaborating on the sacrelige I believed Horner to have committed when one of my movie-reviewing colleagues—instantly recognizable as such because he was a fat, nerdy, white male, and because he was talking to a man who I know is a movie critic—turned around and said it was Prokofiev. "Prokofiev!" I said. "Of course! You're right!" This response stemmed from my long-standing desire to avoid factual discussions with movie critics. Movie critics tend never to admit that (a) they are wrong or (b) they could possibly be wrong or (c) you could possibly have a shred of intelligence if you disagree with them. But then I realized: It probably is from "Alexander Nevsky," Serge Prokofiev's famous cantata/score for the Sergei Eisenstein film of (of course) the same name. So I resolved to go home and listen to Big Al to make sure.

I listened to Big Al when I got home. The notes were there, but not in that rhythm; the first one was long, the second two were short, and the fourth was long again. I remained convinced, from this brief encounter, that Shostakovich had furnished Horner with his material.

The next day, I went to the Performing Arts Library at my school to investigate further. Thankfully, two people who've seen me before many times and don't think I'm weird were manning the desk, so no one batted an eye when I asked if anyone could identify this motive, as I sung it. Eventually, they decided that it might be the "Leningrad" symphony (No. 7 in C), even though the actual film takes place in Stalingrad, as I helpfully pointed out. I took the Leningrad home just for fun. It is about 78 minutes long, and I can't find the motive anywhere in it.

This is why I called Horner's score "ersatz Soviet classical music," because it really does sound like it's taken from Shostakovich (or possibly Prokofiev), but I can't prove it. But I remain convinced. And someday I will prove it. But not by tomorrow morning, which is when the review is due. I have expended way too much effort on this already, and way too much effort on telling you all about it, considering that I have a midterm today. (In other words, "Wacky Quotes from Fatuous Press Kits" will have to wait until Thursday.) In the meantime, I hope you feel enlightened, and I call on the various people on this list with a core competency in classical music: If you have some help to give in solving this mystery, please give it. The advancement of knowledge reflects well on not one or two, but all of us.

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