TOOTH
AND NAIL

by Chris Dashiell

Fighter follows two elderly Czech-born Jews as they revisit the past in a journey through Europe in 1998. It is unique among Holocaust films in that it takes the form of a dialogue between these two friends - an extended colloquy filled with love, humor, and unresolved conflict, portraying the souls of survivors with an intimacy that a straightforward documentary might never achieve.

The director, Amir Bar-Lev, set out to tell the amazing story of Jan Wiener, who made a daring and arduous escape from Nazi occupation, at one point lying on a refuse tray under a moving train for eighteen hours, then reaching Italy, where he was imprisoned and later escaped, and eventually joining the RAF as a fighter pilot. When Bar-Lev met Wiener's friend, the writer Arnost Lustig - a survivor of Terezinstadt and Auschwitz who wanted to write a book about Wiener - he had the great idea of filming the two of them on a return to Europe where they would retrace Wiener's journey while discussing the events of their youth.

The two friends are an appealing study in contrast. Wiener, 78, is strikingly handsome, witty and articulate, but somewhat rigid and short-tempered. Lustig, 74, has more of an artistic temperament, warmly humorous and introspective, given to volubility and speculation. Their experiences during the war and afterwards were also very different, and this alternation in point of view between two engaging personalities makes Fighter consistently absorbing.

In Prague, Wiener tells about his return in '45, where he planned to kill an official who had refused to help him leave before the war, calling him "little Jew." (Instead of killing him, he floored him with a punch.) The Communist government ended up accusing him of espionage for the British - he spent five years in a labor camp, after which he emigrated to the U.S. This memory provides the occasion for the friends' first spat. Lustig was a Party member after the war - and stayed in the Party far too long, according to Wiener. The writer insists he knew nothing about the unjust imprisonment and torture practiced by the Party. His friend is sceptical.

Moving moments include Wiener's visit to the house in Slovenia where his father and stepmother committed suicide rather than be captured in the coming German invasion. The conversation between the friends concerning this act, and whether or not it was an heroic or moral one, is deeply touching. Lustig recalls working on the labor gangs that built the railroad to Auschwitz. He lost his entire family in the Holocaust. A man who always tries to look for the positive in life, the one thought that is too painful to exorcize is of his gentle father, who used to laugh hysterically at Hitler's radio speeches, dying in a gas chamber.

Lustig's passion for speculation led to a falling out between the friends that halted filming for four days. Wiener was saved from deportation after he told his Italian interrogator that he might as well shoot him rather than send him back, since it would come to the same thing. The interrogator, mysteriously, had him sent to an Italian POW jail instead. Lustig is fascinated by the story, and wonders out loud if Wiener may have reminded the interrogator of his own son, or even if Wiener's good looks may have helped. Wiener, who has understandably become more and more upset as he visits sites of painful memory, takes offense to Lustig's fanciful turn of mind, and lashes out at him. Although they are eventually reconciled, at film's end Lustig has decided that he won't write a book about Wiener after all, and offers the insight - in what amounts to the film's coda - that a fighter like Wiener is absolutely necessary in wartime, but must have very difficult problems to face in times of peace.

Holocaust films often tend to overwhelm the viewer with the feeling of incalculable heaviness and grief. That is certainly appropriate, given the sheer enormity of the crimes committed and sufferings endured. Fighter is different because of its focus on the present, on the way these two interesting people live with and interpret their memories. There is surprising humor here, and hopefulness, despite great loss. Finally, the film shows us the quarrels between the two old men, as well as their moments of connection, and this rings very true, reflecting the intractability of grief, and the need for acceptance - of one another, and of our past.

Grief is the great theme for this dark year. In the Bedroom, Todd Field's excellent first feature, explores the tortuous experience of loss, focusing especially on its least agreeable symptom - anger and the desire for retribution.

Matt and Ruth Fowler (Tom Wilkinson and Sissy Spacek) live in a coastal town in Maine. Their 18-year-old son Frank (Nick Stahl) is seeing an older woman (Marisa Tomei) who is not yet divorced from her abusive husband (William Mapother). Matt is indulgent, but Ruth disapproves. Her worst fears are realized when Frank is murdered by his girlfriend's ex.

Field takes his time setting up the story, patiently establishing the characters and their relationships. This strategy gives the crime, when it happens, a devastating impact. The rest of the film carefully traces the couple's grief - the father shutting down, the mother withdrawing into silent anger. Brief scenes evoke the loss of meaning and purpose - mowing the lawn, watching TV, the pain of hearing other people laughing and going on with ther lives. When it starts to become evident that the killer is going to get off lightly, the rage becomes uncontainable.

Although the supporting work is of variable quality, the two leads are impressive. Spacek's controlling mother hardens into a ball of ice before our eyes, the actress performing much of her transformation through body language. The English actor Wilkinson is even better - passivity, stoicism and denial barely concealing the inchoate emotions struggling for release. He is the movie's center, the place where the film's warring questions have it out.

The screenplay, by Field and Robert Festinger, is adapted from an Andre Dubus short story. It has something of the quality of well-constructed literary fiction - with the occasional drawback of sounding too written, too much "on the page." But the basic insights are compelling. The reality of loss defies resolution or catharsis. The thirst for vengeance that underlies the characters' civilized veneer is nothing more than a desperate cry that cannot be answered. In the Bedroom is an important film right now because it neither consoles nor incites, choosing instead to put a mirror up to human nature. Those who can see, let them see.

©2002 Chris Dashiell
CineScene