Haha, you won't find many "big" words in this post. I think the longest is "sensationalism", and the most obscure may be "
kitsch". Whatever, I wrote this in May last year...
Firstly, the Holocaust by its very nature resists and denies sensationalism. It's a unique event because of the historical factors that led up to it, and yet it's not aberrant because the Final Solution might be seen as the attempted conclusion to a long history of global anti-Semitism. Spielberg's film ignores these issues; in it, the reality of the Holocaust is not even a subtext, but a mere backdrop to its individual-character story. If you'll forgive the poetic wording, I'd call it a pornographic film before a period film. There are historically accurate details of course, but these are only to combat easier accusations of exploitation.
Schindler's List is guilty of
kitsch. Its sentimentality dwarfs everything else. The aesthetic decisions - the black-and-white cinematography and the four moments of colour - are badly judged: why film it in black-and-white? Is it a question of blurring morality, of making traditional notions of "good" and "evil" problematic? It might seem so, in the fact that Schindler's initial reaction to the genocide is frustration at his
factory being empty (and thus losing money) and not at the killing of fellow humans; but we're asked to side with Schindler, ultimately, not because of his "good" but because of the insistent juxaposition against "evil" - Goeth.
Is it, then, a question of distinguishing dramatic moments? It opens with colour flame of the Sabbath, which de-colourises as it burns out - an aesthetic representation of the distinction of the Jews? Maybe, but then why undercut it with text describing the financial measures Schindler took to save the Jews ("his Jews", the film reminds us)? Spielberg shifts the focus from the unspeakable death of millions to the few that survived. Not only this, but we're told (from the start and throughout) that they survived
because of Schindler. That's right: all survivors in this film are related in some way to Schindler, and the title alone elevates him beyond banal altruism. He's a hero, despite being roused to heroism in the first place due to monetary concerns. What's Spielberg trying to tell us here?
More famously, the girl in the red dress... it's a (dis?)quieting moment in a furiously violent scene that we see this girl, but Spielberg insults his audience by pointing out her visual presence through colour. Not only is this cheap, but when we see her corpse later in the film, the tone and perspective shift once more, after Spielberg has lingered long enough (though not long
enough) for us to remind ourselves that people actually died during this horrific event, back to the
Schindler Jews.
Also, if we come back to the initial scene of the candles, and how their colour burns out (and with it, the Jewish faith...?), why does Spielberg conclude his film with colour images of the present-day Jews? (We needn't ask why they stage a memorial service to Schindler; the film's named after him, so they must!) There's an implication of happiness there. And happy they may be, of course, but the tone is equally uplifting and relieving for the
audience. They've sat through some violent and upsetting scenes, and now here's their reward... the suggestion of hope. This is all fine and swell, of course, but a) it's played out for people's emotional benefit, at the expense of actual intellectual and historical benefit; b) it's a fatally limited and narrowing perspective of the Holocaust. Schindler "saved" 1,100 lives and we celebrate; we've little time to mourn the six million destroyed. That Spielberg ends the film with a dedication to the latter means very little; the preceding narrative has been so focused on (and named after) the individual arc of its Nazi-turned-selfless-Saviour, that we're not compelled to explore the historical reasons behind this
mass horror, nor the moral/ethical questions of representing it.
No: Spielberg takes for granted that a fantasy film parading as a historical film can be enjoyed and not questioned. Lamentably, he's right. He takes it upon himself to re-create the unspeakable horror of the Holocaust through a shamelessly fictionalised account that demands that we see events not through the eyes of the victims nor even the survivors, but the man who came to save them. This isn't necessarily objectionable, but for the fact of the fantastical heroism with which Schindler is presented. He's
mythical from the outset. The way Spielberg exposits him, visually, from behind (I think) and through cigarette smoke (and the way in which Neeson carries himself as an actor), gives an air of mysticism not dissimilar to Coppola's exposition of Don Corleone. We're drawn in
immediately to the character, to the individual, and how he might come eventually to save a very, very small portion of the Jews. At best, the focus is a curious one. Curious because of the inevitable neglect of the wider reality, and because with it, the audience may view these events with neither guilt nor genuine sorrow.
It was one of my favorite books growing up and I thought PJ did a great job with the movie.
Our senior song was "Climb Every Mountain" (which is not a bad song).
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