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"Why the Sun Cried"Reviewed by Hartley Fortesque-MouseWrangler Hey, party people! I spent a happy few hours this past Saturday at Whiskey A Go Go on Sunset watching my favorite band, ‘Summer of Kings’, and avoiding various celebrities and groupies by affecting a sullen countenance. Since my recent departure from ‘engaged’ life I’ve found that I really enjoy my own company much more than I’d remembered. Being attached at the hip to another, albeit attractive and sparkling, person has its disadvantages in that it can not help but dilute ones own personality. I’m back on the ‘single and staying that way’ path after over 8 years in two relationships. And so it was that I thought I’d rise early, read the newspapers and plan my day. I had barely finished three of the fifty-eight sections of The Los Angeles Times when my attention was drawn to the full-page ad for ‘Tears of the Sun’. The usual glowing but easily misinterpreted statements such as “A BOLD NEW BREED OF ACTION FILM” and “THIS FILM GRABS YOU AND WON’T LET GO” rang loud from the page and reminded me that, since ‘Black Hawk Down’ I hadn’t seen a decent war movie. With this as an impetus I ate breakfast, showered, dressed and made my way to The Mann Village 8 in Westlake. I should have known that things bode ill when I asked the young lady at the kiosk for a single ticket and she made a sad little noise like I was deserving of her pity. Single is a tough choice but the right choice, babe, I don’t need the validation of others or the acceptance of my peers. I later found out that she had a collapsed lung and wheezed a lot. With forty minutes to waste I meandered to the local Barnes and Noble to see what new releases they had in preparation for the replacement of the books I’m currently reading. ‘Women’ by Charles Bukowski, ‘Windows Server 2003’ by Jerry Honeycutt, ‘Rat Pack Confidential’ by Shawn Levy and ‘The Way You Wear Your Hat’ by Bill Zehme. I feel it’s my duty to carry the slack caused by the other Baggers addiction to porn and coloring books. Portend number two came in the shape of a giggling teenage cheerleader (resplendent in her Westlake High outfit.) who chose a magazine whose subject was ‘Kitten Fancier’ or something equally foul and proceeded to sit down on the chair that I was currently occupying. She wasn’t sat down for long, sadly, but she squealed like teenagers are wont to do and fled the scene as three of the male onlookers gave me envious looks and one said “You lucky bastard!” Au contraire, my good man, I’m a Bagger and she just touched the ‘Brass Ring’. It’s always nice to go to the theatre solo, as then I don’t feel obliged to unleash my caustic wit on trailers, fellow patrons and other easy targets to entertain my companions. I can keep it all in my head and amuse myself. The lights dim, the main feature begins (eventually) and I prepare for an action movie tour-de-force. It didn’t take me long for my usual impatience with films to surface. Why does the lead female have to be hot? Why does it look like her breasts are fighting to escape. Ok, I’ll ignore that. Cut to a scene where Bill, the Colonel, is briefing the team and they are fresh from the chow hall. I noticed one of the team drinking what looked like a coffee. If I had swigged any beverage during a team brief I’d have had my ass kicked -- pay attention, your life and lives of those around you depend on it. Next gripe -- and there are many -- LT (Played by Bruce Willis) tells the doctor that they have to leave the village, while she wants to hang around and do more good. At this point I’d have knocked her out and carried her unconscious ass to the LZ (or RV as we called it). Next they begin their yomp through the jungle and I start to notice really stupid shit that I’ll just put down to bad directing or a military advisor who was a desk jockey during his service. Who the fuck wears cam cream that shines? The whole fucking point is to break up outlines, suppress flesh tones and dull shiny skin. Christ! Then there are a few weapons that have no scrim on them, the fuckers are like flashlights when the metal is exposed. This is basic field craft that even the greenest of grunts have a handle on. At this point I’m getting fed up and starting to suspend my suspension of disbelief. They get to the LZ and radio the choppers in, then it gets really funny. Picture yourself in a hot zone with ‘Charlies’ all around you, somewhere that you aren’t even supposed to be. What do you do to guide in the choppers? a. Use a locator beacon on a randomizing frequency. b. Radio your grid reference to the pilots, they are professionals. c. Set off smoke canisters thus signaling your location to friend and enemy alike. d. Have the UCLA marching band perform ‘Who Let the Dogs out’ whilst spelling out ‘We Are Here’ with their formation. Basically options c. and d. will get you a posthumous Purple Heart and a free flag for your family. I get really pissed off when see stuff like this in films because it’s not how it gets done. The American military is very professional; their Special Forces are second only to the British SAS, and it does a disservice to represent them so poorly. Then again, it comes back to the film director looking for the shot that the audience will appreciate the most, or maybe blame can be apportioned to the film’s military advisor who spent his career cleaning latrines. At this point I give up on this being a serious war film and surrender myself to sad fact that Mr. Willis’ huge ego needed another boost. Another howlingly funny scene involves the chopper evacuation; they are on their way out to the ship when they pass over the village that the Rebels overran. The chopper pilot says “Yeah, we spotted this on the way in.” Well why the hell would you fly over a known hot zone? You just wanted to make the evacuees cry, you sick Navy pilot, you! Not only is this tactically dumb it makes you ask why you couldn’t have just gone straight there and pick them up? Then there is a scene later on when they approach a clearing and the rebel troops have set up an ambush. The point man hears something coming towards him, the tension builds and finally a wild pig (I’m sure the pig was not just wild, he was furious when he read the script) emerges from the brush. Phew, we’re all going to be fine. The first question that the point man should have asked, “What scared piggy this way?” Instead he stands up and takes a sniper round to the chest. So, why would a sniper hit the chest when he had an easy shot on the head? Why didn’t the point man continue his sweep of the area until he established a safe zone. I really gave up at that point. I got mad again when they had the never-ending ammunition scene. I didn’t see the SEAL team carrying 500 rounds each. Equally I didn’t see the rebels with that much in the way of ordinance. Then it got VERY silly. An RPG7 isn’t an anti personnel weapon. It’s used against armor or by idiots (terrorists) against other hard targets like buildings or dug in positions. The rebels are stupid so it’s almost plausible, but the SEAL unit fire back with their M-72 LAW. The final insult in the ‘Stupid Weapon Selection’ sweepstakes is when the Colonel finally relents and sends in two fighter-bombers. The close up in the cockpit shows the pilot arming his SAM. This means Surface to Air Missile, for use against aircraft…The resultant explosion is exaggerated as most Hollywood ordinance bangs are but the resultant fireball was what appeared to be napalm. Did they run out of generally prescribed needle bombs? If I watched this film again I could probably adequately catalogue all of the nonsense, but due to my aged addled mind and lack of focus I’ve just listed the glaringly obvious. My advice is, if you need a good war film to prepare you for Desert Storm II then you’d get more from an old Audie Murphy flick. At least they have a quaint camp quality. Now what I would like to see some kind of legal ramification for posting such misleading prose on film advertising. If the film isn’t “THE BEST MILITARY THRILLER SINCE BLACKHAWK DOWN”, who do I sue? |
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