I made the mistake of subjecting my wife’s
poor ears to the IMAX version of the movie, Dunkirk
last week. The background music, more
than the German bombing, left us both rattled.
I think I’ll enjoy this movie of the British escape in 1940 more on DVD with
reduced volume and the subtitles.
Movie watchers my age grew up
accustomed to historical features assuring us of the story’s wider historical
background and significance for future generations. Times have changed.
In fact, Dunkirk’s strength is the way it
thrusts the viewer into the immediate time of three separate stories: a
week-long attempt of a British soldier to escape France, a day-long effort of a
fishing boat owner to rescue drowning troops, and a one-hour flight of an RAF
pilot trying to cover the withdrawal. All
of these characters choose to sacrifice themselves without any assurance that
their efforts will do any good.
Like
Gary Cooper in High Noon, characters
in Dunkirk have legitimate excuses to
do nothing; nevertheless, they make dangerously sacrificial decisions in real
time. Fishermen are not obligated to go
with their civilian crafts into a war zone.
Pilots are even ordered to turn back before their gas reserves expire. Nevertheless,
pilots choose to die or be captured rather than leave hundreds unprotected. A blind man, who would be exempted from
service by all, nevertheless insists on being at the docks to greet returning
soldiers with a blanket.
Such courage is not lost on us
here in Speedway. Saturday I watched a man
fall unconscious as his van narrowly missed one pedestrian, crashing at high
speed through a concrete block garage.
Within a minute there were a dozen people trying to care for him and
give comfort to his passenger granddaughter.
People congregate at accidents because
they sense a spiritual need to help in a way that transcends themselves. There
is a profound urge to matter to others. Often
the tragedy at such scenes is that folks, who want to help, seem insensible to
the spiritual and emotional emergencies going on all the time. It doesn’t require a war, flood or accident
to seize moments in which to give ourselves to our neighbor.
