30 September 1997: What Price, The Right Thing?

Tuesday, 30 September 1997:

What Price, The Right Thing?

I had a shitty day at work today. I've been working on a large project for the last few weeks, and another member of my team has suggested making some modifications to what I've done so far to satisfy some not-yet-met requirements of the project. (This is not a case of "They're changing the requirements" or "They're yanking the rug out from under me"; it's simply that the project is evolving naturally as we work through all the details.)

I feel strongly that his suggestion is not the right thing to do. He has some reasons for why he wants to take that approach, but I don't think they're particularly substantial reasons. Likewise, I have some reasons for why I think the approach I'm taking is right, but I don't feel that they're especially more substantial; I just feel I'm right. We went at it pretty good for about ten minutes, and then decided we'll bring up the issue at tomorrow's development meeting.

So I feel like I can stick to my guns, or I can give in, or we can search for a compromise that might be more wrong than either of them.

This is why I'm not much of a leader. It's more frustrating than anything else.

I'm not much of a movie buff, and I generally dislike television, so I don't feel I'm a very good judge of acting. I enjoy and respect many well-regarded actors: Alec Guinness, Morgan Freeman, Tim Robbins. And there are actors I flatly dislike: Kevin Costner, Susan Sarandon.

So who would I pick as my favorite actor? Matthew Broderick, I guess.

I'm not sure why. Watch five minutes of him, and he often seems rather flat: His American accent is always clearly evident. He has this permanent "shell-shocked" expression on his face. He often seems to deliver his lines stiffly. But I've enjoyed him in everything I've seen him in, such as War Games; Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle, and Glory.

Maybe it's the writing or the directing that makes him work. Maybe he deserves credit for picking high-quality material to perform in. Maybe he's sucked in everything else he's done. I dunno. He doesn't draw me to see a movie, particularly (no actor does that), but I do enjoy seeing him.

So tonight I rented Glory, which for some reason was really hard to find at the local video stores. It's a dramatization of the 54th Regiment during the Civil War, whose colonel is played by Broderick, which was the first black regiment in US history. It focuses far more on the relationships between its characters than on the visceral elements of integrating the army in such a manner, which perhaps makes it shaky history (though I don't know for sure), but a good movie.

The really moving parts of the film are the battle scenes, which are gritty without being grotesque. When the 54th sees its first battle, it shows people getting hit - and killed - with a clear indication of where they got hit (the eye, the side, the leg, skull blown away, etc.), but then quickly cutting away to another scene, which is very effective. The adrenaline rush of the soldiers is shown quite clearly, as well as the looks on the faces of the soldiers afterwards when, having driven away the enemy, they wonder what exactly they have to celebrate after so much carnage.

This sets up the final battle most eloquently, when the 54th volunteers to lead a larger assault on a Confederate fort, which virtually guarantees heavy losses for the regiment. Great care is taken to show the regiment's feelings about the upcoming campaign: The men are scared, but choose to fight on nonetheless. There's a wonderful scene with Broderick on his horse by the ocean, his men lined up behind him, as he watches the waves rolling in, clearly wondering if he'll ever see such a sight again. Then he dismounts, sends his horse back, and walks to the head of his regiment.

While watching this scene, I realized that I don't really understand war; it's not just beyond my experience, it seems behind my comprehension. How could the colonel volunteer to lead a virtual suicide charge? How can the men walk into battle the next day against a mighty fort, knowing that if they're lucky maybe one out of every two of them will survive? Many of these men must be wondering what they've accomplished in life, what they're missing and what they're leaving behind by going on with their mission. How can anyone do that?

I'm a coward by comparison. I see little point in taking the path of most resistance, and I'm not self-sacrificing. Is it the time and circumstance in which soldiers live that make them this way? Is it just a matter of strength of character, an ability to do the right thing in the face of the ultimate sacrifice? (Which is to say, am I lacking in such character?)

Everyone has their role to play in the world, I guess, but some roles seem more intrinsically valuable than others.

Not-so-incidentally, Glory ends by telling us that the fort upon which the 54th charged was never taken in the war.

Michael Rawdon (Contact)