If you see one movie this fall at $10.50, let it be Miracle at St. Anna.
Directed by the legendary Spike Lee and based on the book by novelist James McBride (The Color of Water, Song Yet Sung), Miracle at St. Anna uses the true story of an African-American soldier during World War II to create a masterpiece that is equal parts mystery, war story, ghost tale and history.
The film opens in a Harlem apartment in 1983, where Hector Negron (Laz Alonso) is watching an all-white 1950s film about World War II. Negron, who is Puerto Rican and served with the black soldiers known as Buffalo Soldiers, sighs, “We fought for this country too.” Then, suddenly, we are swept into Negron’s mysterious world, beginning when he murders an innocent customer at the post office where he works.
The beginning of the film flows smoothly and is rife with rich characters. Even the most minor roles are full and fleshed out, from an elderly professor to a young, dogged reporter. The cinematography is obvious, but admirable—there are plenty of long, slow pans down empty hallways and still shots of arranged objects, showing Lee’s attention to detail.
Most of the film takes place during World War II in Italy and the clash of cultures imbues what could have been a typical war movie with a rare, multi-dimensional perspective.
Infrequent moments of comic relief are quickly shelved by brutal battle scenes full of physical violence and minute-to-minute survival. The fighting scenes are bloody and unrestrained, reminiscent of Saving Private Ryan. There is a healthy dose of history for those unfamiliar with the plight of the Buffalo Soldiers, and; dialogue with white commanders features not-so-subtle flashbacks to slavery.
But while the violence melts away quickly, the relationships between the men, bonded by battle and race, remain intriguing throughout the film. In the face of extreme situations, the men are driven apart and drawn together by their own fundamental differences and their interdependence.
One of the most powerful scenes comes halfway through the film, in a flashback to a pre-war scene. In a Louisiana diner in 1943, racial tensions escalate between the white storeowner, the black Buffalo Soldiers who wish to be treated as equal customers, and the four white German captives who are already being served in a booth. When these worlds collide, we see clearly an America that is too easily forgotten today.
As the film progresses, the story becomes less about race and more about Europe’s political climate, as well as the tensions between the men. Sometimes it seems like five movies packed into one, resulting in an overwhelming desire to get to the end sooner. You’ll have plenty to think about only an hour in.
Although the ending seems a little rushed, especially after two and a half hours of buildup, it is essential to understanding the plot, if not the message. A key character is an Italian orphan (Matteo Sciabordi), picked up by Train (Omar Miller), a particularly superstitious soldier. The child brings another theme to the film—the question of children in wartime, and the potential loss of childhood. Meanwhile, the conflict between the Nazis and the resistance Partisans trickles down to the American troops, resulting in shady, untrustworthy characters that seem slightly superfluous. I can’t say that all of these stories join together to create one message, but they are all linked.
McBride knows a good story when he hears one, and he certainly knows how to tell it. Lee knows how to show it. Together, these two men have created a piece of art that goes beyond the theater, that follows you home and lingers in your head long after the credits roll. With Miracle at St. Anna, we get not only an exquisite story, but also a reading of the pulse of American history and society. Spend the $10.50. You won’t regret it.
