The Valiant

I remember reading a recent study which suggested what types of movies are the most effective at making people cry. It noted a clear distinction between those films which caused women to tear up and those which prompted men to do the same. For women, the movies tended to be what you might expect: romantic tails of love gained, love lost, and lost regained. Think Nicholas Sparks adaptations.

For men, the culprits were, perhaps unsurprisingly, quite different in nature. The study found that men became most emotional over films involving the bonds shared by men in times of crisis. Movies about war were especially potent in this regard.

As a longtime fan of this type of movie, I must admit that I agree with this finding. One of my favorite genres of film is war, and one of my favorite war films is Saving Private Ryan. In the spirit of July 4, I decided to rewatch this classic and couldn't help but feel moved by the strength and resolve of the characters. With both of my grandfathers having contributed to the war effort in their respective ways, these movies have become that much more personal for me.

War is unique in that it requires one to put absolutely everything at stake for what is most important to one's country. As I watched Spielbergh's frighteningly realistic (by all accounts) depiction of D-Day, I understood at once the sacrifices that were made by those brave few for the rest of us. After the movie, though, I couldn't help but feel like we are letting those men down.

When I gaze out on the cultural landscape of this country and compare that to what was given up in return for it, it's hard not to feel disappointed in all of us. A casual sampling of the radio or television or magazine rack confirms this fear. Was it worth it for this? A world where we bury the lead on scientific advancement in favor of a celebrity police blotter? A billboard chart where the most mundane and simplistic tunes preside over progressive and intricate and ones? A box office where the same recycled tripe reigns over experimental film? A politcal arena where the adulatory candidates prevail over the resolute? For this we exchanged our best and brightest?

Critics will insist that we have fought (and are fighting) for the ability to make these choices and not the choices themselves. This is an equally discouraging proposal. It means that we have sacrificed the most valuable things for the right to the least valuable ones. As clips of yet more war-bound troops flash on the television and bystanders thank them and wish them luck, do those people think to themselves, "if it wasn't for these brave young men and women, I'd never have my People subscription"?

Of course, I'm making many assumptions about value here. That, after all, is what people do - especially opinionated bloggers. And it's true that we all have our guilty pleasures, myself included. But I hope to distinguish those exceptions from what appears to be an alarming cultural trend. For the first time in our history, our society seems to have made a conscious choice of the lowest common denominator. There has always been, in every society, an "idiot subculture," an undercurrent of imbecility darting through the various layers of our social fabric. Now, however, this undercurrent has somehow erupted to the surface and smothered virtually everything, from entertainment to politics to the little things we do every day. Out of all the people in all the history of the world, you and I have the most choices. The paradox of pairing this feat with the present results is nothing less than astounding.

For my own part, I have tried to make what I feel are the right choices - those that I feel I can both enjoy and justify. I try to do things to improve myself, to make myself smarter and stronger and overall a better person. I try to associate with people and things that have earned some sort of permanency and won't be soon forgotten. And, this column notwithstanding, I have attempted to do this while withholding judgment of those who have succumbed to the subculture. Sometimes I succeed in all of this. Sometimes I don't. But after watching a movie like Saving Private Ryan, I know that I have to try.

On this Fourth of July holiday, I hope that you consider, even for a moment, all that's been given, all that's been lost, and all that's left to do.