Spielberg Makes Good

Schindler's List

directed by Steven Spielberg

As every critic in America has noted, 1993 was a watershed year for Steven Spielberg. He was responsible for "Jurassic Park," the most successful film of all time, and "Schindler's List," his greatest film and one of the most significant productions in the history of the medium.

The differences between "Jurassic Park" and "Schindler's List" are striking. "Jurassic Park" is a film devoted to extinct creatures brought to life by special effects and computer animation. In the world of "Jurassic Park," humans are almost an afterthought, present only so that the dinosaurs can devour them. However, "Schindler's List," based on a true story, focuses on human beings, presenting a vision of a world where people are of paramount importance and where one person's actions carry great weight.

In the late 1930s, an Austrian businessman named Oskar Schindler (Liam Neeson) arrives in Krakow, Poland, intent on making his fortune. He aims, in his own words, to leave with "two steamer trunks full of money." Schindler is a dazzlingly charismatic man, the ultimate seducer, who, according to Spielberg, "romances the entire city of Krakow,...romances the Nazis,...romances the politicians, the police chiefs, the women."

Using his Nazi connections and financed by investments from Jews, Schindler establishes a factory that produces pots and pans. He exploits Jewish labor because under Nazi laws they earn less than Poles. His accountant is Itzhak Stern (Ben Kingsley) and with his help, Schindler's factory becomes a success.

Eventually, the Jews are moved from the Krakow Ghetto to a Nazi labor camp run by Amon Goeth (Ralph Fiennes). Goeth is a singularly unsettling figure, educated and refined but at the same time brutal, merciless and animalistic. Looking down into the camp from his villa, Goeth casually shoots anyone who crosses his line of sight. He is in love with his Jewish maid (Embeth Davidtz), but he is ashamed of it, and so he beats her.

Schindler is a friend to both Stern and Goeth, and the movie develops into a kind of triangle where Stern is the angel of good and Goeth the angel of evil battling for Schindler's soul. As the film progresses, Schindler finally opens his eyes to the atrocities committed by the Nazis. When the orders come that the labor camp must be dismantled and all Jews sent to Auschwitz, Schindler manages to buy the lives of 1,100 Jews.

One of Spielberg's masterstrokes is the manner in which he depicts Schindler's conversion from apolitical bon vivant to moral hero. The transformation does not occur with a sudden flash of light from the heavens; instead, it develops slowly and credibly as Schindler becomes increasingly aware of the Nazis's deeds.

This success is due in great part to Liam Neeson's outstanding performance. Neeson presents a remarkably full-bodied character; the charmer, the rogue, the womanizer, the profiteer and the hero in him all get their due. Neeson is ably supported by Ben Kingsley and Ralph Fiennes. Kingsley is a marvel as Itzhak Stern, summoning up fierce, quiet dignity and sly humor, while Fiennes is terrifying and complex as Amon Goeth.

The lion's share of the credit, however, goes to Steven Spielberg. For Spielberg, "Schindler's List," shot without stars, in black and white, and on a relatively small budget of $22 million, is a gamble. The gamble, however, paid off. In "Jurassic Park," Spielberg manifested his talent only in his trademark technical wizardry; it seemed as if he had abdicated in favor of computers and blue screens. In "Schindler's List," Spielberg is present by his absence; that is to say, he has practiced incredible restraint. In his reluctance to pull out all the stops, to make himself visible with amazing camera angles and special effects, he demonstrates how deeply he has thought about the film. He exercises great control over the movie, refusing to pander to his audience, to let them off the hook, or to push their buttons with facile tricks.

Spielberg's decision to shoot the film in black and white serves him well. Besides lending the movie the feel of a documentary, the black and white serves the film thematically in the play of light and shadows. Black and white also gives an unnerving sharpness and clarity to whatever is portrayed. It forces the viewer to focus on what is on the screen; there is no color to distract the viewer or to provide an escape from the intensity and impact of the material.

The film is lacerating. It provides an unflinching look at acts of incomprehensible barbarity. This renders it incredibly difficult to watch, and at times the viewer feels battered and bruised inside. The movie sears images into the viewer's head: a small boy up to his chest in excrement because he has hidden from the Nazis in the latrines; an old man being shot in the head; piles of photographs, suitcases and shoes. Here, precisely, lies the film's power--it will not allow anyone to look away, to ignore, to forget.

But if the film submerges the viewers in the horrors of the Holocaust, it does not allow them to drown there. If provides the possibility of redemption, of light in the midst of so much darkness. It affirms that although humans have the capacity for evil such as is depicted in the movie, they also have the capacity for good which will allow them to combat the evil. Painful, beautiful, uplifting and indelible, "Schindler's List" reveals itself as the most supremely humanist of films.