What So Proudly We Hail

There are some rather silly interludes, including a recurring metaphor about Martin's late wife and the North Star, and a gag about drinking ink that is drawn out way too long. Otherwise, screenwriter Robert Rodat has done an effective job of transposing his Saving Private Ryan screenplay to colonial times (accompanied once more by an overbearing John Williams soundtrack), complete with graphic shots of cannonballs taking people's limbs off. And while many might be put off by the mere mention of director Roland Emmerich (Godzilla, Independence Day), the fact is he knows how to make a good image. It's just that his usual screenwriter, Dean Devlin, can't write worth a damn. Subtract Devlin from the story equation -- he gets only a producer credit here -- and the problem is mostly solved, although Emmerich still can't seem to get a handle on women. As in every one of his American films save for Universal Soldier, the female lead is more a plot device than an actual character.

Still, this is a testosterone movie, and the women will probably be happy staring at Mel. In all his films, Emmerich seems to fetishize the boys in green (think of Kurt Russell in Stargate, Will Smith in ID4 and Doug Savant in Godzilla), so the story of the original U.S. military is a natural for him. Gibson turns in a great performance, closer to his brooding, wronged heroes of the '80s than the ego-tripping of Braveheart. His children look a little squeaky-clean for the period, especially their gleamingly perfect teeth, but what did I say earlier? Forget about historical accuracy. See this movie, then go home, raise the flag, set off some fireworks, and char some meat. God bless America.