Press

Seattle Post-Intelligencer
08 September 2001
by John Levesque

HBO miniseries on elite paratroopers offers a vivid exploration of leadership

The HBO miniseries “Band of Brothers” is absolutely repellent.

Obscene.

Unsettling.

And, if you’ve got the stuff to stick with it, some of the most instructive TV you’ll see this year.

Though not perfect, it should be required viewing in schools across the land, and in the well-appointed rooms where well-appointed (and occasionally elected) world leaders decide to wage war, or whatever it is they say when war isn’t formally declared.

As an exploration of the human capacity for suffering and endurance, “Band of Brothers” puts “Survivor” and its copycats, which purport to show actual human suffering, in their rightful place: the file marked CRAP (for “Contrived Reality, Absurd Plots”).

But it may be even more important as a treatise on leadership — and the human compulsion to be led.

When Easy Company of the U.S. Army’s 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment was formed in 1942, its commanding officer was 1st Lt. Herbert Sobel. One of Sobel’s platoon leaders was 2nd Lt. Dick Winters. According to TV’s preferred historian of the moment, Stephen Ambrose, whose 1992 book inspired Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg to make “Band of Brothers” for HBO, Sobel was despised by the men of Easy Company. Winters was revered.

If it were as simple as that, “Band of Brothers” might end after the first hour, which is titled “Currahee,” after a hill in northeastern Georgia that was both genuine nemesis for the untested recruits of Easy Company and lyrical metaphor for all that was to turn them into combat veterans who saw more action than anyone could imagine.

But there are nine more installments — a second hour tomorrow night and eight more over the next eight Sundays — that serve to replicate, as faithfully as film can, the horror of war. To call “Band of Brothers” an anti-war statement, though, would do a disservice to Easy Company. Certainly nobody was more opposed to war than those who parachuted — too low and too fast — into enemy territory in Normandy, who huddled in foxholes while the trees exploded around them near Bastogne. Yet most of them managed their fear, their complete and utter dread, and soldiered on.

It is a tribute to their training, and to their leaders. Even the hated ones. As Ambrose suggests, Easy Company was the cream of the 2nd Battalion, 506th PIR, 101st Airborne Division, not in spite of Lieutenant Sobel, who was a petty, sadistic taskmaster, but because of him. Winters, who would become Sobel’s reluctant rival, told Ambrose: “It was a feeling everybody shared. Junior officers, noncoms, enlisted men, we all felt exactly the same way. It brought us together. We had to survive Sobel.”

Ironically, the togetherness of the Easy Company noncoms probably saved Sobel’s life. While training in England for D-Day, they offered to turn in their sergeants’ stripes rather than follow Sobel into battle. They could have been court-martialed for mutiny, but their action got Sobel reassigned to a non- combat training position; his replacement, 1st Lt. Thomas Meehan, was killed when the C-47 carrying Meehan and his paratroopers was shot down before they could jump.

Closeness of comrades

The stiff resolve of Easy Company’s NCOs speaks to the closeness inherent in the title Ambrose chose for his book, which Hanks and Spielberg happily appropriated. It’s from Shakespeare’s “Henry V,” when King Henry extols his troops after subduing the French army at Agincourt. He revels in the bond that “we few, we happy few, we band of brothers” will always share. “For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.”

Over nine months last year in England, Hanks supervised a similar bonding process in creating the miniseries. The actors went through a real army-style boot camp, supervised by former Marine Capt. Dale Dye, who did the same for Spielberg in the making of “Saving Private Ryan.” (Dye also plays Col. Robert Sink, commander of the 506th Regiment, in the miniseries.)

The look of “Band of Brothers” is similar to “Private Ryan”: the muted color palette, the shaky hand-held-camera work, the understated sound of weapons fire. But over the course of 10 hours it achieves an intimacy few theatrical movies can match. It also conveys a gruesome, violent and occasionally stomach- turning reality.

Hanks, who was inspired to make “Band of Brothers” after reading Ambrose’s book during the filming of “Private Ryan,” wants viewers to appreciate “the sacrifice that the men who fought in the Second World War gave.”

Anyone who fails to appreciate it isn’t paying attention. True, there’s cinematic heroism in “Band of Brothers.” But it’s not Audie Murphy. It’s not John Wayne. And while it’s hard to keep track of who’s who from week to week, viewers should have no trouble investing themselves in the unit.

One who is easy to know through all 10 episodes is Dick Winters, played nobly by Damian Lewis. Winters, a quiet man with no discernible vices, led by example and won the respect of nearly everyone who served with him. Indeed, perhaps the only exception was Sobel, who seemed to resent Winters’ ability and popularity.

If there’s a star of this miniseries show, it is Lewis, but his performance is anything but loud. From his first appearance, Lewis accomplishes much with a powerful presence and a dignified reserve. David Schwimmer, the biggest name in the cast, also scores as a completely loathable Sobel. Neal McDonough, Donnie Wahlberg, Frank John Hughes and Ron Livingston also imbue their characters — all real people — with truth and life.

But there is no stealing of the show here. It’s as if the boot-camp experience taught everyone the powerful lesson that making war movies is a lot like making war: Teamwork gets you farther than individual boldness. That, and the $120 million or so HBO reportedly paid for the production.

In his book, Ambrose writes: “Comrades are closer than friends, closer than brothers. Their relationship is different from that of lovers. Their trust in, and knowledge of, each other is total.”

Though the 10 episodes were directed by eight different people, this uncommon connection is the hallmark of the miniseries. It builds slowly, and the later episodes are stronger, but “Band of Brothers” resonates because it brings war to a distinctly human level that most people never see and, ideally, will never want to see again.