A História de um Soldado

Norman Jewinson's 1967 "In the Heat of the Night" delved into racial prejudices through the unlikely partnership between a White Southern cop (Rod Steiger) and a Black officer played by Sidney Poitier. His name was Virgil Tibbs and his non-welcomed involvement in a murder investigation revealed interesting facets of his personality not entirely devoid of prejudices. The Best Picture winner spoke many powerful statements about racism, while sticking to the basic formula of a mystery thriller, it wasn't just groundbreaking but entertaining.

I needed to start with a long preamble to assert that Jewison's "A Soldier's Story" certainly carries the same noble intentions but never really manages to elevate itself to the level of its glorious predecessor. The film grabs the viewer's attention thanks to the wonderful characterization of a complex character named Sergeant Waters, played by Adolph Caesar, some stand-out performances from Harold E. Rollins Jr. and a young and promising Denzel Washington, not to mention a well-written screenplay from Pullitzer-winning playwright Charles Fuller (he adapted his own play to the big screen) but there's a problem with the film: it forgot to be one.

We gather that the whole 'whodunit' structure is only an excuse for a character study, but the latter succeeds at the expenses of the former. That's the trick with play adaptations, dialogue is the raw material so they end up loaded with insights that confine to stage lecturing without that emotional kick only the big screen can provide. "A Soldier's Story" reveals some disturbing truths about Black soldiers' mindset in the segregated South and the way self-hatred inhabits the hearts of those torn between duty and their feeling of a tacit oppression but there's never anything crucial at stakes. Even Reginald Rose's play "12 Angry Men" had the life of the accused boy pending on the jury.

But in "A Solider's Story", Waters is dead already. Sure we want to know the truth about his killer, but in fact the real mystery is the victim himself. And Waters is quite a character, I never knew whether to be in awe of or despise him. When we first meet him, he's drowning his sorrow in a Louisiana jazz club, his state of total inebriation betrays a visceral admission of failure, such an overwhelming one that his death was the closest thing to a deliverance; hence his last burst of nerve when he's being beaten later. He's got the time to shout "they still hate you" and laugh manically before a .45 automatic bullet finally silences him. Naturally, we don't know who shot him but the Klan suspicion is way too obvious to fool us. From the start I suspected the killer would be one of his own soldiers and the film one of these stories where everyone has a motive.

Captain Davenport, lawyer by training, is assigned to lead the investigation and he's got three days to conduct the mission; he's played by the late Rollins. He's commanding and charismatic with his shady sunglasses that convey the same mix of threat and dignity as Colonel Mathieu in "Battle of Algiers". His presence inspires the respect and admiration of other Black soldiers and the bafflement of White officers, when it's not sheer disdain, as demonstrated by Colonel Taylor (Dennis Lipscomb). Rollins is the implacable force that confidently drives the plot, the Virgil Tibbs I would say. And his method is straight-to-the-point, investigating the case by interrogating different soldiers who were under Waters' iron-handed commandment.

First there's Private Wilkie, a disgraced former sergeant played by Art Evans. Then C.G. Memphis (Larry Riley) as the Southern gentle fellow who only inspired Waters' disgust, reminding him of the 'yes boss' sellouts of his youth. And there's First Class Petterson, Washington as the rebel who had the guts to stand against Waters and fought him with bare fists. As the flashbacks reveal the tormented relationships Waters had with his troop, we see the ramifications sneaking toward an unfamiliar territory. The "black vs. white" canvas vanishes, unveiling the very demons that inhabited Black people in a context where race still mattered. And for that I command the script and the play by Fuller, and the performances too.

But I also sympathize with Ebert's statement about the rather loose mystery structure, the film waits for the right moments to reveal the clues while in "In Heat of the Night", the narrative was linear and we were never one step behind the protagonists. To put it simply: there's a suicide that is never mentioned until there's twenty minutes left before the ending and a precious information about the weapons could have accelerated the whole investigation. Of course, we had to get through all these testimonies for the sake of the "message" but just because a film has powerful things to share with the viewers doesn't mean they should have a convenient timing as if they were following plot requirements more than sheer logic.

I wish I wouldn't have to point out these technicalities because the film deserved better. And so did Caesar who was simply outstanding with his intimidating tone that only a few facial tics could contradict, showing how full of petty resentment he was. Sure he could pretend to be big despite being towered by each soldier (wasn't he after all the one who made Danny Glover look like a pathetic Daddy's boy in "The Color Purple"?) but Waters is the kind of characters that are so well-written and complex that they end up revealing the complexities of the others. He's the spine of the film, inspiring that quote at the very end (I'm paraphrasing) "who gives you the right to tell you who's the right or wrong Black person" from a tearful Davenport.

But that's the kind of grand ending that needed a film of higher caliber. Interestingly, I thought the same of its Best Picture co-nominee "Places in the Heart", too wrapped up in its noble intentions that it couldn't transcend them.

There's much to recommend about this film. First it is refreshing to see a story about racism not done in the typical fashion where 'good' and 'bad' are so clearly delineated (ie. this a story about racism within the black community). Socially conscious director Jewison (In the Heat of the Night) also does a wonderful job (with the help of the scriptwriter of course) in authentically capturing the social climate of that bygone era. The acting is superb throughout. The only faces I recognized were Denzel's and David Allan Grier's but the unknowns (at least to me) were more than competent in their roles, especially Caesar's portrayal of the trouble Sgt. Waters. This film is not only fine cinema but it is also important history. Recommended, 8/10.

I can't even say this movie is underappreciated and overlooked b/c it did get a nomination for Best Picture...but I'll say it is anyway! :) This movie is not just a great "black" film, it's a great film, period. Howard Rollins shows the great actor he once was (and makes you saddened by how his later career after "Heat of the Night" turned out) and you cannot beat the who's who of the rest of the cast: Robert Townsend, Denzel, Adolph Caesar... I'm glad I found out it's on DVD with commentary by Mr. Jewison cause it deserves the format (although more goodies would've been great). If you haven't seen it, you must. For excellent acting and story it rarely gets better than this one...

The problem with a film like "A Soldier's Story" is that too many will skip it because it is one of those black social films. They expect a boring bitchy sermon. That's too bad, because they miss out on one of the best ensemble films of the 1980s, not to mention a tough mystery story that navigates deep psychological waters in delivering a message far less rosy and doctrinaire than you might expect.

It is World War II, and just outside a Louisiana army base for "colored" troops, a black master sergeant is shot to death on a deserted road. Whites from the nearby town are suspected. Howard Rollins Jr. plays Capt. Davenport, a black lawyer sent by Washington to investigate. The expectation is he will ruffle no feathers and work instead at being what the base commander calls "a credit to your race." But Davenport quickly makes clear he isn't anyone's token, even if it means pressing white suspects or investigating the possibility that whites didn't kill Sgt. Waters at all.

Today, you see the film and notice Denzel Washington has a major role as one of Sgt. Waters' men. But the star of the film is neither him nor Rollins, but Adolph Caesar as the doomed Sgt. Waters. "They still hate you!" he almost laughs as he is being murdered, and one of the many mysteries sorted out in the film is that Waters wasn't talking to the killer but himself.

Waters is bent out of shape not only over white American attitudes towards blacks, but his own attitude about how a black person can be more acceptable in white society. He expresses admiration for Nazi Germany, noting that they have a commendably direct way at getting at the problem of racial purity. For him, the black race is held down by a certain type of southern black, "geechies" he calls them, who play to white stereotyping by not speaking correct English and so on.

Caesar tackles Sgt. Waters as if his were a Shakespearean role, and in a way it is, Shylock crossed with Richard III, filtered through a multitude of American racial prisms, white on black, black on white, black on black. His every twitch and body shudder come over perfectly, especially when you watch a second time. Even in smaller moments, like when he's getting ready to beat the tar out of Denzel, and is joshing with the other non-coms, he never lets go of that glint in his eye or his hold on the viewer's jugular.

Though Rollins and Washington are both very good in support, even better is Art Evans as Waters' sad flunky, Wilkie, who gives two contradictory depositions to Davenport and the deepest insight as to what made Waters tick. Dennis Lipscomb as Capt. Taylor is also fantastic, a white officer who tells Davenport frankly he doesn't want him investigating the murder because of the color of his skin. Taylor's not a bigot, mind, he just wants justice and fears a black officer won't be able to make an arrest in Louisiana. Taylor's more socially awkward than anything else, and scripter Charles Fuller, working from his great "A Soldier's Play," has a lot of fun with him and his exchanges with Davenport.

When Davenport tells him of an especially cruel trick Waters played, Taylor refuses to believe it. "Colored people aren't that devious," he says, a nice line in that you discover Taylor's racism and his naive decency simultaneously.

In his DVD commentary, director Norman Jewison doesn't mention his earlier "In The Still Of The Night," which is odd given the many parallels between the two films. Both are murder mysteries set in the American South with blacks and whites butting heads. Rollins even went on to appear in "Still Of The Night" the TV series. I don't see this film as a copy of that earlier one, but a variation on the same theme, and in many ways an improvement.

Instead of noble Sidney Poitier, you have a deep raft of black acting talent representing a variety of different attitudes and moral shadings. Real stock is taken, too, of America's racial divide, how people can still feel American enough to want to die for their country even if it won't let them drink from the same water fountain. There's something heartbreaking about the scene where we see the black soldiers celebrating being sent off to combat, in the wake of what happened to WWI hero Sgt. Waters. Will they come back with memories of their own Cafe Napoleon?

"A Soldier's Story," directed by Norman Jewison, tells a very powerful and tragic tale of black racism in WWII America. It is equally puzzling and disturbing and will leave you thinking about it for a long time to come.

The story takes place at a military base in the American South during the last full year of the Second World War, in 1944. Sergeant Vernon Waters, a Black man, is shot to death. The locals, as well as the Black enlisted men at the base, believe it to be the work of the Ku Klux Klan. Captain Davenport, also a Black man, as well as the first Black officer most of the men at this base have ever seen, is asked to investigate this. The White officers all want to see this matter brought to a swift and tidy conclusion in order to prevent what they see as a potential race riot between the Black soldiers and local Whites around town.

Davenport (deftly played by the late Howard E. Rollins Jr.) questions the enlisted men at the base, and begins to learn that the murdered sergeant(Adolph Ceaser in an Oscar-nominated performance) had no shortage of enemies, White and Black.

Through a series of flashbacks, we learn that Waters is a man of great personal pride and dignity, a man who believes that the African-American race has great potential to "take it's rightful place in history" alongside the White race in America. But his pride is also fueled by a terrible hatred of Black men, mostly Southern men, who he believes are hurting the race by presenting themselves as lower-class bumpkins; the stereotypical shiftless, lazy, ignorant types; the smiling, singing clowns; the "yassah-boss niggers."

One soldier, C.J. Memphis, a simple but charming, illiterate, guitar-strumming man, comes to personify these character traits in Waters' eyes. The clash between those two personalities is a crucial centerpiece to this movie's message.

Ceaser is astonishing as Waters, a man so full of loathing and bile towards his own people, you can feel it oozing off the screen. His best moment occurs in a bar where he stares into a mirror and talks in a dark tone about his unit's heroic efforts in France in the First World War, and how one Black soldier destroyed that sterling image in the minds of many White Frenchmen.....and what Waters did in response. It's chilling.

An undervalued film that you may have to look a little harder in your local video store to find, but well worth the effort!