Bill thought he left Vietnam behind him, a distance measured in years and
miles and blood. But the past is like a shadow, always attached to the present
and sometimes eclipsing the moment. THE VISITORS was Elia Kazan’s last film and
one that seems to defy his traditional big budget Hollywood style by being
rather amateurishly made. But that is only a superficial criticism because the
context of this film’s cinematography is as much a part of the story as the
characters themselves. The story concerns people trapped in a morass of
ambiguous morality, of people scared of doing the “right thing”…whatever this
“right thing” is. I would suggest that this is a common theme throughout
Kazan’s oeuvre from ON THE WATERFRONT to A FACE IN THE CROWD as he struggled
with his own moral turpitude over naming names to the House Committee on
Un-American Activity (HUACC). Thus THE VISITORS is once again allegory with its
creator as victim.
Here in his final film Kazan films on location in a farmhouse using a hand
held camera, focusing intently upon character interaction in cramped medium
close-ups with minimal editing. This Cinema Verite style moves the camera’s
point-of-view directly into the situation (seemingly) without stagey blocking
or gimmicky set-ups. The actors don’t exaggerate or emote their inner-feelings
so often times there are long stretches of silence…just like in real life. The
disheveled environment appears not only authentic but documentary which lends a
gritty realism to the film. There is a scene of animal violence that is so
believable that one wonder’s how it was achieved. This is a brutal and
fatalistic story that doesn’t have the requisite starting point or ending,
other than the film itself begins and finally stops.
The story takes place in less than 24 hours. The visit isn’t the starting
point as we wake up with Bill and Martha and follow their routine throughout
the morning. When Mike and Tony show up Bill fails to communicate his anxiety
to his wife (or the audience). If one doesn’t know the premise of the film it
would seem like a friendly reunion. We learn through exposition that Bill
(James Woods) while serving in the Army in Vietnam witnessed a brutal rape on a
Vietnamese civilian by his sergeant Mike (James Railsback) and comrade Tony
(Chico Martinez). Mike testified at a court-martial and the two men ended up
serving time in a military prison. Their return seems of little concern to Mike
who becomes very difficult to read thanks to an inspiringly subtle performance
from Woods. He invites them into his home and while Mike takes a nap on his
sofa, he and Tony take a walk around the farmhouse. He asks Tony if everything
is square between them but again doesn’t seem scared or surprised by their
appearance: he’s obviously not expecting any problems. It’s as if that violent
act in a foreign country happened not only in another time…but by other people.
Mike has distanced himself psychologically from the rape and it soon becomes
evident that he never told his girlfriend Martha about the experience. The visitors
Mike and Tony also do not display any predilection to revenge or violence and
at one point clearly state that they don’t know why they returned. It seems as
if the “message” of the film is that there is no message or moral at all; that
life happens, people react and often don’t understand their own motivations or
desires.
As the characters putter around the house they meet Martha’s father Harry,
a WW2 vet who now writes pulp Western paperbacks, stories of violence and
machismo. As Harry gets drunk he revels in his own war stories and tales of
killing and asks Mike and Tony about their experiences. He is unable to
understand why they don’t want to talk about Vietnam and often calls Bill’s
manhood into question because he is gentle and withdrawn, traits that Harry
sees as a weakness in Bill (and all men) instead of strength. In one drunken
scene they watch a football game together and Harry exhorts about the virility
of the men who play this rugged game as he begins tossing a football around
with them. Bill doesn’t participate and we clearly see the battle of the Alpha
male with strength dominating the quartet. Martha is relegated to the periphery
and one who seems to instigate the final act: an act of brutality and
masochistic violence that is difficult to understand. Maybe we’re not meant to
understand it.
As the evening turns dark and supper is finished, Harry staggering
drunkenly to his guesthouse, Martha becomes closer and closer to Mike, berating
him for his past and yet drawing him physically closer, as if she attempts
empathy by becoming one, joining together in a union. Confused, Mike pushes
back but then reacts tenderly to her kindness. Bill however cannot face his
girlfriend’s infidelity and stalks off, failing to confront Mike. When Martha
does spurn Mike’s advances he decides to take what he wants by force, evoking
the rape for which he was punished. He even allows Tony to take his turn and
here their humanity stops and the two become callous, animalistic, as if acting
on instinct alone. But who made them that way? Are they solely to blame? Is
Martha to blame for her own victimization? Is the Army to blame for making
these young men murderers before they’re old enough to drink legally?
Bill is finally driven to violence in the final act as he and Mike beat the
shit out of each other. The rifle that was presented earlier when they killed
the neighbor’s dog now appears for seemingly its original purpose. But Kazan
drives the story into another direction and there are no deaths, just men
struggling in the snow and mud. As the two visitors drive away after raping
Martha, Bill stumbles into the dank room and asks Martha, “Are you all right?” But
he could be speaking to the audience. In this dark and lonely domestic conflict
they’re all casualties of war.
Final Cut: (B)
