Apocalypto vs The Pianist

Mel Gibson is an asshole. There, got that out of the way. I know some of you won’t see Apocalypto, and don’t want me to see it, and certainly don’t want to hear me say how much I liked it. So, I’m prefacing the compliments with insults. Douchebag. Mel Gibson is also a douchebag. And a jerk. And he litters. And never says please or thank you. (And his movie rocks. Shh.)

Apocalypto opens with a group of Mayan hunters. They aren’t the usual stoic warriors we see in movies. These guys are all buddies, cracking dick jokes and pulling pranks. Soon, however, they’re stopped cold by a huge, haunted tribe staggering past them. A member of the other tribe says their village was attacked. None of the hunters seems much fazed by this, except Jaguar Paw (Rudy Youngblood), who is shocked that this large a tribe could be this afraid and defeated.

Soon, he’ll understand. Jaguar Paw’s village is also raided, with nearly everyone bound, shackled, and led through the jungle (Jaguar Paw hides his son and pregnant wife inside what appears to be a well, out of sight and with no means of escape). Jaguar Paw and his friends are led to a huge mine, where pyramids, temples and altars are being built by powder-stained slaves. They’re painted blue and led to the top of a pyramid, where they will serve as human sacrifice to appease the sun god. If you make it this far into the film and wonder why Gibson hasn’t gotten his violence fix yet, you won’t have to wait much longer. The sacrifice scenes are just this side of comically violent, with hearts being ripped from chests, backs being broken, and fresh heads tumbling down steps. It’s all saved by the genuine fear on Youngblood’s face, which takes the scene from parody to nightmare.

Jaguar Paw is among a lucky few who make it from the sacrificial stage to the gladiator field, and through his own cunning speed, into the field and then the jungle, where he’s being pursued by a dozen or so angry Mayan soldiers. What follows is roughly ninety minutes of pure action; a bloody, heart-pounding blend of The Fugitive, Predator and The Last of the Mochians. Is that what you expected? Yeah, me either. Apocalypto, with all the things it could have been, is fun. What a nice surprise.

Jaguar Paw is terrified in the forest, but he knows it well, and once he’s able to get a bit of a lead, he starts fighting back. I’m not going to spoil any of it, but each time Jaguar Paw turns to face his enemies, Apocalypto is a mad rush. Rudy Youngblood is a fine actor, and an even better athlete. I know some things, like speed, can be faked with cameras. But dude is agile, graceful, and badass, whether inching through quicksand, gliding up the side of a tree, or dodging ax-blades. That he has to do most of it barefoot and near-naked takes him into the pantheon of movie heroes.

During the chase, Gibson cuts periodically to Seven, Jaguar Paw’s pregnant wife, who’s trapped in that pit (with the rainwater rising), trying desperately to get her son to safety before she gives birth to his brother. This subplot, as well as the forehead-slapping ending, keep Apocalypto grounded in as much humanity and reality as possible for a story so steeped in legend and mystery.

As with Apocalypto, I had many friends who refused to see The Pianist, and didn’t want to hear how much I loved it. I did. I loved The Pianist, even though its director is a bad man. I can’t help it.

The Pianist stars Adrien Brody as Wladyslaw Szpilman, a pianist near Warsaw during World War II. At first, the war doesn’t have much of an effect on Szpilman. His job is decidedly posh, and as long as the bombing doesn’t knock out the acoustics, he’s got no worries. But then there is an invasion, and his family must flee, and they’re captured. The Pianist, which is basically a one-man show for most of the film, is almost unbearably sad and tragic. It whittles the sweep of Schindler’s List down to one gaunt, desperate face. Adrien Brody is uncommonly good as Szpilman, tracking the man’s descent from happy home life, to imprisonment, to escape to desperation. Somehow, he’s out there by himself, and we’ve no reason to believe he’ll make it out okay. He’s like Jaguar Paw, but with no true skills beyond the artistic. Szpilman is lucky, and is able to rely on the kindness of a tiny amount of the people he encounters. Brody has a moment at a piano he’s afraid to actually touch that is one of my favorites on film. His performance won a greatly-deserved Oscar, and is, I think, one of the best of the past couple decades.

And so, some of you will skip this double-feature. You’re in no mood for the work—no matter how great—of a bigot or a pervert. In a way, I don’t blame you. On the other hand, we know so little about most directors, other than the fact that most of their movies suck. Here are two that don’t.

Apocalypto: A
The Pianist: A