Mel Gibson’s Hacksaw Ridge is based on a true story. The film’s subject, Desmond T. Doss (Andrew Garfield), a pacifist who nonetheless served in the army during WWII as a medic, actually won the Medal of Honor and is credited with saving numerous lives. No doubt, he is a true American hero. And maybe it all went down exactly as Gibson depicts it. Maybe Doss stayed on top of that mountain ridge, after a bloody showdown with the Japanese, as the rest of the U.S. troops retreated to safer ground, and risked life and limb while saving the injured men. Maybe he made a makeshift pully and rubbed his hands bloody and raw lowering men off the cliff. Maybe he played dead, scrambled and hid from the “Japs”—to use the film’s parlance—and, his face covered in dirt and sweat and blood, said over and over again out loud, “Please God, let me save one more!” And maybe, just maybe, the next day he went back up on that ridge with his fellow soldiers and soccer-kicked an incoming grenade, saving even more men. But I apologize, dear reader, because at some point, I had to stifle a laugh. It was all just too much.
Mind you, this is the same Mel Gibson who made The Passion of the Christ and likes to bring his own special brand of religiosity, violence porn, and, let’s call it, “told you so porn” (a hero who gets to prove that EVERYONE IS WRONG ABOUT HIM) to the screen.
When Doss tells his army superiors that he refuses to carry a weapon— his argument is that, although the Bible says “thou shalt not kill,” he couldn’t watch other boys serve and die with a clear conscience—they laugh at him, tell him to go home, and ultimately, court martial him. After his father (Hugo Weaving), a deeply troubled and violent WWI vet haunted by his own time in the service, calls in a favor, Doss is found innocent and is allowed to serve without a gun. Of course, by the film’s end, both Vince Vaughn’s gruff Sergeant Howell and Sam Worthington’s stalwart Captain Glover have to admit they were all wrong about Doss. He’s no coward, but the best of men, the bravest of men, the truest of men… (Also forced to admit he was totally wrong about Doss—an alpha male fellow soldier played by Luke Bracey. That’s three groveling apologies, if you’re counting at home.)
All of this is persuasively mounted by Gibson, who is certainly a skilled director. He can stage a battle scene with gusto and knows how to keep a story humming. Even the emotional grace notes, like Doss’s courtship with a beautiful nurse (Teresa Palmer) and his devotion to his put-upon mother (Rachel Griffiths), are laid out with care. (A subplot, however, involving his brother also enlisting in the army is completely, inexplicably dropped.) But man, I thought most of this film was a load of hooey—right down to Garfield’s tremulous, moist-eyed performance and that sing-songy cornpoke accent of his. Indeed, the film’s extreme gore notwithstanding—and believe me, there are more severed limbs, exploding heads, and flying guts than in a Japanese horror film—Hacksaw Ridge felt more like WWII propaganda and religious myth-building than a serious examination of war and sacrifice.
That being said, the screening audience I saw the film with absolutely ate it up—one audience member told me I “better” give it 4 stars. Looks like Gibson will get to say, “I told you so” after all.