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Fine and Finer
A Review of Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World
by Marian Kester Coombs
Human Events, November 24, 2003

ust when Hollywood was starting to look like an irresistible target for cluster bombing, along come films like Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings and now Peter Weir's Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World to remind us what bliss it is in this dawn to be alive and going to the movies.

Peter Jackson called his trilogy "a bunch of Kiwis making a very English film with American money." Master and Commander amends that slightly to "a bunch of Aussies." If one had any doubt that America remains a child of Great Britain, imagine the reception of a film -- "Le Cote loin de la terre," perhaps -- telling the same tale from the French imperial navy's point of view.

Weir's film, drawing its compound title and action from more than one of Patrick O'Brian's twenty Aubrey-Maturin novels, is a tour de force of how cinema can raise all aspects of sensory experience to artistic and dramatic heights: the groan of the ship (H.M.S. Surprise) as she rolls on the swells, the creak of rigging and snap of sail, the smack of dancing ocean on the prow, the sparkling, unending flow of sea wind -- and all these are but a few of the Foley sound effects.

Into this intoxication of the senses director Weir has set a screenplay of tasteful intelligence, true to the characters, dialogue and historicity of the novels. Weir's fine choice of actors guaranteed that rough Captain Jack Aubrey (Russell Crowe was born to play this part), free-thinking naturalist Dr. Stephen Maturin, indomitable little Lord Blakeney and the rest of the Surprise crew would step off the page intact and ready for action.

And that action is superb. The chaotic hell of naval combat and the plunging terror of a storm at sea have never been better rendered. Action junkies will imbibe their fill, while aesthetes will revel in the historically recreated vessels, weapons, maps, nautical instruments and uniforms, the dazzling vistas of the Galapagos, the striking faces of the ship's company.

Not least among the beauties of this film is its score -- no empty orchestral bombast, but chamber music that brilliantly weaves into and out of the real string-playing of bosom friends Jack and Stephen, and thrumming drums that echo the "beat to quarters" summoning the crew to battle stations.

Speaking of bosom friends, the love that underlies male bonding is on full display here in its multiple aspects: fond fatherliness toward the often very young midshipmen, possessive pride toward the ship herself ("She's in her prime," boasts Aubrey), hero-worship toward such revered figures as Lord Nelson, fellow-warrior respect toward those who do their duty above and beyond, sheer joyful mateyness toward comrades with whom one has everything, including life and death, in common.

It is more than fair to say that the presence of women is not missed here. The crew replicates all necessary roles and division of labor, from cooking for both the crude mess and the refined captain's table to scrubbing decks, from mending sail and sewing shrouds to doctoring wounds and singing, from passionately observing the exotic new flora and fauna of the Galapagos to lovingly re-carving the ship's shot-riddled figurehead.

Above all one is grateful that no Keira Knightley or Uma Thurman is made to leap down from the mizzen, saber drawn, and lead all hands in overcoming the demon privateer Acheron. By so vividly recreating and re-imagining the real world of Napoleonic-era sea warfare, Master and Commander shows up the ludicrous and contemptible untruth of our new "warrior-babe" genre.

The spirit of men on the exhilarating hunt for an enemy who would dare threaten to invade their homeland -- "Do you want your children singing the Marseillaise?" bellows Aubrey -- is what this film is all about.

The Surprise is a glorious man's world devoted to King and Country -- and spoils and grog and camaraderie. Men at their best: boys striving to be like the men they idolize, scientists pursuing knowledge for its own sake, naval officers consumed by duty, lowly deckhands proud to break their backs in service despite "the butcher's bill."

One reviewer of O'Brian's novels believes they prove that "times change but people don't." Sadly but truly, "Master and Commander" is evidence to the contrary. We have changed much. Yet we hunger to find our way back to manhood, which is a hopeful sign. The $135 million spent to make this film is not a penny wasted if it can help us in that quest. See it more than once.