A culture clash is
always a great subject for a movie. Many screen adaptations of Shakespeare’s Romeo
and Juliet raise the barriers separating the two lovers by showing that
they come from very different ethnicities: see, of course, the (Anglo) Jets and
the (Puerto Rican) Sharks of West Side Story. And the suspense element
in international thrillers like The Third Man or The Da Vinci Code is
heightened when the participants in the drama do not share a common background.
Many police dramas set the values of the law-enforcement community against
those of the general public. But 1985’s Witness is perhaps unique in
bringing together a Philadelphia homicide detective and devout members of
Pennsylvania’s rural Amish population, which shuns technology while cleaving to
religious and social values that are centuries old.
The story of Witness is a complex one. An
eight-year-old Amish boy, on a rare trip out of town with his recently widowed
mother, goes into a train-station men’s room and is horrified to see a brutal
murder. He’s the “witness” of the story’s title, and soon Philadelphia police
detective John Book (Harrison Ford) is on the case, which becomes far more
complicated once it’s known that the victim is an undercover cop, and that corrupt
members of his own department are responsible for the death. Through a thorny set
of circumstances, Book seeks refuge with the boy's pretty mother, Rachel (Kelly
McGillis), and her family. To save himself from detection, he must learn to
blend in with the rural, peaceable Amish way of life. This means suppressing
his own basic urge to fight back against adversaries, and also fending off the
growing attraction he feels toward Rachel. (In perhaps the film’s most quietly
complex role, Rachel is attracted to him as well.)
When spotting this film on a shelf in my local library, I
was looking for Places in the Heart, I wanted to re-watch that 1984 drama
in tribute to Danny Glover, who had named this as his favorite performance. To
my surprise, Glover is also a featured player in Witness, released just
one year later, and a comparison of the two roles verifies the breadth of his
talent. As Moze Hadner, he’s a down-home drifter, not entirely honest, by no
means educated, but filled with a generosity of spirit that ultimately makes
him lovable. One year later, as police lieutenant James McFee, he’s a decorated
cop who has chosen to put his talents to nefarious ends.
I’m no expert on the so-called “plain” lifestyle of the
Amish, but cast and crew seem to have worked hard to set these characters apart
from our “English” world. In the course of the film we get a good look at Amish
ways, particularly in a spectacular barn-raising scene, and come to respect
their values. There’s also one particularly grotesque moment when we see how
stoically the Amish separate themselves from local hooligans who delight in
tormenting them. In the leading role, Ford achieves an effective balance
between his familiar machismo and respect for a culture totally alien to his
own way of life. There are strong supporting performances by young Lukas Haas,
ballet star Alexander Godunov (as a would-be suitor for Rachel), and others,
all under the effective direction of Australian Peter Weir, making his first
American feature. I was especially taken by the cinematography by John Seale,
which owes much to the tender light so evident in the 17th century
Dutch paintings of Johannes Vermeer. This was one of the film’s eight Oscar
nominations: it won statuettes for its screenplay and editing, and a lot of
love from audiences.
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