Schindler’s List (1993) [Collector’s Gift Set] – DVD|[20th Anniversary Limited Edition] – Blu-ray Disc

***/****
DVD – Image
B+ Sound
A
Extras A
BD – Image A+ Sound A Extras B-

starring Liam Neeson, Ben Kingsley, Ralph Fiennes,
Caroline Goodall
screenplay by Steven Zaillian, based on the novel by Thomas Keneally
directed by Steven Spielberg

click
any image to enlarge

by Bill
Chambers It's not the "I could've done more" speech that
rankles, but rather the scene directly preceding it, in which Herr
Direktor Oskar Schindler (Liam Neeson) shames a gaggle of SS
guards into leaving the 1100 Jews they've been ordered to kill unharmed
in a manner not far removed from one of paterfamilias
Mike's guilt-trips on "The Brady Bunch". ("You don't really want to
shoot these nice people, do you?" he asks (I'm hardly
paraphrasing)–and one-by-one they skulk off.) I realized during my
first viewing of Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List
in almost a decade that I'm too much the representationalist to treat
any text as sacred just because its subject matter is. Ergo, I allowed
myself to cringe whenever I perceived Spielberg to be leaning on the
crutch of suburban ethics, which he does often in the film's "for he's
a jolly good fellow" denouement.*

Though 1993's Schindler's List marks a
redemption of sorts for Spielberg–certainly from an awards
standpoint–following the prosaic Indiana Jones and the Last
Crusade (1989), the slight Always
(1989), the ugly Hook (1991), and the
malnourished Jurassic Park (1993), it marked the
end of that fumes-fuelled era, not the beginning of the next one (he
wouldn't step into the director's chair again for nearly a
half-decade): If it goes without saying that Schindler's List
has resonance those four pictures lack, there remain traces of creative
fatigue in evidence. Spielberg avoided the storyboarding process on Schindler's
List to inhibit his wily visual imagination, an act of
artistic, nay, Jewish humility (also the reason he waived his directing
fee, terming it "blood money"), but this makes his occasional capitulations to pop temptation
resemble lapses in willpower, and it gives the picture a perverse
inflating/deflating balloon rhythm that can suggest laziness above
apprehension or compromise.

Spielberg first entertained the idea
of doing Schindler's List upon the 1982
publication of Thomas Keneally's Booker Prize-winning source novel
(which, controversially, won for Fiction), but some soul-searching led
him to conclude that he lacked the maturity to shoulder the project's
significance. One candidate to grab the reins, Sidney Lumet, reportedly
felt he'd already contributed his voice to the chorus with the searing The
Pawnbroker, while Billy Wilder got as far as turning in a
draft of the script before announcing his retirement from the industry altogether. By the time Spielberg felt up to the challenge
(why he suddenly did is something of an intellectual cul-de-sac),
the rights had fallen into the hands of Martin Scorsese; a successful
swap of Cape Fear for Schindler's List
was carried out. Sweetening the deal was Spielberg's attachment to Cape
Fear as producer, blessing Scorsese with the biggest budget
of his career.

Spielberg's boldest decision at the
film's helm was to shoot it in black-and-white (as he had intended on The
Color Purple), ostensibly because newsreel footage had
become so inextricably linked with his vision of WWII that he could
only "see" it sans colour. (Prideful
duplicity–just admit you're hedging your Oscar® bets, already–is
unfortunately one of Spielberg's dominant traits: His previous WWII
epics, 1941 and Empire of the Sun,
were both in colour.) But the picture's greyscale images are more noir
than Movietone. I'm uncomfortable with an expressionistic silhouette
created by a spray of Nazi gunfire at the top of a stairwell, for
instance, because it feels glibly Hitchcockian. Spielberg is such a
filmmaking savant that it's hard to tell where the cinema ends and the
protection of his sanity begins in Schindler's List,
though to be fair, he doesn't always duck behind these Hays Code-isms.

Black-and-white also, somewhat
ironically, enables Schindler's List's most
cloying trope, a splash of red that greets the introduction of a little
girl Schindler spots running for cover amidst the liquidation of the
Warsaw ghetto: However audacious this sequence, it's hard not to look
on it as another Spielberg kid exploited for pathos in the Chaplin
vein. (Roger Ebert ludicrously declared that "[Spielberg depicts the
evils of the Holocaust] without the tricks of his trade, the
directorial and dramatic contrivances that would inspire the usual
melodramatic payoffs"–did Ebert repress the nauseating clincher to the
'red' girl of Schindler chancing upon her corpse later on in the film?)
These and other "tricks"–e.g., a belaboured parallel cutting technique
that insists on contrasting Schindler's benignity with the psychopathic
demonstrations of SS Haupsturmführer Amon Goeth
(Ralph Fiennes, hitting his movie career running)–are somewhat maddening
shortcuts to effect.

Nevertheless, there are criticisms
commonly levelled at Spielberg, Neeson, and screenwriter Steven
Zaillian I disagree with, such as the accusation that the trio blunted
its collective depiction of Schindler for the masses. A Nazi party
member with a reputation for generosity, Schindler "bought" camp-bound
Jews to work at his munitions factory, where they would have safe
harbour and manufacture defective weapons, all the better to subvert
the war effort. This is Schindler's legacy, yet people want to hear
that he was a chauvanistic, unscrupulous prick. They want him flattered
less than he is in the moment where a homely woman–on the heels of
being turned away by a receptionist seemingly hired for his superficial
eye–penetrates Schindler's inner sanctum by dolling up her
appearance; less than he is when he chews out his accountant, Itzhak
Stern (Ben Kingsley), for introducing him to a one-armed machinist;
even less than he is as he puts his wife on the next train in response
to her ultimatum that he stop straying.

My gut tells me that Schindler's
characterization is on the receiving end of politically-deferred
umbrage for the film's perfectly rational sanctification of its Jewish
characters–and what application would morally complex victims have in
the context of Schindler risking life and limb for them except to
undermine the drama? "The Jews," wrote devout Spielbergite Armond White
in a fascinating FILM COMMENT piece that mostly
derides the film (and that for a brief period earned White a scarlet
"A" for anti-Semitic),"are ennobled when called upon, in the end, to
display nobility as opposed to piously asserting it." Jawohl.

THE DVD
Universal releases Schindler's List on DVD in
three separate editions. We received the handsome gift set for review,
whose contents include the widescreen disc of the film, Keneally's
movie tie-in paperback reissue (scrubbed of its original title, Schindler's Arc),
the soundtrack CD, a senitype, and a slim volume of David James's
gorgeous production stills called Schindler's
List:
Images of the Steven Spielberg Film. The most critical
ingredient is the DVD itself, of course, a dual-sided, dual-layered
platter containing the film and fewer extras than one might've hoped
for. I found the 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer to be the
weakest of any Spielberg title since 1941, a fact
due solely to too many dips in quality–various inserts have a smeared,
ghosted appearance, and edge-enhancement abounds. Meanwhile, though I
interpreted the extremely hot whites as part and parcel of
cinematographer Janusz Kaminski's documentary aesthetic ("Kaminski's
b&w, a superlatively achieved combination of documentary style,
natural light, and dramatic stylization, actually serves a banal,
reverential function," argues White), I doubt the same can be said for
the thin, intrusive scratches that occasionally run down the length of
the image (see the 13:29 mark of side 2 for a glaring illustration).
Overall, a surprisingly inconsistent video presentation.

Audio fares better: The
indistinguishable DTS and Dolby Digital 5.1 mixes exhibit attention to
ambient sound, although the LFE channel is relatively ignored. There is
no film-related bonus material with the exception of
biographies/filmographies for cast and crew, while the remaining
supplements are pitched at educators (Laurent Bouzereau's tearjerking
77-minute compilation of testimonials from surviving Schindlerjuden
"Voices from the List", plus a lengthy text-based biography of Oskar
Schindler) and philanthropists (the 9-minute "The Shoah Foundation
Story with Steven Spielberg"). To that end, a foldout form inside the
packaging solicits a donation to the Shoah Foundation. Originally
published: March 9, 2004.

THE BLU-RAY
DISC
Universal's
20^th Anniversary Limited
Edition Blu-ray release of Schindler's List does
Janusz Kaminski's
cinematography, at least, very proud. The 1.85:1, 1080p transfer
continues a
legacy of exquisite HD upgrades to Spielberg titles with a clean but
filmlike
image so tactile as to put the 2004 DVD (bundled with the Blu-ray along
with an Ultraviolet copy, because Schindler's
List was intended to be watched on an iPhone) to
shame. Much of the movie's subtext is communicated sartorially, and here every coat is
detailed to the stitch. Dynamic range richly
improves upon
that of not only the standard-def alternative, but also theatrical
prints,
which were processed on colour stock to accommodate the colour bookends
and
"girl in red" (a less washed-out red on Blu-ray), although it
is the
tendency of whites at the flashbulb end of the spectrum to run
exceptionally
hot, expunging whatever nominal shading was visible in those areas of
the image
before. Blood sprays out in jets I didn't recall being so horrific, and
the
sight of Ralph Fiennes taking a leak has a similarly nauseating
clarity.
Through it all is a sharp, satisfying scrim of grain that spikes in
intensity
during optical titles, of which there are several–a blunt reminder
that Schindler's
List, despite maintaining its youthful glow, hails from an
era when film
was still essentially an analog medium. Though accomplished digitally,
the
painstaking restoration effort–necessary already for motion pictures
of this
vintage–shows. The attendant 5.1 DTS-HD MA track proves the film had
modest
sound design to begin with, but the mix enjoys greater transparency and
warmth
in lossless audio, with the guitar rendition of John Williams's score
almost cradling the viewer.

And that's all she wrote. No
trailers, no hype;
the continued lack of anything resembling making-of material feels
disingenuous, even self-aggrandizing: This isn't the Holocaust itself,
it's a
movie, one not without its Argo-ish dramatic
embellishments.
(Schindler
was never arrested for
kissing a Jewish girl.) Voices from the List, the text bio, and the "USC Shoah
Foundation" featurette return via recycled DVD. While the slipcase packaging
is attractive and sturdy, you don't get the frills this time–the
book, the photo spread. Modesty can become its
own
kind of irreverence.

*Except Spielberg's not leaning on
the code of suburban conduct in this example: the "I should've done
more" speech never happened on record; the "You don't really want to
shoot these nice people, do you?" guilt-trip did. Occasioned by the
arrival of the gift set was a long-overdue reading of Keneally's
best-seller. I picked it up after watching the film and learned a
lot–about history and about the meretriciousness of the auteurist
perspective. It's only because Spielberg left in the abovementioned
occurrence while omitting amoral details (like the Jewish workers
sabotaging Schindler's car to prevent him from leaving at war's end)
that I stand by the observation. return

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