Munich

By David DiCerto

Catholic News Service

NEW YORK (CNS) — Midway through “Munich” (Universal), its conflicted protagonist acknowledges that he is “not comfortable with confusion.” Apparently, the film’s director, Steven Spielberg, does not share such discomfort as evidenced by the ambiguous message imparted by his riveting but morally fuzzy political thriller.

Based on the contested memoir “Vengeance: The True Story of an


	“Munich” (Universal) USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification, L — limited adult audience, films whose problematic content many adults would find troubling. Motion Picture Association of America rating, R — restricted. Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian. The film contains extremely graphic violence, including shooting and bomb-related gore, full-frontal nudity, two sexual encounters between husband and wife with partial nudity, as well as recurring rough and crude language and profanity. The USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification is L — limited adult audience, films whose problematic content many adults would find troubling. The Motion Picture Association of America rating is R — restricted. Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian.

Israeli Counter-Terrorist Team” by George Jonas, the complex film loosely dramatizes the covert mission of a team of Israeli assassins — led by Mossad (Israeli intelligence) agent Avner (Eric Bana) — who are charged with hunting down and killing 11 Palestinians living in Europe who supposedly had a hand in planning the slaughter of Jewish athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics by the terrorist group Black September. (The heinous crime is detailed through archival news footage and grisly, eye-averting re-enactments.)

Rounding out the unlikely hit squad are zealous South African getaway driver Steve (Daniel Craig); discreet Israeli “cleanup” guy Carl (Ciaran Hinds); German antique dealer and master forger Hans (Hanns Zischler); and Belgian toymaker Robert (Mathieu Kassovitz), who tinkers in explosives.

Recruited but officially disavowed by the Israeli government, the men are given a Swiss safe-deposit box full of cash and carte blanche to locate and execute their 11 targets, which they set out to do in several suspenseful sequences choreographed with Hitchcockian virtuosity, including a nail-biting scene involving a telephone and a child.

The strong lead performances are supported by solid turns by Geoffrey Rush as the team’s handler, and Michael Lonsdale and Mathieu Amalric as a shadowy, amoral father-son duo who sell “information” to the highest bidder.

Though set in the 1970s, a closing shot of the pre-9/11 New York skyline — with the twin towers pointedly in the background — underscores the contemporary political subtext.

In justifying the mission, Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir (Lynn Cohen) argues that “every civilization finds it necessary to make compromises with their own values.” Such murky reasoning blurs the ethical divide legitimizing a team member’s untenable contention that, “unless we learn to act like them (the terrorists), we’ll never defeat them.”

Working from an unevenly nuanced screenplay by Eric Roth and Tony Kushner, Spielberg allows both sides of the conflict a voice, encapsulating Palestinian grievances in a brief stairwell exchange between Avner and a young Arabic man, which, though thought-provoking, does little to shift sympathies away from Avner as the story’s default hero.

Spielberg takes pains to humanize the targets. One is an avuncular Arabic scholar who gives friendly outdoor lectures on “Scheherazade” in Rome, while another shares a smoke and genial small talk with Avner on a hotel balcony in Cyprus.

Pre-eminently problematic from a Catholic perspective is the film’s theme of revenge. Though government-sanctioned,, the tit-for-tat retribution equates to little more than vigilante justice.

Even more troubling is the manner in which the vendetta-style violence is wrapped in the pulse-pounding, cloak-and-dagger excitement of a Robert Ludlum spy novel. Such manipulative thrills belie the movie’s stated serious intent.

Ultimately, the film sends mixed signals, at once exposing the obscenity and futility of violence while exploiting it for titillating effect, as exhibited by a repellent sidebar execution involving gratuitous nudity.

The film compellingly makes the case for violence begetting violence — each notch in the team’s belt is juxtaposed by a news flash of a Palestinian act of bloody retaliation — but at times revels in the masterfully orchestrated murders, upping the viewers’ adrenaline rush with each hit.

Avner and his fellow assassins increasingly wrestle with their consciences — questioning the targets’ complicity in the Munich massacre — though the team members’ twinges of guilt seem injected to blunt the edge of their ugly deeds. Only Steve has no reservations, offering a “mazel tov” when one of the targets dies — proving that hatred is, like Amalric’s character, “ideologically promiscuous.”

By the end, Avner is a shell of the man he was, a clear statement by the filmmaker that violence comes at a cost of one’s soul. But his anguish is assuaged by the chilling assurances of his mother that, “whatever it takes,” she is proud of what he did, implying a tacit approval of the film’s eye-for-an-eye bloodshed.

With “Munich,” Spielberg continues a cinematic conversation about the value of human life begun with “Schindler’s List.” The message of that film was that “whoever saves one life, saves the world entire.” The grim counterpoint here suggests that in taking lives the light of our humanity is collectively dimmed.

DiCerto is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.