Saving Private Ryan was my introduction to brutality. When I saw the first ten notes of the movie on a relative’ cable tv, I knew my fifth grade self couldn’t take a minute more. It wasn’t until years later that I had the courage to properly watch what became to be my personal greatest war movie of all time. The Pacific followed a similar fate. For years I knew of it, but kept putting it off for later. It wasn’t until a pandemic came along that I had the time.
And so I watched.
And I wish I watched it sooner. This miniseries was outstanding in its technical aspects (scooping up Primetime Emmy awards), I get it. What stood out for me was the exceptional editing and screenplay. Bomb explosions were intervowen with scenes of gardening and days at the park; relative peace in Australia juxtaposed with the sheer madness in the Pacific island chain; moments of violence side by side with moments of empathetic mercy. It made the episodes vibrate, latching on to you like an itch you can’t scratch.
The story is told through the lens of three characters from different backgrounds. This time, the narrative is not about a group (Band of Brothers), but about the individual. The world may be at war, but the battle that matters is in the solider’s head.
Episode 9 is the hardest to swallow. It’s a difficult viewing, not because of its portrayal of the price of war on both sides but because it shows the perils of falling into the pit of amorality. While humanizing the ‘enemy’ is not new in television, the Pacific delivers this in a tour de force of brutality and horror. And I think this is the only way it should be done.
Conflict and human civilizations are siblings. That is the ugly truth. The Pacific is an honest accounting of the costs of peace, told masterfully and thoughtfully. Would I watch this again in the future? Yes, I would (even if it eats away at my soul everytime). It’s like Grave of the Fireflies all over again. Rating 4/4.
Watch the trailer below. Available for streaming on HBO Go for PH viewers.
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