Why do most people who've seen both insist on deciding which of 1998's WWII pictures they prefer: Saving Private Ryan or The Thin Red Line? It's an apples-versus-oranges competition. The Thin Red Line's Guadalcanal setting immediately distinguishes the two--Terrence Malick's Second World War looks more like Vietnam. Feels it, too.

The first Terrence Malick film since 1978's Days of Heaven stars Jim Caviezel as Pvt. Witt, a reluctant rifleman for the Charlie C company. When we first meet him, he has gone AWOL with another soldier to a remote Pacific Island and befriended its natives. For Witt, a man who believes, without arrogance, that he is above war, this is paradise. An American ship eventually retrieves him, and Sgt. Welsh (Penn) gives him a verbal spanking but nothing harsher. If Welsh had the guts, he'd have run away, too.

I don't want to give the wrong impression: this isn't a character driven movie, though faint outlines of humanity grace the exhilirating scenes of combat which constitute most of act two. (I detailed the prologue above only because it is memorable.) Nolte is especially commanding as Col. Tall, a veteran with a Patton complex; envious of his inferiors, he has waited fifteen years to lead the troops, while war came quickly for them. Tall never opts for the path of least resistance when designing a battleplan--he craves only victory, and victory without bloodshed doesn't make the history books. It is his mission to conquer a Japanese-occupied hill and he wants to lose men in the process.

(Aside: I dislike The Thin Red Line's "Love Boat"-style casting. The next cameo never failed to pull me out of the Terrence Malick Experience; it's one thing if John Travolta is the lead, because he then has time to establish an identity separate from his star persona. If he appears for three or four minutes never to be heard from again, it's a different matter entirely. Woody Harrelson drops in out of the blue at the midway point only to be violently killed seconds later. Disturbing Behavior's Nick Stahl, too. Was I distraught by their deaths? No, because I hadn't had time to adjust to either's notable presence yet.)

The Thin Red Line isn't made up of scenes, but bits, most of them wordless except for mellifluous narration. Aside from the characterization of Tall, Malick seems more intrigued by the subconscious mind of a soldier than by actions or attitudes ripe for deconstruction. A typical grunt would have trouble verbalizing the terrible beauties he is humbled by in war, and the voiceovers were wisely written not in the form of letters or reflection but instead as searching interior monologues. It's a technique that the director has used effectively before.

John Toll's cinematography encompasses Malick's introverted approach to the material. During the fighting sequences, Toll's camera is much less interested in carnage than torment. At other moments, he helps transport us into the metaphysical state of soldiers by showing us at skewed angles what's got their attention: a bird, a dark field turning optimistically bright with the afternoon sun, silhouetted trees... It helps that he doesn't shoot these welcome distractions subjectively--instead, he pursues a thing's essence, to great success. On purely aesthetic terms, The Thin Red Line is a masterpiece. But it doesn't have the completeness of a great work of cinema--it's almost all subtext. Malick has taken a straightforward James Jones (he also wrote From Here to Eternity) book and turned it into a beautiful yet sketchy tone poem.

At home, The Thin Red Line's visual and sonic virtues could only be fully appreciated on DVD. The 16x9-enhanced (Fox's first since The Alien Legacy), 2.35:1 letterboxed image is breathtaking, even downconverted for 4:3 (i.e. standard) televisions. The compression is invisible. Watch this one in total darkness for maximum impact.

The disc contains two Dolby tracks--I listened to the 5.1 mix alone, which is fantastic. Listen for the subtle LFE effects early on as the boat cuts through peaceful waters. Other passages supply more obvious demo material--every single explosion threatened my foundation! Hans Zimmer's score haunts you from all corners of the room. Dialogue never sounds distorted--a good thing, too, considering how often Nolte's yelling must have peaked recording levels.

Unfortunately, The Thin Red Line's well-crafted trailer is not included. We get instead eleven Melanesian songs, each new one barely distinguishable from the last. Some of them can be heard in the film itself, while others have been taken from a companion CD unimaginatively called "Melanesian Songs", advertised as you listen to these tribal music selections.-Bill Chambers