Der er krigsfilm og der er krigsfilm. I 100-året for 1914 er det godt at minde sig om, at Tarkovskijs Ivans Barndom, Elim Klimovs Gå og Se, Kubricks Ærens Vej og endda Malicks The Thin Red Line findes. Jeg genså den i går. Den er bygget på James Jones’ (Herfra til Evigheden) oplevelser på Guadalcanal i 1942, titlen låner den fra Kiplings digt Tommy (1892), hvori den tynde røde linje er grænsen mellem normalitet og galskab og mellem liv og død på slagmarken.

Måske ser noget af lydsiden prætentiøs ud på tryk – Homers Illiaden i rubrikken – men i sammenhængen falder det naturligt. Det kan se ud sådan her og man kan se den online, hvis man har to timer og 50 minutter til at meditere over krigens væsen. Der er ingen krig nogensinde, der er den sidste. Den næste findes allerede som frø i jorden – også i Europa.

This great evil, where’s it come from? How’d it steal into the world? What seed, what root did it grow from? Who’s doing this? Who’s killing us, robbing us of life and light, mocking us with the sight of what we might’ve known? Does our ruin benefit the earth, does it help the grass to grow, the sun to shine? Is this darkness in you, too? Have you passed through this night? Look at this jungle. Look at those vines, the way they twine around, swallowing everything. Nature’s cruel.”

“Hours like months, days like years. Walked into the golden age. Stood on the shore of a new world. You are my sons—my dear sons—you live inside me now. I’ll carry you with me wherever I go.“

“My dear wife. You get something twisted out of your insides with all of this blood, filth, and noise.I’m going to stay changeless for you. I want to come back to you the man I was before. How we get to those other shores? How do we get to those blue hills? Who lit this flame in us? No war can put it out, conquer it.”

“They were a family. How did they break up and come apart? So that now we’re turned against each other. Each standing in the other’s light? How did we lose the good that was given us? Let it slip away scattered, careless.”