The bigger picture

Before Friday night, I’d read and watched reviews on Clint Eastwood’s "American Sniper"—some ripping apart its glorification of what they believe is portrayed as an oversimplified war, others supporting its exposure of the psychological, emotional and physical trauma faced by service men and women. The movie, now nominated for six Oscars, is based on the memoir of the late Navy SEAL Chris Kyle, considered the deadliest sniper in American history.

As most things American, it has become a political controversy. A couple of my friends, for example, have deemed it a form of right-wing propaganda that directly links Iraq with the 9/11 attacks. One friend in particular complained that it encourages Anti-Muslim sentiment and justifies America’s invasion of Iraq. He also mentioned that the Chris Kyle he’d seen in video interviews was not as compassionate and “humane” as he was made out to be in the film. Well, fine. We all have the right, as humans and as Americans, to our own opinion. I’ve heard yours, I understand yours. Now, here’s mine.

I walked in and out of that movie theater knowing that President Bush had invaded Iraq on, what later proved to be, questionable grounds. I knew the September 11 attacks were not America’s only reason for declaring war. I would hope that, by now, citizens are aware that the Bush administration's decision to invade Iraq was based on flawed intelligence regarding weapons of mass destruction. Real life is, and always will be, more layered and difficult to understand than anything we see on a movie screen. We shouldn’t need or expect Hollywood to educate us on a wartime matter. It is an industry that thrives on drama and entertainment value. Expect embellishments. Expect bias. It is the society we live in. Movies, unfortunately, wouldn’t enjoy record-breaking box office success if they depicted factually accurate historical accounts.

In the film, we see a sniper return home after four tours overseas. The adjustment is nearly impossible. Can you imagine? Spending nearly 1000 days in military combat, surrounded by death—day in and day out. It’s a poisonous environment that often leads to a poisonous mental state. According to the PTSD Foundation of America, one in three returning troops are diagnosed with serious post-traumatic stress symptoms. These symptoms can involve traumatic flashbacks triggered by visual reminders. Loud noises especially can often cause off-duty troops to relive moments of military combat. The foundation also found that from 2006 to 2009, a recorded 1,100 troops had taken their own lives. In 2009 alone, 245 soldiers in the service had killed themselves. On the other side of the spectrum lie the service men and women who isolate themselves from society. Some troops who struggle with the disorder can also feel numb, pushing away the people or places that remind them of the trauma.

They can suffer from nightmares, flashbacks, depression, drug addiction, or alcohol abuse once relieved of duty. Post-traumatic stress disorder is a very real consequence suffered by soldiers—one that takes a toll on their physical and mental health. The hardship to assimilate back into society, to become a full-time husband and father again, is sometimes too difficult to bear. It’s a sad thing to think that many troops who survive their tour end up dying by their own hand back home. It’s easy to believe that once our troops are back, a couple of parades and handshakes will help them settle in again. And you know, maybe it helps. But it could never be enough.

If you end up going to watch American Sniper in theater, I hope you pay closer attention to the bigger picture than you do the fake baby that many magazines have felt the need to point out. Though the actors are Hollywood hotshots, remember that they are portraying very real people who face very real trauma. Remember that the decisions made during modern counterinsurgency warfare can affect soldiers for the rest of their lives. Consider the struggle they face to become the person they once were.

Francis Curiel is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every other Monday.