Master and Commander. Weir y Ford

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En 2003 se estrenó esta grandísima película de Peter Weir. Mucho más que una magnífica película de aventuras. Hacía tiempo que me tenía prometido escribir algo sobre ella. Usaré a Ford como espejo.

La aventura de la vida, la vida aventurera.

El héroe, la misión, el deber, el honor, el servicio, la amistad, la lealtad, el patriotismo, la valentía, la temeridad, la cobardía, el arrojo, la caballerosidad, la victoria, la derrota, el ejercicio del mando, la disciplina, la justicia, la piedad, el dolor, la vida y la muerte, la autoridad, el prestigio, la vocación, el adiestramiento, el talento, la intuición, el temor de Dios, la experiencia, el liderazgo, la obediencia, la paciencia, la tenacidad, la humildad, el orgullo, la gloria, el poder, el destino, la nostalgia, el hogar, el vino, la música, el canto, el grito, la rabia, el temple.

La caza, la batalla.

El fuego, el viento, el agua.

La tempestad y la calma.

El cielo y el infierno.

La guerra y la paz.

La mar y los marinos.

Una fragata, la Surprise. Su capitán, Jack Aubrey.

Yo creo que ustedes me entienden. Especialmente los fordianos.

Pocas veces el cine reciente ha sido capaz de reunir en una película de una forma tan admirable todo lo de arriba.

El mérito de Weir es grande, enorme para ser más preciso, porque hay un puente que permite saltar de esta película a la Trilogía de la Caballería de Ford. Palabras mayores.

“En el alcázar, erguido como todo el mundo” dice Aubrey a un guardiamarina, casi un niño, que se encoge automáticamente ante el fuego salvaje de la Acheron, el corsario francés, que tenazmente persigue a la Surprise.

Aubrey, que ha guerreado desde que era un niño, le dice esto sin enfadarse, pero a la vez, lo pone en pie con  un gesto rudamente paternal.

Es el territorio del mito, ese por el que John Ford se pasea como por el patio de su casa.

She wore a yelow ribbon:

— “Ummmm… un lazo amarillo…, señorita Dandridge. ¿Sabe lo que significa en la caballería? Un amor.

— “Lo sé, Capitán Brittles, lo llevo por usted”.

“So here they are: the dog-faced soldiers, the regulars, the fifty-cents-a-day professionals… riding the outposts of a nation. From Fort Reno to Fort Apache – from Sheridan to Startle – they were all the same: men in dirty-shirt blue and only a cold page in the history books to mark their passing. But wherever they rode – and whatever they fought for – that place became the United States”.

Captain Nathan Brittles: [the troop presents him with a solid silver watch for his retirement. He puts on his glasses and reads the engraved sentiment on the back] “To Capt. Brittles from C Troop. Lest we forget.”

Capitán Jack Aubrey: “Inglaterra está bajo amenaza de invasión, y aunque nosotros estemos al otro lado del mundo, este barco es nuestro hogar. Esta nave es Inglaterra”.

Jack Aubrey con su segundo, Tom Pullings

Captain Nathan Brittles: [Cohill and Pennell are about to fight over Olivia] Button your shirt, Mister Pennell! Thought better of you. Four years out here and still actin’ like a wet-eared “kaydet” on the Hudson. What is this all about, Mr. Cohill?

Lt. Flint Cohill: Sir, I… I decline to answer… respectfully.

Captain Nathan Brittles: Mr. Cohill, it is a bitter thing, indeed, to learn that an officer who has had nine years experience in the cavalry – the officer to whom I am surrendering command of this troop in two more days – should have so little grasp of leadership as to allow himself to be chivvied into a go at fisticuffs while ‘Taps’ still sounds over a brave man’s grave! God help this troop when I’m gone.

Captain Nathan Brittles: Sgt. Tyree, I’m ordering you to volunteer again.

 

Capt. Jack Aubrey: For England, for home, and for the prize!

Top Sergeant Quincannon: [about to cross a river] Can you swim, Dickie me boy?

Dickie, small boy: No.

Top Sergeant Quincannon: Well, I’m the best swimmer in the world. Once I swam the English Channel… with an anvil on me chest.

Dr. Stephen Maturin: Mr Blakeney, it would appear that you have the makings of a naturalist.

Blakeney: Well, sir, perhaps I could combine them to be a sort of… fighting naturalist, like you, sir.

Dr. Stephen Maturin: They don’t combine too well, I find. Right…

[about to get up even though he’s still recovering from injury]

Blakeney: Should you really be getting up, sir?

Dr. Stephen Maturin: Mr Blakeney, are you also a doctor?

Blakeney: No, sir.

Dr. Stephen Maturin: No, you’re not.

[gets up]

Olivia Dandridge: [after the massacre at Sudrow’s Wells] You don’t have to say it, Captain. I know all this is because of me; because I wanted to see the West; because I wasn’t – I wasn’t “Army” enough to stay the winter.

Captain Nathan Brittles: You’re not quite “Army” yet, miss… or you’d know never to apologize… it’s a sign of weakness.

Olivia Dandridge: Yes, but this was your last patrol and I’m to blame for it.

Captain Nathan Brittles: Only the man who commands can be blamed. It rests on me… mission failure!

Captain Nathan Brittles: [while burying the dead] I also commend to your keeping, Sir, the soul of Rome Clay, late Brigadier General, Confederate States Army. Known to his comrades here, Sir, as Trooper John Smith, United States Cavalry… a gallant soldier and a Christian gentleman.

 

 

 

Capt. Jack Aubrey: If wind and tide had been against us, I should have said yes. They’re not. I’m obliged to say no.

Dr. Stephen Maturin: Oh, I see. I see. So, after all this time in your service, I must simply content myself to form part of this belligerent expedition. Hurry past inestimable wonders, bent solely on destruction. I shall say nothing of the corruption of power or its abuse…

Capt. Jack Aubrey: You forget yourself, Doctor.

Dr. Stephen Maturin: No, Jack. No. You’ve forgotten yourself. You see, for my part, I look upon a promise as binding.

Capt. Jack Aubrey: The promise was conditional.

Dr. Stephen Maturin: It never occurred to me…

Capt. Jack Aubrey: I command a king’s ship, not a private yacht! WE DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR YOUR DAMNED HOBBIES, SIR!

Chief Pony That Walks: Hey, Nathan! Nathan! I am a Christian! Hallelujah! Old friend, me. Long time. Long time.

Captain Nathan Brittles: I come in peace, Pony That Walks.

Chief Pony That Walks: Talk a salt, Nathan. Take salt. Smoke pipe. Good. Good.

Captain Nathan Brittles: Pony That Walks, my heart is sad at what I see. Your young men painted for war. Their scalp knives red. The medicine drums talking. It is a bad thing!

Chief Pony That Walks: A bad thing, Nathan. Many will die. My young men, your young men. No good. No good.

Captain Nathan Brittles: We must stop this war.

Chief Pony That Walks: Too late, Nathan. Young men do not listen to me. They listen to Big Medicine. Yellow Hair Custer dead. Buffalo come back. Red sun. Too late, Nathan! You will come with me. Hunt buffalo together. Smoke many pipes. We are too old for war.

Captain Nathan Brittles: Yes, we are too old for war. But old men should stop wars.

Chief Pony That Walks: Too late, too late! Many squaws will sing the Death Songs. Many lodges will be empty. You come with me, we hunt buffalo, get drunk together! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Captain Nathan Brittles: No, friend, I must go. I go far away.

Chief Pony That Walks: Then, Nathan, my brother, go in peace.

(A la memoria de mi padre, un hombre de una pieza, según la mejor tradición de la caballería.

“Always subject to the requirements of the service”

Rest in Peace)