The Longest Day

June 6th marks the 80th anniversary of D-Day. A while back The Colonial Theatre showed a trailer for the 1962 movie The Longest Day, which gives a detailed account of what went on during the Allied invasion of Normandy. I'd never heard of, nor seen the film, but the preview alone had me welling up. I decided that I needed to see it and so today I took myself to Phoenixville. The Longest Day was sponsored by a retired Major in the US Army, Maj. Paul Hartmann, and instead of showing ads for local businesses while we wait, they showed photos that the Major took when he and his wife visited Normandy on a vacation in France. He spoke a little before the film and the waterworks kicked off as soon as he read the name of one of the soldiers that was from Lancaster, PA and died on D-Day. Major Hartmann read his name and mentioned that he was married just five days before he was killed. The Major's hands started to shake the paper he was holding and I always find it endearing when military men display compassion and vulnerability. I was crying off and on through the film, just thinking how fucking senseless and stupid war is and of how terrifying it had to be for those that pulled themselves together and fought to save lives and countries from true, true evil. When the French head honcho told his troops that they would be forced to fire on their homeland in order to drive out the enemy I was reaching for my tissues yet again. The cast was littered with famous men but Jeffrey Hunter was the standout for me. Toward the end when John Wayne came across the bodies of the paratroopers whose chutes got hung up in the town, in trees and off buildings, and were stranded and then shot to death, the look on his face was devastating. They looked like they'd been lynched and the anger in his voice as he demanded they be cut down immediately was extremely moving. It was a beautifully made film.