NYT : The Price of War, Front and Center

The Price of War, Front and Center

By BILL CARTER | September 6, 2007

In the HBO documentary “Alive Day Memories” Dawn Halfaker, 27, a former Army first lieutenant, is sitting in a chair on a stark stage, talking, somewhat incongruously, to James Gandolfini, the star of “The Sopranos.”

Mr. Gandolfini serves as the interviewer in the film, set to have its premiere Sunday night at 10:30. It deals with the recovery of American veterans from devastating injuries inflicted during the war in Iraq.

Ms. Halfaker, whose right arm and shoulder are gone, blasted away by a rocket-propelled grenade, says she has wondered whether her child, if she ever has one, will be able truly to love her. And then a look of intense emotion clouds her face. Ms. Halfaker’s eyes flutter, seemingly looking at some image far, far away. Finally, after a long pause, Mr. Gandolfini asks quietly, “What were you just thinking about?”

And Ms. Halfaker tells him: “The reality of, will I be able to raise a kid? I won’t be able to pick up my son or daughter with two arms.”

Mr. Gandolfini manages to maintain his composure through that and nine other interviews with disabled veterans. As he put it in a telephone interview: “What the heck do I know? I never had the experiences these kids had. How much do they even want to remember?”

For the most part the ex-soldiers in the film — the title refers to the day they sustained, and survived, their injuries — are willing to share memories of what happened to them and to talk about their lives. Three of them — Ms. Halfaker; Jacob Schick, 24, an ex-corporal in the Marines; and John Jones, 29, a former Marine staff sergeant — said in telephone interviews that they had concluded the documentary would provide a valuable service. “I just thought it was important to get my story out,” said Mr. Schick, whose leg was amputated above the knee. “I want the American people to see this is what it’s like.”

Ms. Halfaker said: “When I first got injured, I wouldn’t talk as much. I didn’t want to acknowledge the reality of it. But then I saw the value of bringing some awareness of the things that are going on in Iraq. I think it was a little bit therapeutic.”

On the face of it Mr. Gandolfini makes for an unlikely questioner, as he acknowledged. But his fame, and the familiarity of his character, Tony Soprano, put the soldiers at ease. Mr. Gandolfini was “really respectful with us,” Mr. Schick said. “He didn’t want the cameras on him.”

Mr. Gandolfini is barely seen in the film and only occasionally heard. He insisted on that, Sheila Nevins, the president of HBO’s documentary division, said. “He played a tough guy on TV, but Jim knows these are the real tough guys,” she said.

The film sprang from a visit Ms. Nevins and Mr. Gandolfini made to Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington. “He wandered the halls,” Ms. Nevins said. “Everyone knew him. They’d show him their Purple Hearts. I could see him internalizing the whole experience.”

At the time HBO was coming up to the premiere of the documentary “Baghdad E.R.,” which chronicled the extraordinary efforts of military medical personnel and the lives they were saving. The film was at first widely praised in the military. But just before a screening in Washington the Pentagon refused to allow military personnel to appear at the HBO event. Ms. Nevins said she concluded that the Pentagon had decided it was an antiwar film.

She has no hesitation in declaring herself personally opposed to the war, but she argued that “Baghdad E.R.” presented military doctors heroically. And in the visit to Walter Reed, Ms. Nevins saw a follow-up: a look at some of the lives those doctors saved.

She said all was set for production until military officials stepped in, two weeks before shooting was to start, and made Walter Reed off limits to the filmmakers. “There was no explanation why,” Ms. Nevins said.

Of course she suspected similar fears of an antiwar message. And they were not entirely unwarranted. But Ms. Nevins said she was personally overwhelmed by what she saw and heard from the veterans. “I didn’t really understand patriotism until we made this film,” she said.

After losing access to Walter Reed, Ms. Nevins said, “I got to thinking about how we had the operating theater in the first film. And here we heard all about the theater of operations. And Jim was kind of an Off Broadway guy.”

Ms. Nevins put all the theater references together and wound up renting a small downtown performance space in Manhattan, creating an understated theatrical look for the interviews: a stage, a minimal set of just a couple of chairs, a few lights.

Mr. Gandolfini “didn’t pretend to be a journalist,” Ms. Nevins said. “But in that moment where Dawn talks about not being able to hold a child, he just waited, like a good actor in a great scene.”

The soldiers quickly found a comfort level with Mr. Gandolfini. Mr. Jones, who has two prosthetic legs and feet, had reason to be home with Mr. Gandolfini, for his lieutenant would project DVDs of “The Sopranos” on a bathroom wall when stationed in Iraq.

“We began to base ourselves off Tony Soprano and all his gang,” he said. “We’d talk about the godfather” — his commanding officer — “and the lieutenant would tell us to go out and put a hit on a guy.”

Mr. Gandolfini said he wanted to do something for the injured vets: “I think these guys are so ignored.” Not that the experience has made him feel especially good about his contribution. “If somebody gets hurt, and you take them to the hospital, should you feel good about it?”

The film includes video shot by insurgents, of whom Mr. Gandolfini said: “You hear them saying prayers after they blow up a jeep. It makes you want to pick up a gun and kill somebody.”

The soldiers themselves express a range of feelings, from anger to emotional distress. They all acknowledge living with constant pain, physical as well as psychological. One subject, Dexter Pitts, 22, a former Army private, suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder.

“It’s day to day,” Mr. Jones said. “You’re emotional. You have mood swings. I’ll get up in the morning, and it’s O.K., and come home really ticked off. You fight depression.” But he manages to get on ice skates with two prosthetic legs and skate around Bryant Park in Manhattan with his two young children.

Mr. Schick said: “I’m a Christian guy. I try to deal with it as best as I know how. Some days you think: Man, what could I have done differently? At the same time I believe there’s a reason for this. God’s not done with me yet.”

One reason, he said, was to win this battle. “I’ve got the rest of my life to beat my enemy,” Mr. Schick said. “Every day I just have to get out of my bed, and I beat him.”