Forrest Gump (1994) Review

Official trailer

A man sits at a bus stop in Savannah with a box of chocolates and tells his life to whoever is sitting there. He was in Vietnam, met three presidents, started a shrimp company, ran across America twice, and has been in love with the same woman since childhood.

The 6 is for a film whose craft isn’t in dispute and whose argument is. Hanks is superb, the compositing was new, the structure is clean, and the film’s position on the period it covers is the thing nobody has stopped discussing since 1994.

What makes it worth careful treatment is that the standard objection is partly right and is usually stated badly.

Where I land is somewhere between the people who adore this film and the people who roll their eyes at it. I admire Hanks without reservation, I think the effects work still looks great, and I can’t warm to what the story does with Jenny. Whenever the film asks me to feel good, I notice who had to pay for it.

Winston Groom’s novel is also considerably stranger and less sentimental, with Forrest as an astronaut, a wrestler and a chess player, and the adaptation removed the absurdity and kept the passivity, which is where the film’s politics came from and is a clean demonstration of how an adaptation can invert the meaning of a source by subtraction alone, without needing to add a single new idea.

Groom also received none of the profit participation he believed he was owed and said so publicly for years. That’s a footnote about accounting instead of about craft and belongs in the record anyway.

Hanks

He won his second consecutive Best Actor for it and the performance is the film’s least contested element.

What he does is refuse sentiment. Forrest isn’t knowing, isn’t secretly wise, and doesn’t deliver his lines with any awareness that they’re deep. That’s the decision the whole film depends on.

The tone is specific and consistent. A slight delay before answering, a literal reading of every question, an absence of irony, and a physical stillness that makes the running sequences land when they arrive.

The running sequences are also built on that tone. He’s asked why he’s running, has no answer, and the film lets a national phenomenon form around a man who’s simply not stopping. That’s the picture’s one funny idea.

The best scene is the graveside monologue to Jenny, the one time the film lets him be articulate. Hanks plays it as a man who has been assembling those sentences for a long time and is finally somewhere he can say them. It’s the scene that moves me, and it’s a big part of why the film climbs as high as a 6.

Hanks was also the second actor to win consecutive Best Actor awards, after Spencer Tracy, and the second win is the one people question. The first was Philadelphia.

The Technical Work

The archival compositing won Visual Effects and was a real advance. Hanks placed into footage of Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon, with dialogue constructed from lip reading and re-animation.

The other invisible work is more impressive. Gary Sinise’s legs were removed digitally across a large number of shots, which was new at that scale, and the feather sequence at the opening and close was a digital element in an era when that was difficult.

Sinise’s performance is also the film’s best after Hanks and is rarely discussed. Dan is furious about being alive, states it plainly, and the character’s recovery is the one arc in the film that’s earned instead of asserted. I’d trade a good half of Forrest’s adventures for more of Dan. He’s angry at the film’s whole philosophy, and every scene he’s in is better for it. What the effects are for is the film’s real argument. Forrest is inserted into the historical record repeatedly. That’s a formal statement that the period’s events happened to somebody who wasn’t paying attention.

Don Burgess shot it and the visual approach is warm and slightly golden throughout, including the Vietnam material. That’s the choice a great many people object to and is entirely deliberate. The Vietnam material is also the film’s most technically careful. The ambush sequence is staged with real confusion, Forrest doesn’t understand what’s happening, and the film declines to give the audience a tactical overview it withholds from him.

The Objection, Stated Properly

The standard complaint is that the film is conservative, and put that way it’s too vague to argue with.

The structure is this. Forrest is passive, obedient and incurious, and every good thing happens to him. Jenny is curious, political, seeks out the counterculture, and is punished with abuse, addiction and an early death. The film doesn’t state a moral and the structure delivers one.

Bubba is the other place the arrangement is visible. He has a plan, states it repeatedly, dies, and Forrest executes the plan and becomes wealthy, and the film presents the inheritance of somebody else’s idea as loyalty. That’s the objection and it’s a structural observation instead of a political one. Two characters, two dispositions, two outcomes, and the arrangement is legible to anybody watching regardless of what the film intended.

The defense is also real. Jenny’s fate is traceable to her father’s abuse and not to her politics, the film is explicit about that, and the punishment reading requires the viewer to connect things the film keeps separate. Both of those are true, and the structure still says what it says, because a reader receives an arrangement before they receive an explanation.

That’s where I come down too. I’ll accept every word of the defense and still come away feeling the film has sorted its people into the rewarded and the punished. That arrangement is the main reason the number stops at 6.

Robin Wright

Jenny is the film’s hardest part and Wright wasn’t nominated. That’s the most defensible complaint about the film’s awards result.

The character is required to be sympathetic, to make a series of self-destructive decisions the film doesn’t explain at the time, and to carry the abuse history almost entirely in physical performance.

The scene that establishes it is wordless. She takes Forrest to the house she grew up in, stands in front of it, and throws stones at it until she can’t, and the film doesn’t have anybody explain anything. That’s the moment I’d have given Wright the nomination for.

Her death is also handled without naming what she dies of. That was a 1994 decision. The film gestures at a virus, declines to say the word, and the omission is legible now in a way it wasn’t then. What the film doesn’t give her is a single scene of her own. Jenny appears when Forrest encounters her, disappears for years at a time, and her life happens offscreen. That’s the same structural fault Driving Miss Daisy has with Hoke. Sally Field is the other performance worth naming, and she was only about ten years older than Hanks when she played his mother. The part is a series of aphorisms and she delivers them as a woman who has decided that her son won’t be told he’s limited.

1994

Best Picture went to this. The other nominees were Pulp Fiction, The Shawshank Redemption, Quiz Show and Four Weddings and a Funeral. That’s one of the three strongest Best Picture fields in the Academy’s history and the winner is the least interesting film on the list. That’s the argument.

The mechanism isn’t mysterious. This film took around six hundred and eighty million dollars, was a cultural event, and is warm and reassuring about a period the audience had lived through. Pulp Fiction is formally radical and morally indifferent, and Shawshank hadn’t yet become what it became, having underperformed theatrically and found its audience on television afterward.

It also won six awards including Picture, Director, Actor, Adapted Screenplay, Editing and Visual Effects, which is a sweep instead of a split, and that’s unusual for an entry on this page. What’s worth stating is that the result has aged in one direction. Pulp Fiction’s influence is measurable in thirty years of film, Shawshank is consistently voted the most popular film ever made, and this one is now primarily a subject of argument.

My vote would have gone to Pulp Fiction, and I wouldn’t have minded Shawshank. Forrest Gump winning that year was the wrong call. The Academy picked the warm, reassuring film over the daring ones, and thirty years have sided with the daring ones.

Should you watch Forrest Gump?

Yes, with your eyes open. Hanks gives a great performance that never signals its own profundity, the compositing still works, and Wright throwing stones at her father’s house hits hard. What holds it at 6 is the structure, which delivers a moral the screenplay never wrote, and once I saw that arrangement I couldn’t stop seeing it.

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