Everybody is buzzing about the film "American Sniper."
The Clint Eastwood-directed film about Navy SEAL Chris Kyle hauled in more than $100 million when it opened nationally last weekend, shattering industry expectations and befuddling some film critics who think the movie over-glamorizes war.
The film is based on the life and death of America's most lethal sniper, who became a legend in military circles with 160 credited kills during four tours of duty in the Iraq War. "Sniper" is doing especially well in the heartland states. The New York Times reported last week that the "patriotic, pro-family" picture packed theaters in "Tennessee, Texas and Oklahoma," on its way to enjoying one of the biggest January launches in motion picture history.
Mark Kennedy"Sniper" has also earned six Academy Awards nominations, including a nod to actor Bradley Cooper, who delivers a compelling rendering of the humble Texas war hero who survived Iraq but later, back home, died at the hands of a troubled Marine veteran he was trying to help.
Something profound is going on here.
My wife and I went to see the R-rated film last Sunday night with friends at the Majestic 12 in downtown Chattanooga. The room at our 7:25 p.m. showing was nearly full, even though it was up against the NFL playoffs on television.
Note to parents considering taking children or young teens to this motion picture: The film is rated R for a reason. Our 13-year-old son, who has read Kyle's autobiography "American Sniper," the book which inspired the movie, desperately wanted to go with us. We said no, and we're glad we did. It's not the bullets or the cursing, so much -- although there are plenty of both. It's just that children suffer in the movie in ways that would be impossible for an impressionable kid to un-see.
My sister, who saw the film the night before we did in a packed theater in Nashville, tipped us to expect an interesting twist at the end of the film.
Sure enough, it happened here, too.
For lack of a better term, I'll call it a spontaneous moment of silence. Not the usual few seconds of quiet reflection while the credits roll at the end of an emotionally intense film, mind you, but the kind of self-aware silence you observe when you file out of a funeral, when even a loud whisper would seem ill-mannered.
The audience at our showing of "American Sniper" gathered their jackets and exited the theater in reverential silence. Even in the restroom afterward there was barely any buzz.
In the days since last Sunday, I've asked others who've seen the film if their audience reacted the same way. A friend at work said he saw the film the night it opened in Connecticut and the same silent-exit thing happened there, too. I've also read reports from film critics that crowds are reacting similarly across the country.
I have a theory about what's going on here. "American Sniper" is literally rendering people dumbstruck. Writers often use the word "dumbstruck" as hyperbole for surprise. In this instance, audiences are actually being shocked into silence, a testament to the power of the film -- or, perhaps more correctly, the power of Kyle's story as he comes to terms with the war and reconnects with his wife and children.
In America, most of us who don't have friends or family in war zones have blithely gone about our lives for a decade, barely aware of the deep sacrifices made by our armed forces and their long-suffering families. Sometimes it takes the filmmakers' craft to bring a war home. For millions of Americans, this movie has put a face on the Iraq war and, in the process, rendered us, well, speechless.
Kyle wrote in his book: "I've lived the literal meaning of the 'land of the free' and the 'home of the brave.' It's not corny for me. I feel it in my heart."
For a brief silent moment at the end of a Hollywood film, Americans everywhere are standing as one this winter and sharing a warrior's heartbeat. It has suddenly occurred to us that, while most of us were back here tweeting and twerking, our armed forces were risking their lives in the service of liberty.
Assuming every "American Sniper" audience contains a proportional number of veterans, please -- all of you -- take this silence at the end of the movie as a nation's awkward, belated way of saying: "Thank you for your service."
Contact Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6645. Follow him on Twitter @TFPCOLUMNIST. Subscribe to his Facebook updates at www.facebook.com/mkennedycolumnist.