It’s easy to find movies that receive undue admiration at the time of their release. Look no further than the recent Best Picture win of CODA. But such errant acclaim typically flames out within a few years. It doesn’t usually extend for decades.
For Forrest Gump (1994), though, it has. Having recently subjected myself to the unpleasantness of re-watching it, I can only point out its stark defects, speculate on why it remains so well liked, and perhaps forecast when it might finally go away.
The artistic interest of Forrest Gump is supposed to be the ironic contrast between Forrest’s simplistic narration and the more complex version of events presented onscreen. But this irony falls flat, because Forrest is so limited that his interpretation of events is essentially irrelevant. In other words, by setting up this irony, the movie is cheating: seen from Forrest’s viewpoint, anything will be ironic. His mind is such a low bar that anything he tries to understand will seem relatively complex.
The question, then, is whether the events seen outside Forrest’s perspective carry any significance—and the answer is, very obviously, no. It’s true that the historical events Forrest witnesses are worthy of examination, which is why they’ve all been the subjects of numerous pictures. But Forrest Gump adds exactly nothing to this body of historical cinema.
One sequence, for instance, depicts the Vietnam War. Many other films have done so, attempting such varied approaches as elegy (The Deer Hunter), satire (Full Metal Jacket), psychological exploration (Apocalypse Now), and stoic realism (Platoon). Forrest Gump, by contrast, attempts nothing. The sequence’s visual content has the semblance of depth when compared to Forrest’s narration, but compared to any of the other films I listed, it’s visionless and reductive.
The film reaches perniciousness, as opposed to mere badness, in its second half. At this stage, director Robert Zemeckis’s intention becomes clear: to promote Forrest as an American ideal—a savior for our wayward times. To this aim, Forrest’s lack of understanding is cast as not a limitation but as the only authentic response to the catastrophes he witnesses. For example, when shoved onstage at an antiwar rally, Forrest’s mic cuts off so that no one can hear his speech. The crowd erupts, and Abbie Hoffman exclaims: “You said it all, man! You said it all!”
The message here is that for a horror like the Vietnam War, there really is “nothing to say”; therefore, Forrest’s lack of audible response is more profound than any words. This view is wrongheaded and troubling. In fact, the many citizens who have written and spoken about the government’s errors during this period have done the country a great service, since understanding those mistakes may help us avoid them in the future. Words are, contrary to this scene’s takeaway, powerful and necessary, even (or especially) in the face of disaster. Forrest’s effective silence may be the best he can do, but it’s not good enough for the rest of us.
I may be late in making this point, since Wikipedia asserts that Forrest Gump has recently been subject to a negative “reevaluation” on account of its perceived “conservative politics.” I disagree, however, that the film is especially conservative, except in the sense of not being overtly liberal. Rather, it’s merely anti-intellectual, wary of thinking. The best course of action, the film argues again and again, shouldn’t require thought: life is simple, if only we’d stop overcomplicating things. We should all be more like Forrest, who never agonizes, never second-guesses, never regrets.
But are Forrest’s actions above second-guessing? He might not be capable of it, but we are. For instance, to protect Jenny, Forrest repeatedly interferes in her affairs despite her pleas for him to desist. Is this truly the good and noble thing to do? And he rescues a crippled Lieutenant Dan from the battlefield despite his explicit demands to be left to die. Is this moral? The film would have it be so on both counts: later, Jenny apologizes for being “messed up,” while Lieutenant Dan gets rich, finds a fiancée, gets prosthetic legs, and thanks Forrest for saving him.
Convenient—but not convincing. Unfortunately, the right thing to do isn’t always easy to discern, despite what Forrest Gump would have you believe. The corollary, of course, is that those who lack the ability to weigh complicated factors often unintentionally choose wrong.
So be it. Because in refusing to acknowledge this truth, the movie becomes, despite its intentions, patronizing to those with mental handicaps. The marginalization of the intellectually disabled is countered with the portrayal of perfection, rather than the portrayal of humanity. The comedy Tropic Thunder (2008) would later underscore this with some of the most devastating movie-to-movie satire I’ve ever seen: in one notorious dialogue, an acclaimed actor admonishes his peer by emphasizing that, to win an Oscar, one should “never go full retard”—instead, for viewers’ comfort, it’s best to portray a mentally disabled individual as having inexplicable talents. Forrest Gump is referenced specifically.
In 2007, Forrest Gump was rated by the American Film Institute as the 76th greatest American movie of all time. Based on this ranking, it may indeed be the most overrated movie ever made. But I suppose, based on the Wikipedia paragraph I referenced above, a negative reappraisal is already in progress. Even though that appears to be due to a contemporary demand for social consciousness rather than a recognition of the film’s central, insurmountable flaws, I’ll take it. There are few movies I despise more.
–Jim Andersen
For more movie commentary see my pick for the worst movie of the decade.