Witness

Released 1985. Director: Peter Weir

IN THE EARLY 1980s, HARRISON FORD was so celebrated as Han Solo and Indiana Jones that casting him as anyone else, let alone a regular guy in a modest movie with no special effects or swashbuckling adventures, seemed like a risky move. Yet Australian director Peter Weir took on the challenge with Witness, a mid-budget production rejected by major studios including 20^th Century Fox, Warner Bros. and MGM before Paramount showed some interest. In turn, Ford's performance nabbed him his first and only Academy Award nomination for Best Actor.

Ford gave what many considered the best performance of his career but he wasn't the only or even the main reason for Witness being a modern classic. Watching the movie again more than 40 years since its release it's abundantly clear why Witness has stood the test of time and remains textbook reference for filmmaking.

While it's common for movies to have braided narratives and criss-crossing edits (mostly for stylistic reasons), the Witness narrative (scripted by William Kelley and Earl W. Wallace, with uncredited contribution from Weir) is sharp and linear, absolutely captivating while seamlessly integrating the disparate elements. Weir's direction is understated and artful, often letting the visuals tell the story. The central performances from Ford and Kelly McGillis, though anchored in different foundations, give their characters a believable arc. John Seale's cinematography balances the harsh and gritty city vibes with the warm, homespun modesty of a spartan community.

Ford's character is named John Book, a detective investigating the grisly murder at a Philadelphia train station. Soon after he learns from the sole witness – a young Amish boy named Samuel – that the perpetrator was a cop, he becomes a target himself as the corruption involves higher-ups at the police department. John survives an attempt on his life as he rushes to bring Samuel and his mother Rachel back to their community in Pennsylvania for safety. Too weak to carry on, the detective is now a guest among people who have largely kept to themselves since the early 18^th century, being taken care of as he slowly recovers from a gunshot wound while the enemies bide their time.

Witness is perhaps the only mainstream movie to make Amish culture an integral component of its story. We learn that they're a tight community of rural families who live by strict religious rules in an ascetic lifestyle without mod-cons and have almost no contact outside their seclusion. Their lives are bound by traditions and impervious to change. When they ride their horse-drawn buggies into a nearby town for essentials, the Amish are viewed as some kind of oddity and reduced to objects of curiosity. Dressed in clothing that resemble European peasants in classical paintings, the Amish people are exploited as tourist attractions.

Weir incorporates their way of life in one of the movie's best scenes. The Amish spirit of mutual-cooperation is celebrated when the entire community come together for a day of barn-raising. The men build the barn while the women cook a communal meal to feed young and old alike, as a wedding gift to a new couple. As a side note of interest, it's easy to spot Viggo Mortensen as a silent extra among the construction crew in a few scenes.

John Book, sufficiently recovered by this point, participates in the labour and experiences a way of life that prioritises the collective over the individual. Weir not only uses the obvious clash of values and beliefs to draw a difference between the violent and pacifist nature of the two cultures, the outsider's intrusion into an isolated tranquility brought Witness seamlessly from one genre to another without you realising it. John learns to live like an Amish man. He gets up before sunrise to milk cows. He uses basic tools for wood-working (Ford must've felt at home, being a carpenter before he became an actor) and to blend in, he puts on the clothes of Rachel's dead husband. Before we knew it, the budding romance between this wounded outsider and the fetching widow overshadows the danger of concealing a city man with dangerous enemies.

It's easy for audiences to warm to the mutual attraction of this unlikely couple. Rachel finds herself drawn to this selfless refugee who protects her son, as John falls for this nurturing woman from an old world. What John and Rachel share is not a clichéd romance because it's drawn with subtlety and grace. The script and direction never conjure implausible scenarios just to throw a man and a woman together. Ford and McGillis let glances and expressions do the heavy lifting.

Another great scene is the dance in a barn illuminated by a pair of headlights when John managed to get his car going and the radio plays "Wonderful World" as Sam Cooke sings “Don't know much history, don't know much biology...” A bit of seduction, a lot of restraint, a bit of thrill and promise, all of it forbidden. You'd instantly recall this classic scene if you've seen this movie before.

The crime thriller part of Witness returns when the bad guys locate our hero and arrive with rifles on the ready. Ford steps into the action mode without missing a beat and the set-up of the hide-and-seek showdown generates suspense and drama with due care to pacing and editing.

When it's all done, Witness has no happy ending. John and Rachel made their feelings known but he must leave, and she must stay, each returning to his and her own world. Violence brought them together, but reality dictates their mutual affection a fleeting prospect.

Rarely has there been a movie that braids gunshot action with tender romance to this poignant effect. Neither a crime flick about justice and revenge with a picturesque rural backdrop, nor a heart-breaking unrequited Valentine-Day special but a delicate, subtle balance between the two, Witness achieves a symmetrical elegance that remains unrivalled.

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