Poetic Film Review: Munich (2005)

A relic of a bygone era, films of yesteryear's making,
Now alien and incomprehensible to contemporary taking.
A shift in taste and time, a world in constant change,
Leaves old Spielberg's Munich, a relic of a distant range.

The story of a mission, a quest for vengeance true,
A world of political winds, a tale for me and you.
Based on Jonas's book, a tale of Mossad's might,
A film of intrigue and violence, a gripping, darkened light.

Avner Kaufman, a hero, played by Bana's hand,
A task of retribution, a world of blood-stained sand.
The Black September attack, a tragedy of the past,
A Mossad operative's mission, to erase the enemy fast.

A team of assassins, a task of utmost importance,
To track and eliminate, with stealth and silent presence.
But as the mission unfolds, a moral weight is placed,
Avner's soul begins to question, the cycle of violence embraced.

Jonas's book adapted, a TV miniseries before,
But Spielberg's vision grand, a Hollywood score.
A political message hidden, a critique of Bush's reign,
A historical allegory, a war of terror's pain.

The parallels are clear, a world of conflict and strife,
Munich's massacre echoes, 9/11's tragic life.
Golda Meir and George W., leaders of a troubled land,
The Global War on Terror, a cycle of violence, hand in hand.

But a flawed film it remains, a script that falters and stumbles,
Tony Kushner's gay agenda, a subplot that numbles.
A world of male camaraderie, a female presence slight,
A tale of violence and blood, a celebration of male might.

The treatment of women, a negative portrayal,
Catalysts for conflict, or objects of desire's bait.
Golda Meir, a warmonger, a sociopath in command,
The female assassin, a temptation that leads to tragic demand.

The film's message muddled, a celebration of family values,
A sense of blissful ignorance, a world that's far from realities.
Spielberg's direction solid, but the script, a tragic flaw,
A tale of a bygone era, a relic of a distant law.

Munich, a thought-provoking film, but deeply flawed it stands,
A relic of a bygone era, a world of hands that can't grasp the sands.

(Note: The review in its original form can be read here.)

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