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This is my rifle; this
is my gun; this is for fighting and this is:
The
Best 45 Minute Movies Ever Made:
Full Metal Jacket
By
Andy Vetromile
Like so many of the movies on this list,
this film’s strength lies in its first half.
Stanley Kubrick’s observations about the
horrors of human conflict (this bloody
commentary on the Vietnam War predates
Spielberg’s remarkable Saving Private Ryan
by a decade and a half) begins in the
seemingly much tamer world of marine boot
camp.
A varied cast of
men from many walks of life find themselves
being sculpted for combat by the
in-your-face Gunnery Sergeant Hartman,
played with delicious zeal by character
actor R. Lee Ermey. Ermey’s deathless
performance shouldn’t be surprising, given
that he’s a former drill sergeant in real
life. It shouldn’t be, but it appears to
have caught the Academy unawares: Ermey
wasn’t even nominated for supporting actor
(though he did score a Golden Globe and a
BSFC Award – nice to see someone’s paying
attention). This is not to take anything
away from those who were nominated, not
least Sean Connery’s turn as Jim Malone –I
was rooting for him, too – but you have to
look at it from Ermey’s position. (And no, I
don’t know how Ermey feels about the whole
thing…he and I haven’t talked in, gosh…ever.
More’s the pity.) Here he is, in his
element, essentially playing himself, and
the Academy tells him “Hey, R. Lee…can I
call you ‘R.’? Great. Listen, R., great job
with the Hartman role, but I’m afraid your
performance was just a little too
reminiscent of the zeitgeist of popular
treatments of current trends to really be
Oscar-calibre. That, and you remind me of my
gym coach, and we still have issues to work
out there. We’re giving your spot on the
roster to Morgan Freeman, playing a street
pimp. Now there’s a man playing within his
genre.” (Taken that way, one has to wonder
how Morgan Freeman might view the situation.
And no, I don’t know how Freeman feels about
the whole thing…he and I haven’t talked in,
gosh…ever. More’s the pity.)
One of Hollywood’s
best-kept secrets, Ermey doesn’t receive
nearly as many roles or as much screen time
as he deserves (and the man has made a lot
of films – even if you know who he is, you’d
be surprised to realize he’s been in that,
too, oh, and that other thing). One may take
comfort in knowing that when someone in
Hollywood looks up from their double
cappacino-latte long enough to green-light
one of his roles, it’s usually spot-on. Few
people can boast playing as many roles that
were, when you think about it, meant for
them. His appearance as a former military
man (former in the sense of being dead) in
Peter Jackson’s delightful The Frighteners,
his vocal talents as Colonel Hapablap on The
Simpsons and the little green army man
Sergeant in the Toy Story films, and his
all-too-brief appearance as the senior
County in the also-too-brief The Adventures
of Brisco County, Jr. (that they removed
that from the schedule in favor of
M.A.N.T.I.S. is a rant for another day)
shows that he knows how to pick ‘em (or how
to get picked…I don’t know the motivations
behind all these castings, since the
Hollywood elite and I haven’t spoken in,
gosh…ever).
I had a point
before I started gazing dreamily at
headshots of R. Lee Ermey. Something about
movies…Kubrick…the ‘nam…ah, yes, Hartman
slapping the stew out of Matthew Modine, an
impulse anyone who’s seen Bye Bye, Love
finds themselves nodding in somber agreement
with. Any illusions that it will be easier
to eat your popcorn during this segment are
quickly laid to rest. The violence here is
understated when compared to the last half,
but it’s the very subtle nature of the
conflicts that make it so hard to watch. As
the incompetent Private Leonard “Pyle”
Lawrence (Vincent D’Onofrio) earns the
scathing disdain of first his drill sergeant
and then his platoon (or squad, or…jeeze,
somebody ought to fact-check these things),
the camp takes on a nightmarish quality. The
abuse heaped upon the members of the team
is, by turns, humourous and horrifying.
Every indignity suffered by the men is a
gut-punch for the audience even at their
remove, but each is accompanied by Ermey’s
corrosive lashings as he belittles them and
breaks them down into clay he can mold.
Ermey’s running commentary concerning his
charges over the film’s first 10 minutes
alone is funnier than 90% of the drek that
passes as comedy in today’s entertainment
industry.
By comparison, the
last two reels are all disappointment. I
won’t dare to say that the film doesn’t
accomplish its goals, or isn’t presented in
exactly the way it was intended, but after
that terrific start it’s hard to care when
the gears shift and the action switches to
the hardships of Vietnam. Towering
performances by Modine and Ermey established
an emotional bond between filmmaker and
filmgoer, and those ties are severed pretty
quickly. All in context, but we have little
reason to care about the fates of the
soldiers to whom we’re introduced here. The
violence escalates, and it’s clear no one in
this conflict is safe. The bloodshed
actually becomes boring once the numbness
sets in. People die faster and harder than
B-list actors at Jessica Fletcher’s high
school reunion, and without the fanfare and
flashbacks. Again, probably the very
substance of what Kubrick wanted his
audience to come away with, but you’re
distracted from weighty social issues when
all you can think is, “Crissakes, is anybody
gonna make it out of this film alive?”, a
concern that isn’t limited to the people on
the screen.
Making good films
depends in large part on the ingredients
with which one has to work, and R. Lee Ermey
is a great start (and a great finish, and…).
But even within one meal, not all courses
are equal (as Iron Chef proves), so start
with the appetizer, include the salad, and
make sure you have the soup. But when the
main course shows up, tell them you’re
already full. Then spend the rest of the
evening eating popcorn in front of the
remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Ermey’s the sheriff, and I’m pretty sure a
few people survive that film.
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Review: Full Metal
Jacket (c) 2006 - Andy Vetromile |
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