by Paul Costello
Experiment 626 (which may, or may not be Stitch's real name) is an event embarked upon by the I'm With Geek Film Team. Film knowledge was unearthed, truths were found and a DVD exchange took place. These are the true life stories from that experiment...
To Paul from Melissa
I chose this film because it is quite a powerful and personal film about the Vietnam War, and is the first in a trilogy of films about the Vietnam War, directed by Oliver Stone. From the list of your favourite movies, it seems like a good fit, but something you may not have seen (I hope!), as you seem to enjoy movies focusing on variations of war and horror. Platoon is quite a hard-hitting film, and features some stellar performances from Berenger, Dafoe and Sheen, and because of its nature, I thought it would be an appropriate choice for you to watch. Stone is particularly skilled in displaying his personal accounts of war into his work, and I feel as if you would appreciate this ‘personal’ touch to the film, from your favourite movies list, provided you haven’t seen it before!
Experiment 626 (which may, or may not be Stitch's real name) is an event embarked upon by the I'm With Geek Film Team. Film knowledge was unearthed, truths were found and a DVD exchange took place. These are the true life stories from that experiment...
To Paul from Melissa
I chose this film because it is quite a powerful and personal film about the Vietnam War, and is the first in a trilogy of films about the Vietnam War, directed by Oliver Stone. From the list of your favourite movies, it seems like a good fit, but something you may not have seen (I hope!), as you seem to enjoy movies focusing on variations of war and horror. Platoon is quite a hard-hitting film, and features some stellar performances from Berenger, Dafoe and Sheen, and because of its nature, I thought it would be an appropriate choice for you to watch. Stone is particularly skilled in displaying his personal accounts of war into his work, and I feel as if you would appreciate this ‘personal’ touch to the film, from your favourite movies list, provided you haven’t seen it before!
“Sure, I’ve been to the ‘Nam before… more than once. Hell, I’ve climbed Hamburger Hill, crossed The Thin Red Line and headed on into Tigerland... I've watched the Apocalypse Now, loaded up with a Full Metal Jacket and seen the Casualties of War as I was Coming Home… and I’ve been part of the Platoon. So, yeah, I’ve been to the ‘Nam before. And then I get the letter telling me I gotta go back… for 626, I gotta go back to the jungle… shit.”
The Vietnam War was, to say the very least, a complicated affair. To branch that understatement out a little bit, it was a sprawling mess, spattered with the mud and blood of dirty politics, hazy justifications, public outcry and widespread criticism the likes of which had never been seen before… and, above all, it was death. In the convoluted morass that was the Vietnam War, where opinions and arguments run as long as there is air to be breathed, the one indisputable fact of it is that, like all wars before and all wars after, there was death. Real, terrible, undeniable death. Now, owing to the dense and thorny nature of the conflict, the Vietnam War has seen itself depicted on the silver screen many times. For its wealth of material, its emotive possibilities, its complex motivations, Vietnam was damn near made for Hollywood. It’s been attacked and defended, interpreted and dismantled, and it still remains one of the most discussed events pieces of history in American cinema. Why were they fighting? Who were the enemy? What was it like on the ground level of that basin of warfare?
The Vietnam War was, to say the very least, a complicated affair. To branch that understatement out a little bit, it was a sprawling mess, spattered with the mud and blood of dirty politics, hazy justifications, public outcry and widespread criticism the likes of which had never been seen before… and, above all, it was death. In the convoluted morass that was the Vietnam War, where opinions and arguments run as long as there is air to be breathed, the one indisputable fact of it is that, like all wars before and all wars after, there was death. Real, terrible, undeniable death. Now, owing to the dense and thorny nature of the conflict, the Vietnam War has seen itself depicted on the silver screen many times. For its wealth of material, its emotive possibilities, its complex motivations, Vietnam was damn near made for Hollywood. It’s been attacked and defended, interpreted and dismantled, and it still remains one of the most discussed events pieces of history in American cinema. Why were they fighting? Who were the enemy? What was it like on the ground level of that basin of warfare?
To attempt an answer at least that last question, enter Oliver Stone: writer, director, and former infantryman for the US Armed Forces. In 1967, Stone enlisted in the army, specifically requesting to serve in the then current conflict in Vietnam. Lasting a little over a year, Stone returned home a decorated soldier and a wounded man, both literally and metaphorically. A few years later, he graduated from NYU with a degree in film and something to say. Once he entered the industry, he quickly developed an image as a fierce commentator, an angry voice, the kind of anger meant to change things. He found great success as a writer (he penned Midnight Express and Scarface, the former of which won him his first Oscar), but still something else was inside him that needed to get out. As it turns out, that something was Platoon.
Told from the perspective of Chris Taylor (played by Charlie Sheen), a new recruit freshly landed in Vietnam, it follows the hard moral crisis faced by the young private when he is confronted with the horrors of war and the polarising duality of man, and dragged to the brink of his mental, physical and spiritual collapse. Platoon sets itself very early on with a Bible quote (Ecclesiastes 11:9 - “Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth…”) as a kind of cinematic requiem, a lament for that very youth that was not so much lost as stolen, cruelly ripped from the men sent to fight, kill and die in Vietnam. Ours is to walk through the valley of the shadow of death and watch the spirit of the young slowly erode in a maelstrom of violence and cruelty.
Told from the perspective of Chris Taylor (played by Charlie Sheen), a new recruit freshly landed in Vietnam, it follows the hard moral crisis faced by the young private when he is confronted with the horrors of war and the polarising duality of man, and dragged to the brink of his mental, physical and spiritual collapse. Platoon sets itself very early on with a Bible quote (Ecclesiastes 11:9 - “Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth…”) as a kind of cinematic requiem, a lament for that very youth that was not so much lost as stolen, cruelly ripped from the men sent to fight, kill and die in Vietnam. Ours is to walk through the valley of the shadow of death and watch the spirit of the young slowly erode in a maelstrom of violence and cruelty.
Taylor is to be our guide for this journey into the world of impending death and decay, his eyes to be our eyes, and the reality of his situation doesn’t hesitate to make itself known. The first image we see is Taylor and various other new recruits alighting the plane only to see the dead being brought off trucks, ready to be loaded onto that same plane. As Taylor et al continue to make their way towards their fate, already shocked by their first sighting, they are then passed by the lucky soldiers who have completed their own tours of duty, paid their dues in the jungle and are now heading home. The contrast shown is a harsh one, with the inexperienced newbies staring worriedly at what could be their possible futures: going home as one of the living, haggard and cackling at the newly arrived fresh meat; or going home in a bag... Welcome to the ‘Nam.
After this, Stone wastes no time in immersing us in the world that he himself walked almost two decades before. With Taylor and his company of men, we find ourselves lost in the jungle, a place that we will become very familiar with over the course of the film’s two-hour running time. With the help of Robert Richardson’s excellent cinematography, Stone captures a palpable sense of claustrophobia within the heady surroundings of the Vietnam jungle. The climate is humid, the air thick with heat and moisture, sweat running down the faces of the poor souls trudging through the leaves and mud. Just looking at the platoon, we see their faces writ with their pain, their exhaustion, sick with the heat and the parasites crawling all over them. With this kind of hardship, it’s no wonder that this would be the kind of place that would foster a severe crisis of spirit.
After this, Stone wastes no time in immersing us in the world that he himself walked almost two decades before. With Taylor and his company of men, we find ourselves lost in the jungle, a place that we will become very familiar with over the course of the film’s two-hour running time. With the help of Robert Richardson’s excellent cinematography, Stone captures a palpable sense of claustrophobia within the heady surroundings of the Vietnam jungle. The climate is humid, the air thick with heat and moisture, sweat running down the faces of the poor souls trudging through the leaves and mud. Just looking at the platoon, we see their faces writ with their pain, their exhaustion, sick with the heat and the parasites crawling all over them. With this kind of hardship, it’s no wonder that this would be the kind of place that would foster a severe crisis of spirit.
It’s within this crisis, with all of these souls wandering the jungle, that they come to want, or rather need something to help give them the strength to get through. This is where we are introduced to the two men who will come offer the ways of surviving this place: Sergeant Elias (played by Willem Dafoe) and Sergeant Barnes (played by Tom Berenger). Each man shares the same rank, effectively meaning they are equal in authority, but the manner in which they lead are diametric opposites, writ to make them the film’s representations of Good and Evil.
Elias is the most overtly signified, Platoon’s symbolic Christ figure. He is the kind, peace-loving one, who is amongst the first to help Taylor towards the beginning of his tour. When he finds that Taylor’s pack is too heavy, weighed down by books and other materials he’ll find little use for in the jungles of Vietnam, Elias says that he’ll carry these things for him, literally helping the young rookie share his burden. If it needed to be made clearer, the first time we see Elias onscreen, he is walking through the jungle, his gun slung across his shoulders, arms draped over the weapon in a direct conjuring of the image of Jesus carrying the cross. Add to this the references in the dialogue (O’Neill calls him Jesus Christ, Barnes calls him a “water-walker”), the intended metaphorical significance is clear.
Elias is the most overtly signified, Platoon’s symbolic Christ figure. He is the kind, peace-loving one, who is amongst the first to help Taylor towards the beginning of his tour. When he finds that Taylor’s pack is too heavy, weighed down by books and other materials he’ll find little use for in the jungles of Vietnam, Elias says that he’ll carry these things for him, literally helping the young rookie share his burden. If it needed to be made clearer, the first time we see Elias onscreen, he is walking through the jungle, his gun slung across his shoulders, arms draped over the weapon in a direct conjuring of the image of Jesus carrying the cross. Add to this the references in the dialogue (O’Neill calls him Jesus Christ, Barnes calls him a “water-walker”), the intended metaphorical significance is clear.
Perhaps less defined in terms of Biblical reference, but still easily signified is the character of Barnes. Everything about Barnes indicates someone cruel and unmerciful, from the fearsome visage of his severely scarred face to his cold eyes that only come to life in fits of rage. He’s a man who has probably been here too long, experienced too much, and has been unmistakably damaged by it. By his actions and his conduct, we can never really be sure just what he was before he came here, and we can only know him as he is now.
As already stated, these two men are opposites, shown in every way that they conduct themselves. In Elias’s company, there is warmth, joviality, music and pot. He even seems to exude something vaguely feminine in his caring demeanour. With Barnes, the mood is colder, more aggressive, more overtly masculine (notions of masculinity are tied to a willingness to fight and kill within these walls, so the more eager you are to kill, the more of a man you are). There also seems to be a racial line between the two camps, with most of the black soldiers aligning themselves with Elias, whereas only one black soldier stands with Barnes (despite the fact that one of Barnes’s other cohorts has a Southern Cross flag hanging on his wall, and that Barnes and co. will often fling homophobic and racist jokes and insults around). Even in the heat of battle, their tactics come from polar ends: Elias favours the more tactical approach, cutting down on the possibility of casualties; Barnes opts for direct brute force, a show of strength that risks more lives than necessary. And during a significant battle, the camera cuts between the two framed in opposition, facing each other, making it seem like the enemy they are about to face down is each other.
As already stated, these two men are opposites, shown in every way that they conduct themselves. In Elias’s company, there is warmth, joviality, music and pot. He even seems to exude something vaguely feminine in his caring demeanour. With Barnes, the mood is colder, more aggressive, more overtly masculine (notions of masculinity are tied to a willingness to fight and kill within these walls, so the more eager you are to kill, the more of a man you are). There also seems to be a racial line between the two camps, with most of the black soldiers aligning themselves with Elias, whereas only one black soldier stands with Barnes (despite the fact that one of Barnes’s other cohorts has a Southern Cross flag hanging on his wall, and that Barnes and co. will often fling homophobic and racist jokes and insults around). Even in the heat of battle, their tactics come from polar ends: Elias favours the more tactical approach, cutting down on the possibility of casualties; Barnes opts for direct brute force, a show of strength that risks more lives than necessary. And during a significant battle, the camera cuts between the two framed in opposition, facing each other, making it seem like the enemy they are about to face down is each other.
And it is between these two soldiers that the ultimate fates of their men will be decided and their souls won, but most especially, from an audience perspective at least, that of Chris Taylor. As much as Taylor is the audience’s conduit to the events of the film, he is also the filmic cipher for Stone’s own need to explore what he went through and how it changed him. Taylor himself is a good man, or at least tries to be, but pressure of his situation is sometimes just too much. Whilst he will do the right thing and stop a bunch of fellow soldiers from gang-raping two young Vietnamese girls after clearing out their village (an incident Stone claims to have actually happened), he will also snap and start shooting wildly at the ground around a one-legged Vietnamese villager because he won’t do what he’s told (likely as a result of fear and an inability to understand the language). Taylor is at constant odds with himself, struggling to do the right thing when it’s clear that the wrong thing is both more effective and, if he were to give himself over to the darkness completely, more fun. This situation in which Taylor finds himself (and Stone found himself) seems geared towards pushing him into darkness, begging him to commit atrocity, since many of those around him seem to be falling into the madness so easily. Stone rather simply sets the basic struggle between the two warring halves within himself, represented by Elias and Barnes, when a drunken Barnes is confronted by Taylor, and the sergeant explains how it all works. “I am reality,” he says. “There’s the way it ought to be, and there’s the way it is.” Barnes with all of his cruelty and madness, sets himself as reality, and thus the way it is. Reality here is cruel and unmerciful and so it might simply be easier to just go along with it. However, Barnes essentially says himself that the way it is is not the way it should be. If he is the way it is, then it must run that, as his established opposite, Elias is the way it ought to be. In this moment, Stone states his desire to be good, but acknowledges the difficulty in achieving that desire in a world so hideously torn apart.
Stone also tries to place the events of Platoon within the greater context of the legacy of American warfare. The perception of the US prior to the Vietnam War was that of the global military force, a nation that had come out on top of every conflict they had ever entered. This perception of the US as effectively unbeatable made the post-Vietnam period even more damaging to the country’s morale, as well as to those who served in the conflict. This notion that defeat was perhaps necessary for the sake of America’s sense of self-worth coming from military strength comes through in the brief exchange between Taylor and Elias:
Elias: What happened today was just the beginning. We’re gonna lose this war.
Taylor: Come on. You really think so? Us?
Elias: We been kicking other people’s asses for so long, I figured it’s time we got ours kicked.
It’s a hell of a stance to take regarding the nature of war and what it means to a nation that Stone would appear to be saying made its name and reputation as the ass-kickers of the world. Within this moment, he appears to suggest that the eventual loss of the Vietnam War should have been, if nothing else, a lesson in humility for the US.
Platoon is not a flawless picture, of course. Though it’s one of the most remembered aspects of the film, and does a fine job of both establishing his educated background and charting his internal struggles, Taylor’s voiceover often steps on the toes of what the film is perfectly capable of expressing without words. The pull he feels between the dual leadership of Sergeants Elias and Barnes is there onscreen, carried easily by the images and performances, with all the philosophical subtext intact. Even the emotional journey of a young man scarred by the brutality of what he sees in Vietnam is wrought incredibly well by Sheen, moving from the unsure rookie soldier to the fragmented and pretty much suicidal veteran. It’s not that the voiceover is without worth or merit, since we do get snatches of Taylor’s family life from these words home, but they just as often make what could perhaps have a greater impact on the viewer too explicit, changing subtext to plain text in the viewer’s mind and undercutting the subtle power it could hold otherwise.
Elias: What happened today was just the beginning. We’re gonna lose this war.
Taylor: Come on. You really think so? Us?
Elias: We been kicking other people’s asses for so long, I figured it’s time we got ours kicked.
It’s a hell of a stance to take regarding the nature of war and what it means to a nation that Stone would appear to be saying made its name and reputation as the ass-kickers of the world. Within this moment, he appears to suggest that the eventual loss of the Vietnam War should have been, if nothing else, a lesson in humility for the US.
Platoon is not a flawless picture, of course. Though it’s one of the most remembered aspects of the film, and does a fine job of both establishing his educated background and charting his internal struggles, Taylor’s voiceover often steps on the toes of what the film is perfectly capable of expressing without words. The pull he feels between the dual leadership of Sergeants Elias and Barnes is there onscreen, carried easily by the images and performances, with all the philosophical subtext intact. Even the emotional journey of a young man scarred by the brutality of what he sees in Vietnam is wrought incredibly well by Sheen, moving from the unsure rookie soldier to the fragmented and pretty much suicidal veteran. It’s not that the voiceover is without worth or merit, since we do get snatches of Taylor’s family life from these words home, but they just as often make what could perhaps have a greater impact on the viewer too explicit, changing subtext to plain text in the viewer’s mind and undercutting the subtle power it could hold otherwise.
Neither is the film particularly neutral in its political stance. As stated previously, Stone is a firebrand filmmaker who makes no real concessions to making impartial statements, and Platoon is spoken with that same voice. His seeming struggles with a degree of hero worship between the opposing characters of Elias and Barnes (both are, if nothing else, inarguably brave) would suggest that he is not without some degree of perspective, or at least self-awareness, with regard to the other side of the political debate. However, his casting of these characters as representations of Jesus and Satan, as well as his well known political activism outside of the film, clearly indicate where both he and the film are coming from. Stone was against the war, against what it did to so many, and sought to create what is effectively an anti-war film thinly veiled as a story of the realities of war seen through the eyes of those on the ground. If it is, as Tennyson would have it, usually the soldier’s lot not to reason why, but to do and die, this film would be Stone’s attempt of the soldier to survive his ordeal and subsequently to try and reason why. In that light, Stone’s apparent impartiality would seem far more understandable.
Platoon is a visceral and sorrowful telling of the ravages of war and what it does to those put on the line to fight, written with an erudite intelligence, yet directed with a fierce and gritty immediacy. The evocation of the hardship, the degradation, the abject misery of the infantry grunt is captured with incredible skill and craftsmanship, with the editing, camerawork and sound doing a great deal to place the viewer in the thick of it, as well as the Samuel Barber piece Adagio for Strings, which has taken on a massively iconic status as a result of Oliver Stone’s film. And the cast do a remarkable job of carrying the substantial burden of their roles, both literally and figuratively, throughout. Within the realms of its contemporaries’ depictions of the Vietnam War, Platoon may not quite capture the same post-war emptiness of The Deer Hunter, the systematic dismantling of humanity from Full Metal Jacket, or the sheer scale and magnitude of Apocalypse Now. However, Platoon does exactly what it set out to do, which was place the viewer right there in the ‘Nam, or as close to it as they’d really want.
Platoon is a visceral and sorrowful telling of the ravages of war and what it does to those put on the line to fight, written with an erudite intelligence, yet directed with a fierce and gritty immediacy. The evocation of the hardship, the degradation, the abject misery of the infantry grunt is captured with incredible skill and craftsmanship, with the editing, camerawork and sound doing a great deal to place the viewer in the thick of it, as well as the Samuel Barber piece Adagio for Strings, which has taken on a massively iconic status as a result of Oliver Stone’s film. And the cast do a remarkable job of carrying the substantial burden of their roles, both literally and figuratively, throughout. Within the realms of its contemporaries’ depictions of the Vietnam War, Platoon may not quite capture the same post-war emptiness of The Deer Hunter, the systematic dismantling of humanity from Full Metal Jacket, or the sheer scale and magnitude of Apocalypse Now. However, Platoon does exactly what it set out to do, which was place the viewer right there in the ‘Nam, or as close to it as they’d really want.
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