Nothing's Against The Rules.

Damn, no wonder no distribution agreement has ever been made for Kinji Fukasaku's Battle Royale in the US. I mean, the film released three days after 9/11 here in the UK, so you can just imagine what would have happened had it been going out about the same time in the States. Gregor Jordan's Buffalo Soldiers was knocked back a solid 18 months (after signing on September 10 if my memory serves me), so a film about a class full of fifteen year olds killing themselves? Acclaim or no acclaim, that was going to be a hard sell to audiences in the early noughties.

Based on Koushun Takami's novel, Battle Royale is quite full on. It is, quite literally, a film about a bunch of fifteen year olds killing each other. As editcted by the Millenium Educational Reform Act (also known as the Battle Royale Act), each year, a selected class of fifteen year olds is taken to a deserted island. There, they are given survival packs containing food and a randomly selected 'weapon' (ranging from guns and axes to saucepans and binoculars), they have explosive collars attached to them, and are set loose with three days to kill each other. The last person standing is the winner. If, after three days, there is more than one person still alive, then the collars are detonated, killing everyone.


Seriously, that is the premise of the film. And it's a disturbing one. However, within these circumstances Fukasaku sketches portraits of youth, anger, loyalty and friendship, and how deep this runs. Within minutes of being set loose these kids suddenly are thrust into the world of grown-ups, where kill or be killed (outside of Battle Royale, metaphorically more often than literally) is a daily game. And probably the most terrifying thing about the film is how readily these kids adapt, how prepared they are to enter into a game not of all-for-one, but of all-for-me. Really, it feels so much like an indictment on how kids are forced to deal with so much more so much earlier in life - and the fact that Fukasaku was inspired to approach the novel is drawn from his time as a munitions worker when he was fifteen during WWII makes you think that this is not an altogether new phenomenon. 


Through the violence is permeated a degree of humanity between some of the characters, including one of those who has chosen to take part or return. But these moments of hope are tempered by the butchery all around, to the point that one wonders whether Fukasaku really believes that this is how life works. The kids do terrifically in a not-particularly-stylised setting (unlike, say, the Kill Bill films, which revel in similar ultra-violence under cover of un-reality), matched by a terrific orchestral soundtrack comprised of both original and existing classical recordings.


It's hard core viewing. It's not particularly uplifting. But it is a very good film. It wears its anger on its sleeve, subtlety is not its strong point, but in its honesty it cuts deep. 4.5 stars.

You Must Be On Stage When The Curtain Falls.

I truly and honestly believe that Bruno Ganz's portrayal of Hitler in the 2004 German film Der Untergang is one of the greatest performances I've ever seen on screen. I also think that a lot of that comes from his (and director Oliver Hirshbiegel's) courage in showing Hitler not as a maniacal monster, inhuman and something akin to the devil, but rather as a real person. They humanised Hitler, but without letting you feel sympathetic towards what he did. Rather, you leave the film recognising that, yes, he and those around him were truly awful people who committed unspeakable atrocities and who should burn in the darkest recesses of hell forever, but they were just people who inspired such fervent following amongst their people through a steadfast and passionate belief in what they were doing. That their beliefs were disgusting is irrelevant here - they were willing to die for what they stood for, and that allows comparisons to be drawn to any story where a protagonist might follow his heart and beliefs against the grain of society.

Please do realise that I am in no way trying to condone everything that Nazi Germany is responsible for. But I do think that demonising the perpetrators to a point where they lose any semblance of actually being 'ordinary' people is counterproductive to any attempts to sway people from similar beliefs. In the same way that extraordinary actions can see mere mortals lifted to the level of demi-god or near-deity, serious and prolonged damning can achieve the same thing in reverse. Rather than lifting them to the status of saints you are dropping them the world of Satan's right hand men, but you are still lifting them onto a pedestal of sorts from where it becomes feasible to worship them in much the same way if you are of the crazed persuasion that lends itself in that direction.


Der Untergang (Downfall) is the story of the last days of Hitler in his bunker in Berlin as the Allied and Soviet forces decimate his own armies and get closer and closer to bringing about the inevitable collapse of the Third Reich. Hitler and his cohorts Goebbels, Himmler et al, with families, troops, employees and cohorts, are locked in their underground home as bombs fall outside and their world comes crumbling down around them. But they hold strong to their beliefs, despite the looming deaths of almost all remaining soldiers and civilians - Hitler's stance is that they are better off dead than living in a world where he is not ruler. They occupants try to hold strong to the life they were living, keeping up appearances and obeying the Führer, even as his orders become more and more ridiculous and his grasp on the calamity fast arriving seems slippery. He is ordering battalions that do not exist or exist only in very reduced form to advance or encircle or march on a front that they can never reach. His advisers and generals live in fear of him, knowing that it is suicide for them all but unable to convince him calmly otherwise, therefore getting on with his lunatic orders for fear that they will be accused of treason and summarily executed.


As the day of defeat becomes apparent, many of the inhabitants seek refuge in suicide, with some going so far as to see that their children are also removed from the equation - something that may almost be more humane than the memory that their parents were named Goebbels and they sang for the biggest mass murderer in memory. Grueling days and trying nights end in history happening exactly as we remember (unlike the revisionist retelling from Tarantino with Inglourious Basterds), with the burning bodies of the leaders of the regime and a surrender resulting in a forty-odd year of Berlin division.

Ganz is truly phenomenal. He doesn't let up, not for a second. His afflictions and weaknesses are there on show even as he parades his power and screams for more. His supports complement him, though nothing can ever match the furious force of the marauding Hitler.


Hirschbiegel somehow manages to make the film itself feel calm as everything happens within it, limiting any serious flourishes to allow the atrocious behaviour of the Nazis and the glory of the performance to cut right through the coldly beautiful cinematography of Rainer Klausmann. Der Untergang ends as a terrifying document of terrible ideas executed so well for so long before thankfully falling in a sad and deadly heap. It is a tremendously powerful film, one that is not easily forgotten.


I remember seeing it in cinemas with my mother. She didn't really like it, though she could appreciate the technical elements. While she was not alive in WWII, both of her parents served in some capacity within it - her mother remaining in Australia and I believe working in telegraphs as the Japanese threat on Sydney became very apparent, while her father served in Africa, Asia and (I think...) a little in Europe. She said it all felt a bit close, and that the way the story was told (ie with Hitler as a person rather than a monster) made it very hard for her to watch. And I can understand that, for those close, it would be a very difficult film. But for those of us that weren't close, it is an important film, precisely to remind us that he was a person, because with all that is now written about the man and the regime, he is becoming more like folklore and myth and less like the person who once lived next door. 


5 stars.

This Is This. This Ain't Something Else. This Is This.

Crikey (good morning, Australia!), talk about taking a tumble. How do you go from a five time Oscar winning film to what was derided as an enormous flop that pretty much brought down a studio? I don't know, but the answer probably lies somewhere within Michael Cimino's brain.

Don't worry, I'm not going to talk about Heaven's Gate, his tragic opus - I haven't seen it, though there is a part of me that wants to. So I will eventually. But today we're here to talk about The Deer Hunter, his masterpiece, as it were. I must say, one of my favourite parts of watching films from, oh, probably about the 1960s to the 1980s is watching the opening credits to see where the stars of today appear. Like Dennis Hopper popping us as 'thug' or whatever it was in Rebel Without A Cause. Or here in The Deer Hunter, where Meryl Streep is listed after John Cazale and John Savage (who?) in the opening credits, after the title. Well, I guess this was only her first Oscar nomination out of the 235128475134 she has received, and only for Supporting, so... 

Robert De Niro takes the lead in this Vietnam War drama, playing Michael, leader of sorts among his friends. These friends include Stan (Cazale), Steven (Savage) and Nick (Christopher Walken.) They're a small town group of friends, steel workers preparing for Steven's marriage, their heading off to the war, and the hunting trip they're embarking on that evening. Shortly the boys find themselves in the midst of the brutal war, held captive, dropped in rivers, mentally and physically tortured - everything you have heard about the war. In fact, I'm sure it's nothing compared to what you have heard, but it's vicious nonetheless. Steven loses both of his legs and ends up in a military hospital back in the US, barely coping and keeping away from his wife; Nick goes mental and remains in Saigon, playing Russian Roulette for money, which he sends to Steven in hospital; Michael is the only one who seems relatively unscathed, though the trauma of what has happened to his friends and his promise not to leave Vietnam without Nick haunt him into returning, where he finds Nick seriously deranged, wracked with guilt and a complete sense of loss brought about by his conviction that he was the only one of his friends to survive. 

It's a long and haunting film, with much of it set in and after the Vietnam war, which doesn't make for easy viewing. The performances are uniformly terrific. De Niro holds his cards close to his chest but plays them at the perfect moment. Walken especially is incredibly haunting, his happy-go-lucky fun-filled character turning so severely to something so remote and removed so very convincingly. He deserved his Oscar for this film. Streep, as Nick's girlfriend kept completely in the dark as to what has happened to him, is terrific in an early role, quite small, torn between her love for her fiancee and the comfort of Michael's arms.

The script, by Deric Washburn with a bunch of others on story duty, is studied and measured, perfectly paced and pitched along the way. Cimino gives the film plenty of room to breath, allowing for a harrowing journey through the psychology of the characters and an insight into the devastating effects of war on those it spits out at the other end. A fairly typical score from Stanley Myers is worked into brilliant sound design to work your emotions in a standard but effective way. It all combines to a solid three hours of hard-going but worthwhile cinema. 5 stars.

War Is A Drug.

Glad I got Borat out of the way, now I can move onto something I really liked.



I'd heard nothing, absolutely nothing about The Hurt Locker on its initial theatrical release. Not a word. Then it started popping up at In Contention as an awards contender. Then the US critics awards started coming through, and it was every.where. Literally. LA, NYC, NBR, dozens of other wins and nominations. Everywhere. Three Golden Globe nods. Truly. If critics awards meant anything to Oscar (which they don't - re: The Dark Knight) then The Hurt Locker would be the one to beat. It's definitely a lock in the 10 film Best Picture category (and would also be in the old five film system) but I think Avatar is looking to be the whirlwind at the moment. Precious is gone.

Anyway, this isn't an Oscar entry. This is all about The Hurt Locker.

Kathryn Bigelow is an interesting director, in that she is a female director making, for all intents and purposes, male films. War movies. Action pictures. Surfing films. I can't think of another woman like her. But, what I love about women directors, and what comes through in The Hurt Locker, is that she isn't a man. She doesn't follow that testosterone-only format. Within the brutality and staunch masculinity of war (and remember, this is her portrayal here. Yes, a man wrote the film, but she is showing an army of men - it may not be 100% accurate to reality, there are females on the frontline, but that's what is on our screens) there is a gentleness and masculinity that most male directors don't care to explore. The guys are out there on their own day after day shooting at people and witnessing death and destruction - they're going to get fucked up by it somehow. If they don't, well, they were fucked up to begin with. Male directors have a tendency to clog it up with emotion during limited episodes within the broader film (Saving Private Ryan) or just put in bigger and better explosions to mask emotion or provide for an outlet for revenge (I don't have to feel bad anymore because look at how big that explosion is! We got them good!) What Bigelow does is much more subtle. Without once ever compromising the military masculinity of her characters, she allows them their moments of weakness. Without needing them to burst into tears and cry for their mothers, she lets us look inside and see that, beneath the bravado, they are afraid. And this is what makes this film so damn powerful.

Staff Sergeant William James (Jeremy Renner) is a bomb technician, sent into Irag to join a division who have recently lost their leader (played briefly but brilliant by Guy Pearce). James is all gung-ho and live for the moment, outwardly afraid of nothing, seemingly invincible - or incredibly lucky. Coming across a huge bomb in the back of a car, he takes off his protective suit (which has been shown to do nothing at much further distances anyway), saying if he's going to die, he's going to be comfortable. At the beginning, this doesn't sit well with Sergeant JT Sanborn (Anthony Mackie), who is below him in the unit. Sanborn wants to get out alive, and he wants everyone he is with to get out alive, and James' reckless behaviour from the moment he joins the unit imperils that. Sanborn is counting down the days until he gets to go home - James is counting up the bombs he has disposed of.

Their relationship (which is the core of the film) changes, however, and quickly, as the film goes on. Sanborn discovers a box under James' bed, filled with bits and pieces of bomb equipment - this is the 'hurt locker' of the title. James is collecting bits and pieces of bombs. The locker is full of things that could have killed him. And then, when the unit stumbles across an undercover unit in the desert (lead by Ralph Fiennes) they are forced to fight for their lives under a hot sun, exposed, wounded and scared. James proves himself a damn good leader, a compassionate soldier, extremely good under the pressure dealt to them. The delicacy of collecting bomb parts and the simplicity of passing juice boxes under the hot desert sun combine with so many other nods and nuances to create this extremely well rounded character, played to absolute perfection by the hitherto little-known Renner.

Supports are excellent, primarily from Mackie, his second in the last three films I have watched (with Half Nelson the other day.) It's never made as simple as Sanborn hating James - Sanborn has to follow James as his superior, and respects James for his obvious talents and bravery. And Mackie has to deliver these conflicting emotions under the cover of respect for command, not stepping out of line, and not going too far when hair is allowed to be let down. It is, again, the little flashes, the moments, that are pitch-perfect and, in a split second, tell you so much. Here's hoping people start to sit up and realise that he holds his own against the formidable lead performance.

As for the rest of it, it's all pretty much perfect. I can't think of a thing to fault. The cinematography by Barry Ackroyd (who's responsible for a hell of a lot of Ken Loach work) is sublime. It's not showy, it doesn't do anything it doesn't need to do, but when it does show you something it shows you everything you need to now. Like the performances, it is subtle, but the flashes are instants of immediate clarity. And the script, well, after all else that has been said if you need me to praise the script you need your head read. Mark Boal has done extraordinary things here to create a tight script without any real sense of artifice or superfluity. Score? Check. Editing? Double-check. Design? Check check check. All of it terrific.

Really, why don't films like this come along more often? And when they do come along, why don't they create more of a wave? It's the second film relating to war (though this one is directly about war, rather than the impacts at home) after Stop-Loss that I have liked and has been directed by a woman. Maybe this is what is missing here. More women talking about war.

5 stars. Excellent. Very highly recommended. The more I think about it, the more I'm liking it.

You Can’t Fight In The War Room.

Dr Strangelove, or: how I learnt to stop worrying and love the bomb is one of my favourite Kubrick films. There are a few I still haven’t seen (shame on me), and I do enjoy them all - other favs would include A Clockwork Orange, Full Metal Jacket and, yes, Eyes Wide Shut, but if I’m in the mood for something thought provoking but not as confrontational or psychologically disturbing as the other titles mentioned, Strangelove is it.

The film takes place during the Cold War. Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) goes a little cray-cray over the idea of the communists attempting to take over the world using the flouridation of water and instructs a bunch of bombers holding at fail-safe positions just outside of Russian radar cover to drop their atomic loads on their targets, of which they are all no more than two hours away. The idea of how he manages to pull this off is quite complex (considering the President (Peter Sellers) quite rightly mentions that he believed he was the only person with the authority to push the button on nuclear warfare) so I won’t go into it here, but he manages it and it is exceedingly difficult to recall them, especially when Ripper has cut himself off from all outside communication and instructed the men on the base to shoot to kill all who come within 200 yards.

Captain Mandrake (Sellers again), on loan from Britain’s Royal Air Force, provides a comical foil to Ripper’s character, and is ultimately responsible for the recoil of most of the planes - most of them. But it is within the War Room at the Pentagon that most of the narrative takes place, and provides for the majority of the comedy in this very dark film. Through the Russian Ambassador and phone calls to the Russian Premier (which are wildly entertaining - anyone who has seen the film will always remember the initial ‘Hello Dimitri’ conversation and subsequent ‘I’m as sorry as you are, Dimitri!’ interaction) the discovery of the Doomsday Machine (due to be announced on Monday) is found. The Doomsday Machine is automatically triggered upon the detonation of a nuclear weapon on Russian soil, and results in a mammoth amount of nuclear weaponry being unleashed, resulting in fallout that will render the earth’s surface unlivable for about a century.

Peter Sellers earns most of the laughs playing three roles: the President, Mandrake and the eponymous Dr Strangelove, a German advising the US on such things as the Doomsday Machine. His three performances are very funny, and perfectly rendered. And while the film itself is very funny, it is in equal parts quite disturbing. Particularly at the time, I imagine (1963), when the Cold War was in full swing and the threat of nuclear war was keeping people up at night, the possibility of something similar to the Doomsday Machine and the fact that it could be set off by a renegade officer with the right codes and a grudge must have hit very close to home.

It does, however, have a new relevance now, with increasing nuclear powers in such states as North Korea and Iran. Indeed, the invasion of Iraq being, in policy at least to begin with, about weapons of mass destruction, the film brings these same feelings up in the minds of the modern viewers. With the ‘civilised’ Western world holding a massive amount of nuclear arsenal in case of these nations developing their own, you do end up with a stand-off - if you use yours, we’ll use ours. No sane mind could really want to unleash nuclear war, but with diplomatic relations souring and sanctions imposed, do people really have that much to lose? Like all good wars (where religion plays a part), your own immediate safety is mitigated by the belief that you’re going to win. Unlike previous wars, we’re dealing with weapons capable of not only wiping out hundreds of thousands of people in an instant, but causing such environmental devastation as to truly destroy the world.

By housing this in a comedy, Kubrick has done exceptionally well, providing an in-point for everyone watching. The closing images of exploding nuclear warheads are almost beautiful, especially with the accompanying soundtrack - something that in itself is terrifying. (And is it just me, or do others think that the mushroom clouds of exploding atomic bombs is really aesthetically pleasing? I don’t like thinking it, but they’re kind of pretty, if you ignore their explicitly deadly nature, no?)

It’s probably the scariest comedy I’ve ever seen, and made scarier by the comedy. This is a serious issue, people! We shouldn’t be laughing about it! But when you’re not laughing, in a situation such as this, all that is left is to cry, and that’s not going to get us anywhere, is it?

5 stars. Sellers’ incarnations are sublime, the rest of the casting is spot on, and with lines like it has you just can’t go wrong.

Where Am I Again?

This Is England is a very personal film, from what I have read. Writer/director Shane Meadows has stated much of what occurs is autobiographical, but you don't need to know this to feel it coming off the screen. The way he plays in flashbacks of news footage of the Falklands War (conflict, whatever) just feels personal. He obviously has a strong tie to the subject matter, like his young subject, Shaun (Thomas Turgoose.)

Shaun is a kid (literally - 12 years old) who lost his father in the War in question. Picked on at school but with a bully's spirit he joins up with some self-styled skinhead punk teenagers who take him under their wing and show him a good time. Whilst they're destructive, these kids (led by Woody (Joe Gilgun)) are pretty nice people. Their destruction is limited to abandoned homes and messing around with each other, and their life-view is to chill out, have fun, smoke some weed and drink some.

When the much-older Combo (Stephen Graham) returns from a few years in prison, where he apparently took the fall for Woody for a crime that never comes to light, the dynamic of the group completely shifts. Combo is a strident nationalist (something that resonates quite strongly with the current rise of the BNP here in Britain) who takes the younger skinhead's mischief to violent and threatening extremes. Shaun chooses staying with Combo rather than Woody and becomes involved in the racism and tragedy it brings. Woody, meanwhile, tries to continue without involvement. In the end, after a nasty confrontation between Combo and one of the original members of the pre-Combo gang, Shaun discovers in himself what England really means to him.

It is a powerful story. Turgoose is extraordinary, carrying the film. Not a bad feat for someone so young. All of the supporting cast is similarly in tune to the requirements of their characters and the mood of the film. Nothing in the film is frivolous: it's all necessary and all treated as such. Meadows (who had been making successful features for a decade before This Is England hit) deftly guides all of the younger performers through the minefields of possible over-performance and lets the older ones let loose with all of the gusto they can manage. He massages the themes of childhood, adolescence and the social and political fallout of wars such as the Falklands (playing out again now in the Middle East) into a moving and powerful narrative with economic expertise.

This Is England is a great film that has grown in my esteem over the two days since I actually watched it. I came out of it impressed but a little nonplussed, but the 48 hours in between have embedded it further in my mind. 4.5 stars, and I'll be looking for some more Meadows flicks to bolster my list.

Stop-Loss

The term 'stop-loss' in the American military refers to fine print a serviceman's (or servicewoman's) contract allowing for them to be recalled past their discharge date, involuntarily, should they be required by the military. It is this clause, and the repercussions on three Iraq war veterans (Iraq War the Second, Jr's war, not Snr's) and one girlfriend that form the titular premise of this film.

There's something about war movies directed by women. Not that there are many. Or, really, any. The shamefully unseen by me The Hurt Locker is really the only other one I can come up with off the top of my head, and that is, by all accounts, exceptional.

Kimberley Peirce's film (her first since her Oscar-winning debut, 1999's Boys Don't Cry) doesn't really tackle war, however. There are scenes in Iraq, both battle scenes (which are very accomplished) and behind-the-scenes scenes (wow, that's an awkward phrase) of the boys playing around, sending letters home, all that jazz. And they all look great. The primary thrust of the film, however, is dealing with this stop-loss notion.

The cast is fairly exceptional. Ryan Phillippe plays the Staff Sergeant who is stop-lossed (stop-lost?), Brandon King, with Channing Tatum (the weakest link, I think) playing his best friend Sergeant Steve Shriver. My future husband and the incredible Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays Private Tommy Burgess, and our dear friend Abbie Cornish plays Shriver's girlfriend Michelle - King and Michelle have known each other pretty much their entire lives.

All three servicemen are on leave and partying hard. Shriver freaks and starts digging bunkers in his front yard when drunk, Burgess gets kicked out by his new wife... the only one who seems to have it together is King. They go out to the ranch, they shoot things up. King is meant to be being discharged, but when he goes to sign it all out he is told to report back later that month. He disobeys the direct order (yelling 'with all due respect, fuck the president', something I'm sure we all wanted to say back in 2007) and is arrested, only to escape and go on the run, with Michelle agreeing to drive him out of Texas.

What follows are attempts to bring him back, explorations of what options he has (there are none, apparently), and tragedy striking. The notion that you can sign up to serve for a certain number of years, do your time amid the horrors and trauma of war, want to get out and then be called back against your will is terrifying, and the cast pull it off for the most part. Ryan Phillippe has been proving himself to have chops of late, and after my Bright Star review regarding Abbie Cornish, this is probably my favourite role of hers so far - I believed her entirely. Joseph Gordon-Levitt can do absolutely no wrong in my eyes, but I don't think anyone would say his performance was anything but grand. Channing Tatum, though, can't hold his own against this cast with so much talent behind them. He's not terrible, but you do notice that he is weaker.

Peirce explores this injustice with anger. It shows that this law pisses her off. She doesn't like it, and she's wearing that quite apparently on her sleeve, and maybe that's why the film wasn't particularly successful. I think it's a terrible clause, and i think more people should know about it, and I congratulate her for taking up this cause. Iraq films haven't been working in the States commercially anyway, so you may as well ram your point home.

I'm glad I finally watched Stop-Loss. I've been meaning to for a while, and missed it last year at the Sydney Film Festival where it played in their inaugural competition. It's a bold piece of filmmaking, and here's hoping that Peirce doesn't have to wait the better part of another decade to let us know what's pissing her off now. 4 stars.

I Don't Need This Shit! I Am Reality!

Platoon is probably the best war movie I've seen yet. Oliver Stone's incredible break-out success as a director (he had previously won a screenplay Oscar for Midnight Express, but this was his big directing success - according to Box Office Mojo it took over US$130mil from a US$6mil budget...back in 1986) netted him a directing Oscar and the film a Best Picture statue, amongst six other nominations.

Stone, himself a Vietnam vet, wrote this powerful story centring on the beginnings of a year-long tour by Chris (Charlie Sheen), though the incredible standouts came from Willem Dafoe and Tom Berenger as Sergeants Elias and Barnes respectively. Their relationship was heated, confrontational and deadly in many ways, exacerbated by the horrible nature of the Vietnam War and their equivalent rankings. Their completely different takes on right and wrong, and the influence they had on the men in their command, affects the viewer's morality in unnerving and uncomfortable ways. We'd all like to be the compassionate liberal portrayed by Dafoe, but a part of you understands the trauma and torment running through the veins of Berenger's Barnes. And they completely nailed their performances.

Sheen's Chris, however, left me wanting. I've never been a Charlie Sheen fan, in anything (though I've never seen Two And A Half Men, so maybe all the awards mean something), and I'm not a fan here. It might just be a personal dislike, but his actions and motivations fail to ring true throughout the film. His character develops, on paper, but I don't see him going through the journey - I see him saying the words, and pulling the faces, but I don't believe it.

Nothing, however, can take away from Stone's masterful and harrowing direction, not even Sheen's sub-par contribution. Some monumentally iconic and memorable shots, scenes and words pummel you from the screen. A few points had me audibly gasping. The score fell together perfectly (and while the repeated use of Barber's Adagio For Strings did start to grate through the film, it did become a warm blanket by the end), all of the other performances were fantastic (brief yet incredible turns from Johnny Depp, Kevin Dillon and Forest Whitaker being particular highlights), stunning scenery captured perfectly - it all blended to make a war movie that felt powerful and triumphant whilst simultaneously deriding the war and the politics at hand. I think that only a veteran of the war could truly undermine it in such a way whilst holding the soldiers who fought in it up as such heroes. The film is telling us that, like it or not, war happens. And in war, shit happens. And some of that shit is really, really bad. Some of the things people do are really, really bad. But, for the most part (though not all), respect must be given to those who fight them because when you're out there you just don't have a choice.

Platoon has a new relevance now, with much of the Western world embroiled in a couple of sagas that seem to be heading down the same route as Vietnam (when can we stop with the rhetoric and just admit that Afghanistan and Iraq are unmitigated disasters?) The film looks at the futility of going in against an enemy (who are, for all intents and purposes, unjudged in the film - they are treated as the enemy, but in much the same way as I imagine the Na'vi will be treated in Avatar. There is inherent racism, but it is also a one-sided look at the war) who know the lay of the land so much better, who are much more knowledgeable about the jungle and what it holds, and who are willing to risk everything to hold on to what they have. And doesn't that sound like something going on right now?

4.5 stars for Platoon. That the film overcomes the weakness of the lead to the extent that it only loses half a star is testament to the combined power of the other elements.