Apocalypse Now - 1979
Directed by Francis Ford Coppola
Written by John Milius, Francis Ford Coppola
& Michael Herr
Starring Martin Sheen, Marlon Brando
Robert Duvall, Dennis Hopper & Laurence Fishburne
Sitting back and reflecting on
Apocalypse Now, it's easy to discern it's overall message, which was basically that the Vietnam War, and more specifically it's conduct, had the feeling of insanity run amok. When main character Willard (Martin Sheen) finally tracks down Colonel Kurtz, the latter asks him, "Are my methods unsound?" Willard answers back "I don't see any method at all, sir." Great line - and one that could be transposed onto the conflict easily. Willard has been sent to assassinate Kurtz, who has gone rogue and now commands his own private army deep in the jungle - but we're constantly reminded of how Kurtz fits the war perfectly, and that the charges of murder brought against him at a time when many innocents were being murdered with impunity by others with official acceptance makes no sense. But nothing does in the world Francis Ford Coppola has constructed here, just as the war as a whole makes less and less sense the more distance we get from it and the more we look at it. Every scene in
Apocalypse Now punctuates that feeling of out of control lunacy.
Coppola's methods produce an early, and very striking scene. In it Martin Sheen reveals his character as a broken man, with his demons devouring him whole. Of course, his naked bloody disintegration was half-real, as most things are in this film. Sheen was pushed to the brink of death, at the center of a storm (at one point, a quite literal one) that turned the making of the movie into a story within itself. Willard now only longs for danger and fear - the only things that make him feel like he's actually still alive. Divorced and suffering, he yearns for his next mission - and though the generals (among them a young Harrison Ford) can definitely sense that he's not right, he's ordered to travel up the Nùng river, deep into Viet Cong territory, to terminate Kurtz. Helping him and his navy escort on the way is Robert Duvall's Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore - his particular insanity is treating the war as his own personal surfing holiday. He destroys an enemy village just to get an opportunity to surf with a young famous surfing compatriot amongst the group - providing the film with many of it's most memorable and famous scenes such as the attack being preceded by "Ride of the Valkyries".
The director may have thought at the time he was sinking in a meaningless quagmire, but he was capturing something visually that was exciting and felt quite genuine. It really doesn't matter if
all the helicopters he had at his disposal were in the same frame, and Sheen's insertion into scenes that had already been filmed are seamless. Looking at the film today, it's hard to believe he had such trepidation over what he was constructing - ad-hoc as it was. His greatest fear was for it's ending - as scripted by John Milius, it was artistically uninspiring - a kind of 'action film' ending that added nothing to the film. I felt the ending that we did eventually get let me down a little - but this is almost solely due to a maddening Marlon Brando almost sabotaging everything by arriving on set grossly overweight (it is so very hard to reconcile that with who Colonel Kurtz is meant to be) and happy to just mumble ad-libs when shooting commenced every day. Whatever quality does come from his lips actually come from the script - such as his wry observation that American planes can drop fire and burn people alive, but they can't write swearwords on the planes as the brass deem this to be "obscene".
Milius titled his screenplay "Apocalypse Now" in direct answer to what many kids going to college had written on their backpacks and headbands - "Nirvana Now" or "Enlightenment Now" - a reference that a spiritual awakening was possible at the present moment if people would just experiment with drugs or will it into being. If the people in charge could put in motion (and continue to propel) the madness that was happening in Vietnam - then why not the ultimate madness? The question of why isn't always discussed in the film, but a wonderful illustration takes form as Willard progresses down the river, following the same path as that in
Hearts of Darkness, of which much of the film is based. Further and further from civilization, Willard appears to be travelling back in time, and he eventually (in the
Redux version) comes upon a group of French colonists who refuse to budge from "their" little patch of jungle. They won't leave - this is their home - but what are the Americans fighting for? "The biggest nothing in history," the head of the French family declares. Colonialism overtaken by a desire to destroy something - even themselves.
Along for the ride on Willard's boat is a young Laurence Fishburne (14 years-old - playing a 17 year-old) who has the irritating nature (to Willard) as that of a child - Tyrone 'Clean' Miller, Sam Bottoms as hippy surfer Lance, Frederic Forrest as 'Chef' and Albert Hall as Chief Phillips. Notable among the rest of the cast is Dennis Hopper, who is a photographer and convert to Colonel Kurtz's wild philosophical ramblings. They're all almost blotted out by a shimmering performance from Martin Sheen, who commands all of our attention (even when he's not onscreen, he narrates.) They're backed by some great music on the soundtrack - as is the film, which is introduced with fire as Jim Morrison sings and the Doors' "The End" plays (the band was horrified their music was used for this) in a famous opening segment. The score was worked on by the director and his father, Carmin Coppola. It seems to me that Francis Ford Coppola should have had faith in his editors and not worried - they were nominated for an Oscar. Lisa Fruchtman would go on and win one for her work on
The Right Stuff, Gerald B. Greenberg had won one for
The French Connection and Walter Murch waiting that bit longer for his win with
The English Patient. What they put together with
Apocalypse Now, considering the (seemingly) haphazard nature of what was shot is commendable.
Storied cinematographer Vittorio Storaro would go on to win an Oscar for his 'medal of honor'-worthy work on
Apocalypse Now - which was very much deserving. He would go on to win another 2 for
Reds and
The Last Emperor. Working mostly in Italy these days, he still ventures forth to capture films such as Woody Allen's
Café Society. Coppola's shooting schedule was prolonged and prolonged as the film hit problem after problem - and shooting in the jungle in the Philippines was something akin to war itself, so Storaro may still view this as his most challenging experience in filmmaking. The pressure though, fell on the director whose angst may have been fed by the media's interest in the film's overbudget and lengthy shoot - and his nightmares over an artistic and commercial failure. However, while the film was still a work in progress, it won the Palme d'Or (along with
The Tin Drum) at Cannes and since it's release has grown in respect and admiration. There is absolutely no sense at all of failure when you watch the film, and it flows in a perfect manner that seems very deliberate and masterful. It's hard to see anything of the chaos and disaster (that included a typhoon which destroyed initial sets) that plagued it's production.
It was fear of failure that led to much of what was shot being cut from the film - and this wasn't a bad thing at all. Although increased confidence in the stature of his film has led Coppola to gradually reintroduce much of this footage, almost all of it adds little new to what the film is saying - except perhaps for the French colonialist section, which enhances some aspects. You won't learn much about the Vietnam war itself by watching
Apocalypse Now - it has a more general feel of the war's conduct than it's history - and it does really represent more the adaptation of
Hearts of Darkness in a narrative and metaphorical sense. Through the mind of Willard (and his well-scripted narration) we learn what any sensible person would, not only about the war (and war itself) but also the primeval need to be a master of one's own destiny - something war explicitly precludes. Through the film's script we learn everything we need to know about Kurtz well before we meet him - and from the man itself nothing except that he is lost within himself. He now leads a primitive tribe - one preoccupied with death - and has become the very essence of the war, which those conducting the war from above find very ironically "obscene' - just like a swearword painted on the side of a death-dealing jet plane.
I can't say with any precision what we're taught about the dark inner working of man's soul, except that it is indeed so dark you'd have to be mad to want to go there. Once there, reason seems to be in short supply. Much to my relief,
Apocalypse Now is a fairly unpretentious yet serious look at young people who must go to that place. It's a film I appreciate more and more as time goes by - and if it weren't for Marlon Brando it would be almost flawless. Vittorio Storaro, Martin Sheen and director Francis Ford Coppola are who I credit for delivering this to us - to a slightly lesser extent scriptwriter John Milius (Coppola rewrote some, Michael Herr the narration and some is taken from Joseph Conrad's
Hearts of Darkness.) Underneath it all, the people whose land these jungles and rivers really belong to - and the people who do almost all of the dying in the end, in service to colonialism, adventurism and blood-lust. Their bodies and heads litter the ground that Willard and Kurtz walk upon - and their blood turning these men's hearts, minds and souls the darkest shade of night.