My Life at the Movies 12.30.08: 1987 - Full Metal Jacket

Posted by DC Perry on 12.30.2008

This is my column. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My column is my best friend. It is my life.

What a great year for movies 1987 was. Whittling it down to one for this year has been my most difficult decision by far. 1987 gave us Good Morning, Vietnam, Robocop, The Untouchables, and The Princess Bride. Each one could be number one for several other years by a mile, but they all come up short against Stanley Kubrick's Vietnam masterpiece Full Metal Jacket.



If only someone would provide some kind of perspective in the form of statistics about 1987 for easy perusal. Say!

1987 at a Glance

US President: Ronald Reagan
Median annual salary: $26,061
Gallon of gas: $0.95
Dozen eggs: $0.78
New house: $127,200
New car: $13,386
Movie ticket: $3.91
Boston Red Sox: 78-84, fifth place, American League East
Me: Discovering that reading the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy will win almost every sixth grade reading contest.


If Full Metal Jacket lasted only twenty minutes, it would be worth watching for Gunnery Sgt. Hartman's (R. Lee Ermey) stream of insults. If you want a collection of creative insults, study at the feet of the master.



The Vietnam War is going badly, and cannon fodder needs to be churned out as fast as possible. Leonard Lawrence (a hefty Vincent D'Onofrio) is not cut out for the military (in fact, he's barely cut out for pizza delivery), but he has a pulse, so he's going to get trained and shipped out. After some one-on-one time with Joker (Matthew Modine) and some public humiliation and beatings with pillowcases full of soap, Lawrence finds out he's pretty skilled with a rifle. Gunny Hartman chooses some unfortunate examples of expert marksmen to inspire the troops, and Lawrence is very inspired. He talks to his rifle. He stays up late taking it apart and putting it back together. Oh, and he puts a bullet in Gunny Hartman and the back of his own head.


Seven-six-two millimeter. Full. Metal. Jacket.

The saddest thing is, Lawrence would have fit in great in Vietnam. Joker has recovered nicely from the trauma of Lawrence's murder-suicide, and is haggling with 2 Live Crew's favorite hooker for some sucky sucky. He's a field correspondent for Stars and Stripes, a frustrated reporter writing for a propaganda rag. Joker is assigned to cover boot camp buddy Cowboy's (Arliss Howard) platoon during the Tet Offensive.


This isn't about freedom; this is a slaughter. If I'm gonna get my balls blown off for a word, my word is "poontang".

On patrol, the platoon's chain of command is picked off in rapid succession, leaving Cowboy in command. Mother Nature's natural night camo fails to protect Eightball (Dorian Harewood) as a sniper takes out his legs. Cowboy calls for tank support, which clearly isn't coming, so he plans a retreat since this is obviously an attempt to draw them into an ambush. The platoon, especially Animal Mother (Adam Baldwin), can't stand to watch Eightball getting riddled with bullets and wants to rescue him. He ignores Cowboy and charges into the ruined city with a machine gun blazing. The rest of the platoon follows, and they manage to put down the lone sniper, but not without losing yet another commanding officer. The sniper isn't dead, though, and Joker doesn't want to leave her wounded. Animal Mother is all for honoring her request for a mercy killing, but only if Joker does it himself. He hesitates, but finally Joker puts a bullet in her head.


I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.

I love it when the movie explains itself. Makes my job so much easier. Full Metal Jacket shows us the problem with handing weapons to people who want weapons. In order to train people to be unstoppable killing machines, you have to take a few precautions to ensure their loyalty. The boot camp indoctrination is straight out of The Red Badge of Courage – good soldiers don't think, they fight. Thinking leads to running. Good soldiers accept their role as a cog in the great war machine. Kubrick does Crane one better, though. Lawrence starts out as a grinning, overweight doofus, but ends up an obsessive murderous, suicidal lunatic. He doesn't prove himself in battle, but he uses his training well.


Son, all I've ever asked of my marines is that they obey my orders as they would the word of God. We are here to help the Vietnamese, because inside every gook there is an American trying to get out.

Kubrick does a masterful job of showing that the Vietnam War was a generational war. The commanders and the soldiers spoke completely different languages. Soldiers do what they are told because Uncle Sam wants it done, and by God, Uncle Sam is the opposite of godless, Communist heathens who do not love the Virgin Mary and do not sing Happy Birthday to Jesus on Christmas. It does not – it cannot – occur to the commanders that the war might be wrong, or that it might be handled wrong, or that half the soldiers are insane. This war is just like all the other just, perfect, righteous wars the United States has fought. The confessional footage shot by the documentary crew following Cowboy's platoon shows the soldiers as complex, sometimes psychotic, human beings.



This is the face of war. Gunny Hartman's beloved Corps ain't what he thinks it is, and his death at Lawrence's hands couldn't be more symbolic. Vietnam crumpled the crew cut, lantern jaw, superhero image of Soldier and replaced it with a at least two new stereotypes – the flawed, uncertain, terrified kid, or the mentally unbalanced sociopath. Full Metal Jacket is one of the latest comments on the Vietnam War, but the artistic distance allows for some amazing insights. To me, this makes it the best film of 1987.