Even though this article is partly a review of the new non-fiction film Jarhead, it is also an analysis of war films in general. Douthat begins his piece by mentioning that before going off to battle, Anthony Swoffard and the other protagonists of Jarhead relished in watching Apocalypse Now and Full Metal Jacket. He uses this scene as a springboard to his main idea that there is no such thing as an anti-war film.

            Douthat’s argument is certainly convincing. He claims that for all the anti-war messages woven into movies like Apocalypse Now, battles are still depicted as exhilarating and attractive. Even though Coppola’s film depicts the horrors of war with scenes of young Vietnamese dying, combat is still glorified in scenes such as the opening helicopter entrance. In Jarhead, the marines, singular in their vision, cheer and laugh as the choppers cut through the sky, raining fire on the wilderness below and strafing to avoid life-threatening attacks.

            No matter how much critical rhetoric is added to a film, casual movie-goers and those unable or unwilling to consider the movie more deeply simply enjoy the unbridled excitement that carnage tends to generate.

            Jarhead, like many recent war films, fails to achieve the balance between political commentary and high-throttle action that Apocalypse Now did. Douthat equates Jarhead to pornography, a fun, cheap thrill without any real substance. While Apocalypse Now might not be a strident anti-war film, its depth is unquestionable. Coppola manages to portray war as “terrifyingly beautiful,” capturing both the appealing and the disgusting. Jarhead, on the other hand, takes the easy, unsatisfying route, relying on picturesque scenery rather than delving into the complexities of war.

            In “Death of glory…,” Ian Garrick Mason discusses the epic film.  He claims that the last great era of epic film was the period between the 50s and 60s which saw the release of Ben Hur, Cleopatra, and El Cid.  According to Mason, public interest in grandiose movies with triumphant characters was rooted in America’s confidence during this time period.  World War II was won and the impending conflict with the Soviet Union painted the United States as a lone defender of freedom against a clearly portrayed evil.  Moreover, the introduction of Cinemascope in the early 1950s allowed these ostentatious tales to be appropriately depicted on the big screen.

            Even though the genre persisted after reaching its pinnacle during the 50s and 60s, the character of epics shifted.  Epics began to focus on the underground.  They celebrated the nefarious over the great. Two examples of this phenomenon can be found in Coppola’s canon: The Godfather and Apocalypse Now.  With high production values and an exotic locale, Apocalypse Now earns the title of epic.  Rather than celebrate the life and triumphs of one man, the film focuses on the downfall of Kurtz and the destruction the American military brings.  Even though it retains the spectacle of earlier epics, the underlying themes change dramatically.

            Mason claims that films like Apocalypse Now changed the genre permanently.  The film created a new type of epic that has been recreated up to the present in films like Goodfellas and Scarface.  Meanwhile, traditional-style celebratory epics like Troy and Alexander have proved to be commercial and critical disasters.  Coppola’s filmmaking changed epic filmmaking and the mindset of the film going public, making them more cynical and less receptive to laudatory, triumphant movies.

            In “Coppola, ‘Apocalypse Now,’ and the Ambivalent 70s,” Sterritt begins by talking about the new scenes added to Apocalypse Now Redux. His argument is that even though the added footage is judged by most as being extraneous and superficial, it actually makes Coppola’s filmmaking style stand out more than in the original. Sterritt’s claim is that Apocalypse Now, made in 1979, treads the delicate line between being a pro-war reaction to the peace movement of the 60s and being a critique of the war like the more conservative movies of the 80s, and that the recently added scenes helps make this balance more clear.

            Sterritt believes that Coppola’s ambivalence in this respect stemmed from the earlier success of The Godfather. While Coppola was certainly pleased with the commercial and critical success of that film, he saw the mass consumption of his movie as a missed opportunity to make a social impact. Therefore, in later works, such as The Conversation and Apocalypse Now, Coppola tried to include both overt and subtle cultural statements. At the same time he was attempting to make societal commentaries, Coppola was very much aware of the need to make a commercially successful film. His production company, American Zoetrope, was still far from stable and Coppola knew a movie too politically charged would not be well received by wide audiences.

            Coppola was able to achieve this fragile equilibrium with Apocalypse Now. There are enough standard Hollywood conventions and high-excitement action scenes to keep viewers enthralled, but at the same time the film carries a strong sociopolitical message.

Francis Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now, made in 1979, tells the tale of a rogue Green Beret during the Vietnam War and the measures Captain Willard (Sheen) takes to stop him. The film is heavily based on Conrad's Heart of Darkness.

Brian Goldstein 

            Matthew D’Ancona’s “Apocalypse Again” looks at Apocalypse Now not simply as a film about the Vietnam War, but a movie about war in general.  He looks at the work in a post 9/11 context, considering especially the recent war in Afghanistan.  Using Apocalypse Now as a starting point, the author mentions the distinction between justifying a war itself and validating the means used to win that war.  D’Ancona disputes the claim that Apocalypse Now is a harsh critique of war.  Instead, he references a comment made by Coppola in which the director declared that the movie “is not an anti-war film; it’s an anti-lies film.”

            D’Ancona builds on this statement, pointing out several factors that support Coppola’s declaration.  For one, he highlights the fact that John Milius, the screenwriter for the film, is an ardent conservative who has written scripts for a multitude of gung-ho action movies that seem to celebrate war.  In D’Ancona’s eyes, Apocalypse Now is a traditional adversary movie: Willard traverses through the jungle in an attempt to subdue his nemesis Kurtz.

            Again referring to Coppola’s comment, D’Ancona explains that the film is not against war itself, but rather condemns the misrepresentation of war by the government and media.  He declares Kurtz’s madness is a response to the reality of war, a reaction to learning the horrific truth that had been hidden from him.  Kurtz seeks out facts, urging Willard to think about the extent to which America would go to win the war.  Therefore, the culprit is not war itself, but rather the uncertainty and lies that surrounds it.

            In his article “Culture, US Imperialism, and Globalization,” John Carlos Rowe looks at the current trend of popular support for American aggression abroad and attempts to find its roots.  According to Rowe, Americans initially supported Bush’s plans for war because of the media’s cultural conditioning.

            Even though the media currently endorses “gunboat democracy,” Rowe argues that this policy was not always the standard.  For example, Apocalypse Now was a harsh critique of the war, equating American intervention in Vietnam to the British colonization of Africa.  While the film has action and suspense, the prevalent theme remains true to Conrad’s Heart of Darkness: the interference of westerners in a foreign land for their own gain is unjustified.  Along with films like The Deer Hunter and Coming Home, the film industry was judgmental about the Vietnam War.

            This tendency to criticize U.S. military actions, however, quickly ended.  A new crop of films like Sylvester Stallone’s Rambo glorified the American soldier and made a clear division between the good Americans and the nefarious foreigners.  Although Rowe argues that Rambo can also be interpreted as an anti-war movie, the fact remains that the film portrays the American soldier as a triumphant killing machine, single-handedly demolishing the Vietnamese and Russian armies.

            In the late 1986, war glorification was at its peak with the release of Top Gun.  The film launched a series of imitators all with the same underlying message that at least subconsciously encouraged viewers to support the Untied States military.  This constant barrage of pro-war art changed the cultural identity of the nation, making Americans more willing to support the country’s war efforts.

            In this article, Beck claims that during the 1970s, sound moved from a secondary aspect of filmmaking to a primary concern of directors. Coppola in particular is attributed with beginning the practice of paying particular attention to the film’s soundtrack. His 1974 work The Conversation not only heavily uses its soundtrack to advance the plot, but also features a sound-recording expert as the protagonist.

            Although Beck focuses on the soundtrack of The Conversation, the soundtrack to Apocalypse Now is also quite impressive. One of the most memorable scenes in the film, the entrance of the helicopters, is inexorably tied to the operatic “Ride of the Valkyries.” Coppola manages to use sound to not only augment visual displays, but also create the atmosphere for a scene. Moreover, Coppola uses popular songs such as The Doors’ “The End” to convey the despair of the moment.

            Beck also mentions Coppola’s use of “conceptual depth,” or the practice of using ambient sounds to make certain dialogue difficult for the audience to hear. Even though Beck only discusses this technique in the context of The Conversation, it is apparent in Apocalypse Now as well. For example, when the helicopters first arrive in Vietnam, the roar of the choppers keeps the men from hearing Lieutenant Kilgore’s orders. The viewer experiences the same confusion as the men must have felt, deaf and without direction. Moreover, the initial conversation between Kilgore and the California surfer is drowned out by the roar of enemy fire. Both men have to shout at each other to get their point across. Again, the chaos of war is emphasized, as is Kilgore’s lunacy while he tries to go surfing amid the din of heavy artillery.

        Coppola’s innovations in film audio are clearly represented in Apocalypse Now.

Conrad’s Heart of Darkness serves as the basic story for Coppola’s Apocalypse Now. The novel tells the story of a crazed British colonialist named Kurtz and the attempts of Marlow, a young sailor, to bring him back from the depths of Africa. While on the surface Heart of Darkness seems a simple story of a man corrupted by the wilderness and savagery that surrounds him, upon closer examination one finds it a treatise on colonization and human rights.

In the novel, just like in Apocalypse Now, the whites, through interfering with a foreign territory, corrupt the wilderness. For Conrad, the domineering power is the British colonists, while for Coppola that same force is the American army. In both cases, the aim of the whites is the same: to bring “civilization” to an untamed land and to exploit the wilderness for their own selfish purposes.

Both Europeans and Americans view the land not only as a commodity, but also as an enemy. Conrad depicts the scared colonialists shelling the river banks upon arrival in Africa, afraid of the jungle and what it may hold. Coppola adapts this idea in a variety of ways. He shows the enormous American helicopters cutting through the air over Vietnam accompanied by a loud orchestra, disturbing the serene scene below. Robert Duvall also makes the famous claim, “I love the smell of fresh napalm in the morning.” Conrad and Coppola similarly expose the destructive power of Westerners in their respective works.

            Richard Slotkin’s “Unit Pride: Ethnic Platoons and the Myths of American Nationality” examines the typical ethnic makeup of military platoons in war movies and explains how this archetype has changed over time.  Starting with Bataan (1943), most film platoons have been remarkably diverse, featuring members of every race fighting together as one to defeat America’s adversary.  In a way, the platoon became a microcosm of America, a tiny melting pot in which racial and cultural divisions slipped away and all that was left was a group of men fighting together for their country.

            Even though this convention has never stopped, it has evolved over time.  For example, Kurtz in Apocalypse Now presents an alternative way to unite American soldiers through viewing the enemy as a single group of brutes.  The madness of Kurtz and his desire to “exterminate the savages” is simply an extension of the traditional film paradigm.  By distinguishing himself and the rest of his American soldiers from the Vietnamese, he creates a strong sense of national identity, albeit a warped one.

            Apocalypse Now is also unique in that, while it celebrates the unity of the American people, it makes a clear division between those people and the government that they serve.  The superior officers, closer to the inner workings of the government, are crazed.  Kurtz has established a rogue military base in the jungle and Kilgore wants to go surfing amid artillery fire.  The American government is criticized for sending men ill-equipped for the mental and physical challenges of war.

            Although Apocalypse Now is critical of American involvement in Vietnam, it still represents a united platoon of soldiers fighting against powerful and evil antagonists; not only the Vietnamese but the American government as well.

            In “What Can a Film Make of a Book?,” Donata Meneghelli examines the process of adapting literary works to film.  Meneghelli first discusses the idea of fidelity, how true movies should be to the books on which they are based.  According to Meneghelli, the notion that dramatically altering an existing story is wrong can probably be traced back to the early days of film in which movies were considered mass art and not worthy of representing the finest literary works.  This philosophy, however, is outdated.  Even though many movies are not entirely faithful to the novel that inspired them, this is inconsequential; it is the director’s creative liberty to change the story as he so desires. 

            Apocalypse Now is clearly based on Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.  Although the connection between the two works is clear, Coppola’s film does not list Conrad or his book anywhere in the credits.  Rather than being an overt act of conceptual plagiarism, Meneghelli believes that the lack of a reference to Conrad is the result of an argument between John Milius, the film’s screenwriter, and Coppola over whose idea it was to use the famous novel as the basis for the movie. 

            While no official citation exists, the basic concepts of Apocalypse Now and Heart of Darkness are identical; the two share the same structural framework.  Even though the similarities between the works are clear, the two are also disparate in many senses, each clearly demarcated from the other.  These differences include setting (Vietnam instead of the Congo) and the type of conflict (American war in place of European colonialism).

            Considering these differences, Coppola’s masterpiece and Conrad’s novel are still strongly tied.  Even though Apocalypse Now and Heart of Darkness have superficial differences, the underlying sociopolitical commentary and wartime critique remain the same.  Both convey the message that imperialism is unjust and causes only tragedy and pain.