Reviews

Francis Ford Coppola's "Apocalypse Now" is not a Vietnam War film. Do not confuse it with one. It is set to the back drop of the war, but it is a metaphorical exposition on the deteriorating effects that war has on the human psyche. It is also one of the most audacious films ever made, produced, or even conceived (second to the Lord of the Rings trilogy. To call it a masterpiece would be an understatement of proportions as ambitious as the film's production levels.

Opening with no credits and following a memorable first scene playing to the tune of the Doors "The End" as Martin Sheen's Captain Benjamin L. Willard hallucinates to images of helicopters and napalm, the plot is essentially laid out in the first 15 minutes. Willard's mission is to "terminate... with extreme prejudice" Colonel Kurtz (Marlon Brando) who has invariably gone AWOL in the far reaches of the Cambodian jungle and, as told by his general, is "out there operating without any decent restraint, totally beyond the pale of any acceptable human conduct. And he is still in the field commanding troops." Kurtz is a delusional Colonel now being worshipped by a large group of followers who have dubbed him a god. For Willard, this covert operation seems somewhat more manageable than actual combat, yet, the journey he is about to take will be a personal quest that will challenge the limits of his human behavior.

Teaming up with a small crew, they embark down the vast reaches of the river in a rickety boat. Along the way, Willard educates himself on all things Kurtz. During Sheen's raspy voice over, he details his thoughts on the abundance of material he reads. Kurtz was a highly decorated and respected Green Beret. He was a normal man with a family, until a part of him succumbed to the horrors of human brutality and he led himself down the path that Willard is being led. The descent into the jungle is marked by a mesmerizing aura that echoes the battles being fought not to far away. Eventually the power of the experience weights on the group as drugs and a sort of solitary confinement attacks their senses. But Willard seems unfazed and desensitized in his quest to find Kurtz. As he reads about this mythic figure, he is drawn to the man's power and why he has become what he has become. We know that Willard's slow decay will parallel that of Kurtz's.

Marlon Brando has been revered for decades. His presence: unmatchable. His genius: undeniable. But for those unacquainted with his acting prowess and unaccustomed to his physical nuance, Brando can be perceived, in the eyes of an uncompromising film-goer, as a hack. He is most certainly not. Brando was difficult to work with, hard to interpret and impossible to understand, but his talent for unintelligible rants and unparalleled monologues is irrefutable. The man obviously knew what he was doing even if we didn't. His Colonel Kurtz is a being of limitless delusions and continual profundity.

If the film is any indication of the journeys into hell than Francis Ford Coppola's actual experience with making this masterpiece is a true life account of one man's fanatical struggle to produce a movie. It is reported that during the film's 200 plus day principle photography schedule, Coppola contemplated suicide. The film was not only an undeniable struggle to make; it is a grueling film to watch. Coppola's sweat and blood seep through the pores of the steamy locals and his dedication filters through the orifices of Martin Sheen's haunted soldier Willard.

I can not help but feel a warm sense of nostalgia for this type of film. At the dawn of all that was original and unprecedented, films that challenged as well as stimulated were commonplace. Audacity aside, Apocalypse Now is pure film-making. My respect and admiration for Mr. Coppola is of the highest order. But I shudder at the return to what has become the norm for today's standards for film: a lack of innovation. It is not simply the unoriginality of the world of cinema today; it is the fact that nobody seems to care to tell a story anymore or to tell one with heart. But we still have the great ones like Coppola's masterpiece, a film which bathed in its ability to give us something deeper than that which we could comprehend.

That depth in Apocalypse Now is the step into madness. The killing can disturb. The loss of innocence can unhinge. But it is the damage from within; the countless barrages of images that distress, unnerve and detach us from our everyday world and the memories that plague our deepest thoughts that eventually segregates us from humanity and propels us into the realm of the instinctual, the savage and the animalistic. If the thought of killing does not provide sustenance, the act of killing provides man with its fundamental catharsis.

Is Jacob Singer dreaming? Is his life one giant nightmare? Is he simply hallucinating, suffering post traumatic stress syndrome form Vietnam? We don't know. But director Adrianne Lynn will show us Jacob's nightmare. He will take into the depths of one man's hell and in the process, attempt to explain poor Jacob's psychosis.

Jacob SInger (Tim Robbins) returned from Vietnam different. He is now haunted by horrid visions of demons, strange entities and people who may or may not want to hurt him. He confides in his girlfriend Jezzie (Elizabeth Pena), but she cannot fathom the horror that Jacob is experiencing. He seeks guidance from his chiropractor (Danny Aiello), an old friend who holds some all too wise wisdom. And Jacob is still broken by the death of his young son. He still mourns despite seeming to begin a new life away from his old family (he is divorced). Yet when he is on the subway, he sees a man with what appears to be a tail. When at a party, he witnesses his girlfriend dance erotically with a winged creature. And then there are the faces, faceless beings that shake rapidly. Is Jacob crazy or did something happen in Vietnam?

Jacob's Ladder is scary not because it is filled with gore. No one is eviscerated, maimed or disembowled. The true terror is psychological, touching the very core of what can disturb. We are not frightened, shielding our eyes from the screen, hiding in the shoulder of a significant other. No, we are unsettled yet mesmerized, astounded by what we are seeing. The most frightening images are the ones you can't look away from.

Take for instance the scene with Jacob on his bed, grieving over the loss of his son. We see the desolate apartment, we hear the quiet and we feel his anguish. The fact that we see a man violently vibrate his body, howling and shrieking a horrible sound is off settling. That man is not supposed to be there. Jacob knows that. We know that. Yet the director, Lynn, knows this as well. And by incorporating an image so... unusual at such an abrupt moment, it shows us the level that the film has taken. Lynn is now able to do anything, show us anything. He has become the puppeteer not only of the characters but of the audience. When a director takes away your entire sense of reality, he becomes dangerous and the audience is more alone than ever.

The ending is a matter of perspective and interpretation. One can look at it as closure. Another can look at it as a cop out: a display of cleverness. But everything that has been leading up to it has been exhilarating, a true showcase of the surreal. The fact is one cannot leave "Jacob's Ladder" normal. You just can't. The film requires too many emotions. It requires too much thought. Even for a person who admires the film, even likes it, I still cannot end the movie without feeling different: silent, perhaps cold, disturbed yet maybe even enlightened.

This film could have not been made now. There is just no way that the quality would still remain, nor the genuine terror. Today, psychology has been replaced with cliché and story has been replaced with CGI. To think of truly great horror, none have ever been made post visual effects era. The fact that this film is not ruined by quick editing, over stylized cinematography and flashy effects is a testament to the time in which it was made. The dry, washed out color, grainy, gritty appearance and subtle, ambient score are all a credit to the late 80's, early 90's: an era where the practicality of effects added to the realism not detracted. Because of this, the story, plot and characters take over, a rare occasion in today's films.

The brilliance of Jacob's Ladder arises form the film's ability to only show us the "door." The director describes it to us and only hints at what is behind. We, as the audience, are required to figure out what is truly inside and ultimately open it. The problem with modern genre movies is that the director opens the "door" for us. Why can't we choose to examine the "door" and only wonder what is behind it? Wy can't we decide if we want to open it or not? Well, in the case of the film, it is not a "door" but a "ladder." We have to decide if we want to venture up or down. For me... I ventured up.