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The Pacific Theater, '42 to '45, with a crucial image early on (trembling gun aimed at imperial silhouette) to indicate Fuller's Run of the Arrow. The American deserter (Nick Nolte) washes ashore in Borneo, next seen he sits on a throne as rajah of a Dyak tribe, the view is that of the British captain (Nigel Havers) who parachutes into the island. "I suppose you still think you're Tarzan, do you?" "And you think you're Lawrence of Arabia, I'm sure." The leonine dropout in his idealized corner, deriding warfare while exceeding at it and dubbing his native subjects "Comanches," assuredly a John Milius self-portrait. A bombardier pierces the private idyll, "freedom" is the basic necessity. "Anything else?" "Guns. So they can't take the freedom away... And grenades, mortars and mines so they can't take the guns away." Kipling revised by Rousseau, or rather Apocalypse Now revised by its screenwriter, an allegory of civilization and history undiminished by extensive studio cutting. Between the Allies and the Japanese, the indigenous militia in the ancient valley of nostalgia. "An army after my own heart, sir." Massive combat constructions derived from Lean, reported to the haughty colonel (James Fox) and endured by the Kenyan sergeant (Frank McRae). An allusion to Camelot, an invocation of Solomon, a homage or two to The Man Who Would Be King. Salt of life, "where the real jungle begins." The meticulous buildup to a nocturnal skirmish illuminated by explosions, paradise engulfed by flames and the river murky with blood, Milius in full swing. It ends happily with betrayal of country and honor to man, Gen. MacArthur (John Bennett Perry) tips his pipe to protagonist and filmmaker alike: "History is written by unusual men." Malick pointedly carries Nolte over to The Thin Red Line. With Marilyn Tokuda, Aki Aleong, Marius Weyers, William Wise, Elan Oberon, Gerry Lopez, and Richard Morgan.
--- Fernando F. Croce |