It is obvious that the Vietnam War sub-genre has been a haven for fantastic films, with Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket and Coppola’s Apocalypse Now being the heavyweights of them all. I had always thought of Platoon as the “runt of the litter” – seemingly a little less fleshed out with symbolism – until I recently dug deeper into the storyline as a more developed version of my fourteen-year-old self who loved every minute initially for it’s realistic action and cool sixties soundtrack. Oliver Stone’s 1986 feature was based in his own experiences in the ‘Nam and the film does not miss out on gritty realism because of this.
The story follows new recruit Chris Taylor (Charlie Sheen) as he enlists in the United States army and goes to serve in Vietnam, initially an eager member of his company. Taylor’s company is headed by two very individual sergeants; Staff Sergeant Barnes (Tom Berenger) who is the epitome of a man of war, and the idealistic Sergeant Elias, portrayed by Willem Dafoe. The two very different styles of leadership clash instantly, with Barnes preferring to be brutal and relentless with the Vietnamese citizens who he assumes are all fighting for the Viet Cong, and Elias – who has become disillusioned with the war over a three-year period – wanting to keep collateral damage to a minimum. The performances of the three main characters are impeccable, especially in relation to Berenger’s Barnes and Dafoe’s Elias. It is their difference which drives the film as a case study of the duality of man.
It is this that made me realise that actually, Platoon is full of symbolism, yet it doesn’t flaunt it in an overly-pretentious way. It is set within the boundaries of the Vietnam War, allowing the characters to slip into an almost primal state, needing to just survive, whilst giving them a human reason to do so: war is hell. The divisions between Barnes and Elias become evident in Chris, who consciously argues with himself about how best to handle the atrocious conditions. There is an intense moment when it seems like Chris is one bad look away from pulling the trigger on an innocent farmer, and in the next scene he is tenderly caring for Vietnamese girls who have been sexually abused by Chris’ colleagues. His inner struggle about how to handle his part in the war is realistic in it’s absolute sincerity about what it would be like to be in that situation yourself, and Chris is instantly relatable because of this. The film first peaks in the death of Elias, who is portrayed as somewhat of a martyr as his body slumps to the ground in slow-motion, his arms outstretched like Christ on the crucifix, and thus signalling Chris’ final decision on how he wants to act in the war. The effect Elias’ death has on Chris is ironic in that the death of his mentor, who was attempting to advocate peace under the harshest of conditions, led Chris to commit the worst act a human can commit to another – another reflection on the absolute duality of a man’s conscience.
The only issue with the way it is presented is that over the years, is that it has been remembered as more of a violent action-fest than a reflection on a troubling time in world history. I’m not saying it doesn’t address issues of patriotism and morality because it absolutely does, but it is not so obvious as Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket, for example. And in part, I think this is why it does not scale up to the immense philosophical discussions surrounding Apocalypse Now and the aforementioned Full Metal Jacket. The action sequences are grittier, and more realistic than other films. It is, as much as a war movie can be, beautifully shot and features stunning scenes of the lush greenery of Luzon, in the Philippines, where the movie was filmed. You are never given a moment’s chance to even consider the outside world as you are dropped straight into the centre of American military operations and feel the immediate sense of camaraderie among the different groups of soldiers. The soundtrack has been iconic in its use of Samuel Barber’s ‘Adagio for Strings’ as it is a musical motif that keeps coming back at the most challenging, emotionally-charged points in the film: a constant reminder of the difficulty of losing your friends and losing your innocence.
It succeeds in presenting the soldiers as just a bunch of guys who don’t really want to be there, which I think is one of the most important points of the film. These aren’t trained killers who are combat-ready, they are kids who have been drafted in to fight for a cause that they don’t even really understand. The innocence of many of the soldiers is a stark contrast to the reality that the veterans have already faced. This film is the reality of the war: it is not a glorified account of battle, but a moving depiction of the loss of innocence and personal struggle during harsh times. All of the characters, even Berenger’s immediately unlikable Barnes, are relatable in one way or another – their story is of togetherness and more importantly, survival. The need to survive is instilled in every single human being, and that is what makes Platoon a hard-hitting piece of cinema. It plays on our very basic instincts, and asks the immensely difficult question of, “What would you do?”
Platoon is a hugely effective movie. It puts you into a situation with the characters without a moment to breathe and keeps you right in the centre of the action all the time. The film makes you question your own morality (What would you do?) and it bears heavily on my mind each time I watch it. Having been exposed to it at a younger age, I never fully grasped the concept of it completely. Now, however, every time I hear the iconic strings, it is hard not to think of the loss of innocence associated with the movie, as well as the physical and mental sacrifices made by those who fought in the war.
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