Following upon such previous works as PATHS OF GLORY and DR. STRANGELOVE, Stanley Kubrick again turned his scrutiny to the follies of war in FULL METAL JACKET, based on Gustav Hasford's autobiographical Vietnam War novel "The Short Timers". This 1987 drama, featuring a talented non-star cast headed by Matthew Modine, did lukewarm box office in the wake of more grandiose and/or traditional entertainments like APOCALYPSE NOW and PLATOON. But time has been kind to Kubrick's second-to-last film, and to my mind at least, it shines more icily brilliant with each viewing.
The film consists of two parts: Marine Corps basic training at Parris Island, South Carolina, where we meet our hero, Private 'Joker' (Modine) and his fellow recruits; and the second, longer section set in Vietnam, chiefly involving the 1968 Tet Offensive.
The early scenes are both harrowing and blackly humorous, with a riveting performance by neophyte Lee Ermey (an actual former Marine drill instructor who was originally hired as a technical adviser) as Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, who focuses most of his object lessons on the unfortunate Private 'Pyle.' The latter is played by a young Vincent D'Onofrio (of "Law and Order").
Kubrick's trademark clinical eye is in evidence here, with deep focus compositions that reveal in unflinching detail the dehumanization process of basic training, ostensibly designed to mold from these callow youths the killers desired by the military brass. That the sequence of incidents escalates to a blackly ironic but inevitable conclusion does not diminish its horrific fascination.
The story then leaps forward in time to Joker's adventures as a reporter for "Stars and Stripes" in Vietnam. Most of the action follows Joker and wet-behind-the-ears colleague 'Rafterman'(Kevyn Major Howard), as they travel "in country" with the former's buddy 'Cowboy' (played by Arliss Howard from the opening sequence) and his squad on a reconnaissance mission into the bombed-out city of Hue. There death again rears its head, more randomly this time, and Joker and the other Marines must do what they have to to stay alive.
The ending has Joker and his comrades, M-16's at the ready, singing the "Mickey Mouse Club" song while marching into the dark and uncertain future. They are alive. They are not afraid.
It's a disquieting tale, but its truths seem simple and clear. Kubrick may have had a jaundiced view of the human condition, but there's no doubt he believed in man's ability to survive in dire straits.
The film consists of two parts: Marine Corps basic training at Parris Island, South Carolina, where we meet our hero, Private 'Joker' (Modine) and his fellow recruits; and the second, longer section set in Vietnam, chiefly involving the 1968 Tet Offensive.
The early scenes are both harrowing and blackly humorous, with a riveting performance by neophyte Lee Ermey (an actual former Marine drill instructor who was originally hired as a technical adviser) as Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, who focuses most of his object lessons on the unfortunate Private 'Pyle.' The latter is played by a young Vincent D'Onofrio (of "Law and Order").
Kubrick's trademark clinical eye is in evidence here, with deep focus compositions that reveal in unflinching detail the dehumanization process of basic training, ostensibly designed to mold from these callow youths the killers desired by the military brass. That the sequence of incidents escalates to a blackly ironic but inevitable conclusion does not diminish its horrific fascination.
The story then leaps forward in time to Joker's adventures as a reporter for "Stars and Stripes" in Vietnam. Most of the action follows Joker and wet-behind-the-ears colleague 'Rafterman'(Kevyn Major Howard), as they travel "in country" with the former's buddy 'Cowboy' (played by Arliss Howard from the opening sequence) and his squad on a reconnaissance mission into the bombed-out city of Hue. There death again rears its head, more randomly this time, and Joker and the other Marines must do what they have to to stay alive.
The ending has Joker and his comrades, M-16's at the ready, singing the "Mickey Mouse Club" song while marching into the dark and uncertain future. They are alive. They are not afraid.
It's a disquieting tale, but its truths seem simple and clear. Kubrick may have had a jaundiced view of the human condition, but there's no doubt he believed in man's ability to survive in dire straits.