Distant Relatives: The Deer Hunter and The Hurt Locker

Robert here, with my new series Distant Relatives, where we look at two films, (one classic, one modern) related through a common theme and ask what their similarities and differences can tell us about the evolution of cinema.  Two Best Picture winners for today.

Addictive Personalities

There are about as many themes and concepts explored by war films as there are war films.  Still, they can be generally be narrowed down to three types.  There are films about the physical toll of war (Saving Private Ryan), the mental toll of war (Apocalypse Now) and the spiritual toll of war (The Thin Red Line).  Both The Deer Hunter and The Hurt Locker fit into the second category, but they're special.  We're not talking about Colonel Kurtz level madness here.  In fact, we're not talking about madness at all.  What both films are most interested in is the "hook" of war, the adrenaline rush.  The Hurt Locker doesn't beat around the bush here.  It starts with the quote "for war is a drug" from Chris Hedges' essay "War is a force that gives us meaning."  The Deer Hunter and The Hurt Locker are about two men whose worlds were torn clean of meaning by the nihilism of war and then gifted with meaning by the rush of war.

There are a lot of surface similarities between the two films.  Both follow three men, one of whom sustains a physical injury, one of whom comes to the realization of his absent legacy back home and one of whom can't bring himself to leave the battlefield.  Interestingly enough, both films find the excesses, and sterilized nature of a grocery store an apt contrast between war and home.  But unlike most war films, neither The Deer Hunter nor The Hurt Locker are interested in traditional extended battle scenes. The emphasis instead is on moments that feature the slow build of suspense, eventually the release of survival. 

Game of Chance

Other films have dabbled in the idea that soldiers find themselves compelled to return to or remain in war.  Yet few films can really make us understand why that is.  But a speech given late in The Hurt Locker by Sargeant James to his son makes it pretty clear.  There is only one thing left that he loves.  Why?  Because he's good at it... very good.  He's dismantled eight hundred and seventy three bombs successfully.  But can the same be said of The Deer Hunter's Nick?  Certainly his endeavors into Russian roulette yield enough money to send wads and wads back to his friends.  In this case, skill may not be required, but the exhalation of winning and living is still the same. It's that exhalation that seems to have made the lasting difference.  Even Sgt. James box of souvenirs that almost killed him aren't there to remind him that he almost died.  They're there to remind him that he lived.



What back home can compete with such an experience?  Is it hard to believe that the enhanced reality of facing death daily and surviving is preferable to a reality of not facing death at all?  The idea of enhanced reality in both films (and many war films in fact) suggests that normal feelings just don't cut it any more. There is a sense in  that the characters have been numbed and require over-stimulation to feel again.  This is perhaps why Nick self-injures, or why the men of Operation Liberty punch each other for fun.


Welcome to the Soldiers' Side

One of the primary differences between The Deer Hunter and The Hurt Locker is rooted in the influence of outside social factors.  In 1978 making an anti-Vietnam film wasn't exactly a bold statement. But in 2009, The Hurt Locker opened after a long line of anti-Iraq films that were received coolly by a divided public.  The film dodged controversy by focusing not on the question of the moral righteousness of war but simply on it's effect on soldiers.  Contrastingly, the 70's cultural climate gave Michael Cimino such a free hand to declare the Vietnam war wrong, some viewers felt he overdid it, specifically by inventing the factually inaccurate device of North Vietnamese soldiers forcing prisoners into Russian roulette games. Still, the protesters outside were not enough to keep the film from winning Best Picture.

While it's hard to make an argument that subtlety is making a comeback, these two films, each in their respective political climate are a lesson in the softening touch of a message.  Could you imagine The Hurt Locker closing with a sad rendition of "God Bless America?"  Equally it shows far less of the characters' home lives than The Deer Hunter (which it needs for the most extreme possible contrast).  Nick's mental state is far more deteriorated than Sgt James', and his end is far more dramatic. But in addition to the political climate, you could argue that in the thirty years between the films, audiences have broadened their scope and definition of what constitutes the meaningful effect of war on its participants.  So as it becomes more difficult to deliver an overt anti-war message it becomes easier to display the subtleties of its lasting impact.

There is one more important distinction is perhaps the difference between a film about a war that's ended, where Nick's fate is known and one that has not, where Sgt. James' fate is up to you or me.  The Deer Hunter tells us how things ended.  The Hurt Locker asks us to wonder how we'd like things to end.

Cinematic Soldiers for Veteran's Day

Robert here. For many of us being a soldier is an experience we'll only get vicariously courtesy of the movies.  In honor of Veteran's Day, I thought I'd share some of my favorite portrayals of American soldiers.  They aren't always the most famous actors or the biggest roles, but they've made impressions.  If you've not seen any of the particular films listed and don't want to know who lives or dies, you may want to skip to the next entry.

General George S. Patton played by George C. Scott in Patton (1970)

Starting off with a big one.  Patton is such a towering figure in American History and Scott's Oscar winning portrayal gives us an understanding of the man who often found himself caught in a place between his own talents and the stern hand he felt was needed and the more careful policies of those he served.

Steven Pushkov played by John Savage in The Deer Hunter (1978)

As the sense of patriotism imbued by World War II films made way for the cynicism of the Vietnam era characters like Steven whose great sacrifice seemed to leave no echo or purpose became more and more common.  There's something unspoken and tragic about not only Savage's portrayal of a newlywed filled with a sense of duty only to have his life change forever, but the fact that his story is so common it doesn't even warrant more than a tertiary plot line.

Homer Parrish played by Harrold Russell in The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)

One of the many successes of The Best Years of Our Lives was its ability to illuminate the lasting scars of even what was considered the most just of wars.  Primary to this success was Russell's portrayal of Homer Parrish.  It's the type of performance that makes you feel every struggle and frustration of a man's life as you come to a greater understanding of someone other than yourself and feel thankful that the film will be around for posterity so that others may understand.

Sgt. Maj. John Rawlins played by Morgan Freeman in Glory (1989)

Early in his career, Freeman plays the kind of role that he'd become known for: strong and inspirational, the perfect audience surrogate for what we'd like to be.  His character is certainly less demanding than Washington's Trip, and while his promotion is a sign of how far we can come in times of struggle (and a nice feel good moment) the realization that it doesn't much matter to others, particularly white union troops, is a reminder of how reality often has a lot of catching up to do.

Jay 'Chef' Hicks played by Frederic Forrest in Apocalypse Now (1979)

In a film populated by characters of extreme mental anguish, the soldiers aboard Captain Willis's transport are our only real connection to reality.  Most easily relatable is Chef, whose enviable backstory (he's a saucier in New Orleans) and palpable fear draw us in.  By the time he reaches Kurtz's compound an delivers one of the more haunting speeches in the film, "I used to think if I died in an evil place, then my soul wouldn't be able to make it to Heaven. But now ... I don't care where it goes, as long as it ain't here." we know those wishes won't likely be filled.  It's a moment we're spared seeing but I've played in my head over and over.

Pfc. Smithson Utivich played by B.J. Novak in Inglourious Basterds (2009)

Okay admittedly Novak isn't really given much to do with this character and you might be wondering why him in a movie filled with larger than life personalities.  Specifically because he isn't.  It's a reminder that most soldiers (and most of the "basterds") were practically just kids.  The utterance of his nickname "The Little Man" is a comical moment because it's rooted in truth.  He's no Brad Pitt or Steve McQueen or John Wayne.  But he doesn't have to be.  "The Little Man" can be a hero too.

Sgt. J.T. Sanborn played by Anthony Mackie in The Hurt Locker (2009)

Jeremy Renner's Sgt. James might be the wild man star of the story but Mackie's Sanborn has an arc that puts his to shame. Sanborn isn't just the straight man, he's a real man who slowly comes to understand why he's been so driven to follow the rules.  By the time he laments, "I don't even have a son." we've come to not only understand what he's so afraid of, but feel it as well.

Capt. James "Bugger" Staros played by Elias Koteas in The Thin Red Line (1998)

In a film where characters are sharply divided between the contemplative romantics and the realist cynics, Koteas's Staros is a welcome brush with reality.  His Captain is neither overwhelmed by the beauty of the world nor disgusted by its realities.  He's just a man who seems pretty sure of his position in the moral quandary between following orders and risking the lives of his men.  It's difficult not to like him for this reason, but once the film is done with him, we know not to expect any karmic reward for his dissonance.  Malick's world doesn't work like that.

Sgt. O'Neill played by John C. McGinley in Platoon (1986)

My lasting memory of Platoon has nothing to do with the three lead actors, but instead features a young McGinley, sitting in a fox hole as a wash of emotion plays over his face: relief and probably guilt that he's survived another attack, fear that eventually it won't matter, and utter desperation to just plain go home.  Moments like that give you pause to realize the importance of the little stories in films.  Whether Sgt. O'Neill lived or died wasn't essential to the film's major dramatic story, but it sure was essential to him.

Pvt. Stanley Mellish played by Adam Goldberg in Saving Private Ryan (1998)

In a film where Steven Spielberg wanted deaths to be more than plot points, perhaps none stung as much as Pvt. Mellish.  A likable character, (it feels good watching him declare his Judaism to passing Nazi prisoners), Mellish's killing is so affecting not only because it's slow and feels so real, but because there is a realization that in this small fight, in the middle of a larger battle, in the middle of a larger war, the bad guy won, and there's no going back.

What performances of soldiers, whether lead, supporting or even smaller, have left a lasting impression on you?