Dish of the Day
Just some film musings of a more succinct, spontaneous and sometimes seditious nature:
Thursday, July 31, 2025
Tonight on TCM:
Filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola’s 1979 magnum opus Apocalypse Now (the “Theatrical Version” reviewed here) has been canonised by its opening alone: perhaps the most hypnotically captivating introduction cinema has offered.
Martin Sheen
An operatic, mesmerising montage of napalm, jungle overgrowth, stone effigies and morphing blades is backed by the prophetic “The End” by The Doors. It offers more than a sensory feast by way of envisaging themes of perpetual psychological and moral calamity. Furthermore, we are immediately immersed in the fractured soul of Captain Benjamin Willard played with raw authenticity by Martin Sheen. Willard is a soldier adrift, mentally unmoored without a mission to define him. His narration reveals a man who has internalised the military’s structure so deeply, purpose is found through orders. “For my sins, they gave me one,” he confesses, as if both relieved and condemned. This duality—obedience and existential dread—reverberates throughout the film especially when, later, Willard begins to question the very basis of his assignment: the assassination of Colonel Walter Kurtz.
As Willard travels deeper into the wilderness aboard a Navy patrol boat, he remains largely a passive observer. This characteristic, plus the fact that most of Willard’s encounters fail to add new layers of motivation beyond what was established in his opening soliloquy, causes the narration (penned by the late American writer and war correspondent Michael Herr) to serve as the lens through which we can deepen our understanding of his nature. Willard’s reasoning toward his travelling companions, Kurtz (when examining the Colonel’s files) and some of the surreal mayhem that occurs during his journey is explored in a lucid fashion. Although Willard’s commentary binds us to his internal thought processes, savvy viewers may start to wonder if the inquisitive and enlightened words spoken coincide with the acquiescent soldier first introduced. * Nevertheless, he remains a man waiting, watching and reflecting, rather than acting.
That dynamic shifts considerably in one exceptional scene: the unscheduled stop of a Vietnamese sampan. Chief, the boat’s skipper, insists on inspecting the vessel suspecting its cargo might include supplies for the enemy. Willard, for once, breaks from his compliant role. He objects forcefully, claiming “Hell Chief, if it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t even be in these waters.” His sudden assertiveness marks a turning point, not just in the mission but in Willard’s transformation from bystander to executor. When the encounter goes horribly wrong, the incident becomes a microcosm of the Vietnam War itself: confusion, miscommunication and violent tragedy erupt from a misguided attempt at control. Willard’s calm but cold final remark, “I told you not to stop”, cements his role as a hardened assassin, now fully aligned with the brutal logic of his assignment. These moments stand out, not only for the emotional intensity on display but for their thematic clarity, encapsulating the film’s critique of war and authority.
Apocalypse Now’s episodic format is deliberate, designed to build anticipation as Willard nears his final destination: Colonel Kurtz’ compound. Each stop along the way introduces new unearthly elements contributing to the film’s dreamlike descent into madness. Not all episodes, however, carry equal weight or coherence within the broader storyline.
The most astounding centrepiece of Willard’s odyssey is undoubtedly the "Ride of the Valkyries" attack. Determination combined with devastating destruction contribute to an onslaught of mind-blowing proportions. Lieutenant Colonel Bill Kilgore (realised to perfection by actor Robert Duvall) commandeers an arial assault while furthering his own gung-ho theatrical exploits. He’s a character born from the pen of John Milius, Coppola’s writing partner. And although this fictional creation’s deeds remain impossible to glance away from, some audience members may begin to sense a clash of temperamental oversight between Milius’ ‘might makes right’ enthusiasm versus Coppola’s ‘the end hardly justifies the means’ reticence, not only toward war in general but the Viet Nam campaign in particular.
Particularly incongruous is the inclusion of an eccentric photojournalist played with manic energy by Dennis Hopper. In a place so remote, dangerous, and cut off from civilisation—where even a lobotomised looking Green Beret (noted actor Scott Glenn no less) stands eerily silent in the background—the photojournalist’s role is puzzling. Who does he report to, exactly? Hopper’s disposition offers cryptic commentary and idolises Kurtz (although the Colonel clearly despises him) but his function seems more like a bridge between scenes than an inherent contributor to the film’s emotional or philosophical core. While his ramblings may reflect the chaos and cult-like reverence surrounding Kurtz, they ultimately dilute, rather than heighten, both the tension and realism mostly procured throughout. Along with the footage added back to the “Redux” and “Final Cut” versions, perhaps the scenes with Hopper should have taken their rightful place on the cutting room floor.
When Captain Willard finally meets Colonel Kurtz—portrayed with brooding, self-contained intensity by Marlon Brando—the film adopts a contemplative, almost meditative tone. Kurtz’s monologues are hypnotic, improvised and philosophically rich, offering a chilling glimpse into a mind that has unraveled in pursuit of truth beyond conventional thinking or morality. These scenes are masterfully performed yet diverge from the dramatic momentum built earlier in the narrative. It’s a resolution that feels more cerebral than cathartic. Willard’s mission, defined so starkly as an assassination, lacks the emotional and dramatic payoff one might expect after such a harrowing journey. ***SPOILERS*** Even so, Willard’s final execution of Kurtz seems unnecessarily primitive, barbaric and prolongedly painful especially since it is, for all intensive purposes, sanctioned by Kurtz himself. What doesn’t help is that the deed is intercut by the real-life slaughter of a water buffalo drawing some vague and pretentious analogy between the two acts. ** Apocalypse Now invites us to ponder percipient questions—about war, its cost on our individual and collective humanity, sanity, and the nature of power but it stops short of providing a clear transformation in Willard himself. Has he changed? What has he learned? These questions linger, but the answers remain elusive.
The film’s visual and auditory dominance is undeniable (abetted by Vittorio Storaro’s stunning cinematography); its thematic ambition courageous. And yet, when all is said and done, viewers might justifiably yearn for a more emotionally resonant or structurally cohesive cinematic experience: an overall impression that matches the visionary impact made by numerous individual sequences. Apocalypse Now remains, in many ways, a towering storytelling achievement. In regards to its conclusion, however, one’s evaluation might be more akin to a philosophical echo than a dramatic crescendo.
* Looking through Kurtz’ dossier, Willard tells us (via his narration) with wise metaphorical insight, that objecting to Kurtz’ unrestrained malicious behaviour in this environment is “… like handing out speeding tickets at the Indy 500.” That’s quite an astute observation coming from a soldier who just wantonly follows orders.
** Any real-life depiction of animal harm or death instantly turns a fictional storyteller into a documentarian. Such an effect jars audience members who hold even a shred of identification with another sentient being out of a world of make believe into a recorded live event. The scene becomes one in which many of us, regardless of our ethical conclusions, will take time out to ponder whether the staging of such an act was worth its presentation. It would seem to me that filmmakers best avoid such depictions if for nothing more than that reason alone.
TCM is scheduled to air Apocalypse Now Thursday, July 31st at 6:15 pm PDT.
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All responses are not only welcomed but encouraged in the comments section below.
Hope to see you tomorrow.
A.G.