Apocalypse Now

My first time watching Apocalypse Now was a bit of a perplexing experience.  I was in middle school, right as I was starting to watch and study more classic films that weren’t made by Spielberg or Lucas, and I watched it on a much smaller screen.  I was blown away (no pun intended) by the napalm bombing sequence, the intense otherworldly atmosphere, and felt like I finally got the constant pop culture references I’d seen before the movie.  When “I love the smell of napalm in the morning” and “the horror…” came up, I felt like Rick Dalton jumping out of his chair: he said the thing!!  But there’s no way my middle-schooler brain really understood it.  It reminds me of the first time I watched 2001 and Aftersun: I couldn’t put my finger on it just yet, but I knew I was seeing something.  The writers and filmmakers were way ahead of me, and I knew I needed another viewing to fully digest it, but in retrospect that’s what I love about it.  Apocalypse Now stuck with me as soon as Brando said “the horror” again, the statue showed up in the foreground, and the screen faded to black.   As I saw it a couple more times, read about the insane production history, and saw the phenomenal documentary Hearts of Darkness—-on a side note, this is an absolute must-watch if you’re into cinema and filmmaking in general. One of the few making-of docs that’s every bit as good as the movie it’s based on—-I gained more and more appreciation for it.  I started to see the undeniable influence that the chaotic production had on the film, an ambitious, sprawling project that created an equally ambitious and sprawling final product, albeit one that works. And after seeing Megalopolis, the fascinating stinker that Coppola sold his winery to produce (a sprawling, ambitious project that didn’t work), I couldn’t help but further appreciate the Coppola of the 70s.  What an incredible decade for a filmmaker, since all of the films he directed in that decade went down as all-time classics, all of which were so formative for me.  Considering how the film industry has changed since the New Hollywood era—-in some ways for the worse, given Hollywood’s reliance on IPs and streaming content slop whenever it’s not festival season—-I doubt there’s gonna be another movie like Apocalypse Now.  There have been risky, ambitious big-budget projects with art cinema sensibilities since, but none of them have had nearly the seismic impact on the medium that Apocalypse Now continues to have to this day. So it’s about time I finally got to see this classic on the big screen—and in a 300-seat auditorium with surround sound, the way it was supposed to be seen.  This time I saw the Final Cut edition—-confession time: the only version of the film I’d seen all the way through up to this point was the 1979 theatrical cut.  To be honest, I still prefer the shorter cut: the added banter between the crew is a welcome addition, and the first half of the French plantation section works nicely (Clean’s funeral is a beautiful, poignant moment), but the lengthy political debate and Willard’s tryst with the French settler’s wife really slow the story down, and make the philosophical themes more obvious.  But regardless of what cut was screened, Apocalypse Now was a phenomenal theater experience.  The already-amazing sound design by Walter Murch (who quite literally coined the term “sound design” for this film) became even more staggering in the theater.  I got chills and goosebumps during the Ride of the Valkyries sequence, which was jaw-dropping to see in a huge auditorium.  I could feel the bass of the synthesized helicopter whirring at the opening, followed by perhaps the greatest needle drop in cinema history, of “The End”.  It was like seeing the film for the first time. There’s just so much to love in this film, starting with the ensemble cast. Within that ensemble, there's not a bad performance in sight: Martin Sheen gives an unsettling turn as the troubled Captain Willard, a passive protagonist whose dark side keeps brewing throughout the runtime. Sheen's performance is underrated compared to Duvall's and Brando's, as he's able to convey so much of the darkness within Willard with just that intense stare and that ominous voiceover. But there's a reason we all remember Duvall as Col. Kilgore, the rowdy, often sadistic army man who takes perverse pleasure in bombing 'Nam. He chews the scenery every chance he gets, and steals his section of the film; a memorable role with little screen time, one that was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar, and easily should have won. Speaking of memorable roles with little screen time, Brando is endlessly creepy as Kurtz, making the role well worth the long buildup. The supporting cast is just as memorable, with a brief, crazed-as-usual turn from Dennis Hopper as a photojournalist brainwashed by Kurtz, and even a young Lawrence--credited as "Larry" Fishburne; Going through Coppola's filmography, I'm always amazed at how he was able to get so many talented young actors off the ground, and Apocalypse is no different with Coppola getting Fishburne. Vittorio Storaro's cinematography is staggering to watch, making great use of the widescreen aspect ratio and giving the river such an otherworldly, unsettling quality. The orange glow of the sun makes the jungles feel all the more oppressive. Storaro and Coppola capture the setting without using much artificial light and prevent the movie from looking overly staged. They choose to light Brando in heavy shadows to haunting effect, only adding to the mystery and allure of Kurtz. Storaro won an Oscar for his work on Apocalypse, and deservedly so; this is one of the most gorgeous, utterly unique-looking films of its time. The camera moves constantly during battle scenes, often going to handheld and helicopter shots to make battles even more realistic, but willing to slow down as we get to the Kurtz compound. Storaro and Coppola's amazing visuals nicely complement the already-amazing set design of the Kurtz compound by Dean Tavoularis; the images of the skulls and bodies all over the compound are some of the scariest things I've seen in a film, horror or not. Rewatching it now, Apocalypse Now reminds me a bit of Werner Herzog's Arguirre, The Wrath of God, through its realistic depiction of a journey up a jungle river, as well as in its social commentary. The editing is also excellent, cutting quickly during combat and larger-scale sequences, while slowing down during character moments, and brilliantly using juxtapositions between scenes; the juxtaposition between the slaughter of the ox and Willard finishing off Kurtz is striking, very disturbing, and fitting given how ritualistic both killings appear to be. Dissolves are also used in such a unique, often hypnotic way, laying images of Willard's face over both the destruction in 'Nam and PBR Street Gang's journey up the river. I'm not surprised that the film took as long to edit as it did to shoot, considering just how much was shot and just how much action the film packs into its story. Dare I say it: Apocalypse Now might just be the best sound designed film of all time, or at least up to that point. Editor Walter Murch was so invested with creating the world of the film through sound that the term "sound designer" was invented on his behalf. All that sound work paid off, since the sound is just incredible, especially for a 1979 film. Listen to the film with the picture turned off, and try to tell me that this was made in the late 70s; it's the earliest film I can think of that sounds brand-new in terms of sound quality. Murch and co. take advantage of Dolby Stereo 70mm 6-Track sound to immerse the audience in the chaos of the Vietnam war---no more old-fashioned stock explosions and gunfire, the gunfire and explosions sound real and staggering. The strange helicopter whirring in the opening sounds otherworldly and surreal, perfectly setting the tone for this otherworldly, surreal cinematic experience. Seeing the movie on the big screen in surround sound was absolutely incredible. One aspect of the movie that I don't see talked about as much is the score, composed by Coppola with his father Carmine. It's an incredible, haunting, instantly memorable synth-heavy soundtrack---the only bit that isn't synth-heavy is a somber flute solo that plays a couple times. The score isn't used in every scene---the iconic "Ride of the Valkyries" and "The End" needle drops, and the immersive sound effects are given more attention in most scenes---but when it's there, it adds so much to the already-heavy atmosphere. Some pieces sound right out of a Vangelis album, with new-age-y influences and a creepy sound that fit perfectly with the haunting journey up the Nung River. One piece that plays halfway through, as Willard reads out the Kurtz dossier, is outright epic, and one of my favorite pieces of electronic music created for a film. By modernizing the Heart of Darkness story, Apocalypse Now makes for a pointed commentary on the Vietnam War, and the chaos of imperialism in general. When Kilgore and Lance are onscreen, bantering about surfing on the river while ordering their comrades to shoot down Vietnamese civilians, we can't help but sneer at them. As they shoot down a village, of course Kilgore rewards them with a beer, and of course he decorates the dead bodies with playing cards. This is just the beginning of the absurd spectacle we see in Apocalypse Now, which peaks with the Playboy Playmate USO show; the soldiers get to holler and catcall at the Playmates and make drunken fools of themselves, all the while Vietnamese civilians watch blankly behind the fences, an apt allegory for just how much Americans love the spectacle, regardless of what situation it's placed in. It's not as overtly political as other anti-war films of the time, or focused particularly on Vietnam itself---Platoon from a few years later is probably a more scathing indictment of this particular conflict---but if anything that makes the story more universal, as it could fit into any imperial war. When the Americans fill the jungles with napalm, it's horrifying but strange and trippy to watch. The explosions are huge and done for real (no CGI or special effects whatsoever!), and they blend in with the smoke-covered yellow skies, making for a striking cinematic image while also making bombings seem like the new normal in Vietnam, further adding to the critique. There are so many ambiguous, allegorical images and plot points in Apocalypse Now, which make multiple viewings all the more rewarding. One of the most fascinating ones happens with Lance the surfer. When I watched it when I was younger, I didn't understand why Lance would be the only other survivor of this journey and become part of Kurtz's cult. Or better yet, why does he take the dog, and later lose the dog? Now I think that Lance is the most naive of the crew: he's a celebrity that even Kilgore idolizes (this could be why Kilgore gives him a more enthusiastic salute than he does to Willard), and mostly cares about good surf spots on the river, not to mention he's high as a kite most of the time. So of course he becomes more susceptible to Kurtz's new-religious movement. Him having the dog could also represent how people must become more animalistic to participate in war, or more specifically, join Kurtz's religion----or does Lance metaphorically become the dog? For so long, I initially thought all these small details were planned far ahead of time, and that would make sense considering how well all these oddities fit in with the surrealism of the film. But considering how much of the film was conceived during the troubled shoot, a lot of these are happy, and not-so-happy, accidents. I'm sure Apocalypse Now would have been a pretty good film had production gone smoothly, but I'm not sure it would have been an all-timer, and one with so much potential for further interpretations, had everything gone as planned. With so many classic films, regardless of how good the original script or plan is, they end up as good as they do by accident, and as a result of so many talented cast and crew members; or in Apocalypse's case, the complicated production. There is not a film I've seen that is anything like Apocalypse Now, from before or since. It's one of the most massive epic films in cinema history, only rivaling Lawrence of Arabia or Gone With the Wind in its sheer scale and spectacle, but it's one of the most arty and often perplexing films that has gotten mainstream popularity. To be honest, it's not the most accessible film for a mainstream audience expecting a sweeping, melodramatic war movie. But for what it is, Apocalypse Now is a staggering, unique, singular, visionary piece of cinematic art, and by far one of the best films ever made. While so many movies from 1979 have been forgotten by time, Apocalypse Now is a timeless classic that's just as relevant now as it was then, and will last forever.