The Deer Hunter

Probably the greatest cinematic display of trauma, and how it affects different people. This was one of the first true Vietnam war films, and you can feel that. I believe director Cimino may have found difficulty in depicting the actual scenes in Vietnam, therefore the limited time we ended up having with them in the film. As for a Vietnam film, it’s interesting how vast majority of the film takes place in a small town in Pennsylvania - but that’s absolutely to its credit. The first hour, and the final hour of this film take place outside of the war. The first being one of the greatest introductions I’ve had the pleasure of seeing. It expresses such overwhelming joy. The beauties of life. The wedding scene just puts the widest grin on your face. It really is wonderful how quickly you come to love these characters, but more importantly - understand them. With that being said, you see the cracks of darkness appear. You don’t come into this film expecting a jubilant time, further subverting the war aspect to it, but you can’t help the feeling of ecstasy when you do. Which is why those small hints or violence, or depression, sprinkled throughout that night of the wedding are important. But even they don’t prepare you enough for the abruptness of that wonderful cut to Vietnam. The cinematography of The Deer Hunter is an absolute standout. It can be gritty when it needs to, it gets up close and personal, to express just how close we are to these characters. But it’s in those wide angles the beauty of this film is. The first shot of Vietnam, we go from the coolness of America, to the blazing explosions, the violence of being so abruptly cut into the tragedy of war. Just like any good war film, the devastation of the impact war has is in full display. With just a few minutes, we’re thrown into the hellish environment our characters, who just 10 minutes ago we were laughing with, endure. It’s this part of the film when we’re introduced to the scene that sticks with you most. The climax of the film is the dreaded game of Russian Roulette. The Vietnamese hold soldiers captive, including the three protagonists whom were sent to war, in a small shack. You’re full with suspense. You see the gruesomeness of what a bullet does. It’s the most desolate point in the film. There’s such a lack of hope, replaced with terror and a fearful acceptance of fate. But what I must state is the sense of patriotism in this film. When these characters felt such emptiness, knowing the next few moment of their life could be their last, they clung on to this idea of standing up against Vietnam, against war, showing them they still had a fight - for America if nothing else. The whole reason they went to war was nobility. Their friends back in Pennsylvania applauded their heroism to fight, and that’s what I think is so fascinating. At the beginning of the film, I stated how the protagonists process trauma differently, and how excellently the film presents this. Michael is the one who clings onto this willingness to fight, but it’s Nicky who succumbs to that desolation. That’s how the films plays out. Yes, the three of them escape the war. Steven returns home first, stunted, damaged. He’s petrified of the outside world, worried of his perception, feeling he can no longer be seen as noble. There’s also a scene in Vietnam, where Nicky finds Mike post-war, both still reeling from the chaos. Nicky sees him in a building where people are pitted in games of Russian roulette out of pure choice. It’s incredibly dystopian. For us, at least. But in Vietnam, it’s been used as a factor of amusement. Mike can’t bare the sight, so he returns home. He’s greeted with love, care. He goes deer hunting again, but can’t bring himself to shoot the deer. The violence of war offset him from ever bringing violence to something else, whether it be in the form of deer hunting, an activity that once brought him peace. Finally, there’s Nicky. He sends over reminders of his existence to Mike. But he himself, had no reason to return to America. The war has stuck with him, it’s a part of him. There’s no place else that he feels he’ll find comfort again. So he’s stuck where Mike last was in Vietnam. The aforementioned gambling den. Upon Mike’s eventual return to Vietnam, a move of care for a friend who he believed he’d have a mutual understanding with in this dreaded case of both missing something from their home. They’re ultimately changed men. But maybe Nicky doesn’t want to live this life as a new man. He sits in the chair to be next contender in a game of Russian Roulette, the scar that lays on them to this day. Mike joins him. They face each other, all Mike can say to him is the sincerest love, a friend who he can’t face the facts of being parted from him. Usurping the previous Russian Roulette scene’s intensity and emotional payoff, the bullet lands on Nicky, as all it took was one shot to kill him. The films ends with the original group from the wedding, a time they never felt more alive, gathered for the occasion of death, one detrimental to all. A song of patriotism is sang, the unconditional love for America rings true. It all concludes as we come to an understanding of the impact trauma had on the three protagonists. Steven will never feel like a true American man again, he has a long life of shame ahead, an uncontrollable one albeit, and it’s heartbreaking to see. Michael will never be at peace again, no matter how much love he can receive, the violence of war will forever spark and bring him back to a place of uncomfort. Nicky payed the price of his life, one not taken by war, but himself - America couldn’t be a home for him if he couldn’t escape the trauma of Vietnam.