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We Were Soldiers, which is based on a true story, stars Mel Gibson as Lt. Colonel Harold Moore, an Air Cavalry commander who was one of the first U.S. soldiers to use helicopters in the Vietnam conflict. His idea of
dropping men in the middle of Vietcong territory was revolutionary in 1965, and it led to the first real battle involving American troops in Vietnam.

Before we get to Vietnam, though, the movie introduces us to the various characters. There's Moore's right-hand man, the older but still steely Basil Plumley (Sam Elliott), the cracker-jack helicopter pilot Bruce Crandall (Greg Kinnear), and the earnest and kind squad leader Jack Geoghegan (Chris Klein). We also get to meet their wives, Julie Moore (Madeliene Stowe) and Barbara Geoghegan (Keri Russell). The film's first act takes place on the base where Moore will train his men in the use of helicopters in combat. It also gives us a chance to see what a great family man Moore is, as he plays and prays with his brood. Most importantly, for the movie's agenda, is that it allows Moore a chance to make a number of rousing speeches to his men (and the audience).

Once the scene shifts to Vietnam, however, the tranquillity of family life on the base gives way to the horror of war. Moore and his men are dropped in a largely uncharted Vietnamese valley where they're told to pursue the
enemy, even though no one knows how many of the enemy there are. It turns out that there are a lot more of them than first thought, and Moore's men are pinned down. Despite reinforcements, the firefight stretches on for
three days, an eternity in battle.

The most immediate comparison is to Black Hawk Down which, though it's set in a conflict 25 years later, also examines the effect of a ferocious battle on the men who fought it. Both We Were Soldiers and Black Hawk Down feature American soldiers in a badly outnumbered situation, both are based on actual conflicts, and both feature gruesome special effects so as to bring home the horror of war. But there are important differences. Black Hawk Down is relentless, throwing the viewer into battle and never letting up; We Were Soldiers, by cutting to the homefront occasionally, gives momentary breaks in the action. The focus on the wives back home also adds a sentimental touch to We Were Soldiers that is absent from its counterpart. Whether that's a good thing will depend on your appreciation of sentimentality. Finally, We Were Soldiers is unabashedly patriotic.
Though it humanizes the Vietnamese more than other films of the genre have done, its sympathies are clearly with Mel Gibson and his men, valorizing them as the bravest of the brave and worthy of our complete respect.

If Black Hawk Down is the obvious counterpoint, the comparison that kept popping into my head was Apocalypse Now. In many ways Robert Duvall's Kilgore is just the mirror image of Harold Moore. Both men are fantastic leaders of an Air Cavalry unit in Vietnam, both command the ultimate respect of their soldiers, both are highly successful in battle (at least by their own terms), and both are maniacal in their commitment to the war.
The only difference is that Coppola's film forces us to see the irony in Kilgore's character--how his obsession with victory is matched by his obsession with surfing, how shallow is his understanding of the Vietnamese, and how his approach to the war highlights the meaninglessness of our involvement in southeast Asia.

There isn't a touch of irony in We Were Soldiers. Even if we question the wisdom of carrying American soldiers into a valley they know nothing about, once the battle starts we're supposed to support "our boys" 100%. When the Americans drop incendiary bombs (an effect that echoes directly back to Apocalypse Now), it's a necessary part of the operation and not a nihilistic exercise. And Mel Gibson's many speeches are meant to inspire us
with the bravery and commitment of U.S. soldiers, not make us question the decision of their leaders as Kilgore's words do.

In this way, We Were Soldiers is a simpler film with a more limited palette of emotions and a single-minded goal of elevating our impression of the men who serve in the military and of their wives who wait patiently back home. To the filmmakers' credit, the movie achieves these aims.

Mel Gibson brings his boyish charm and earnestness to the role of an Air Cav commander, and his screen presence is on full power. We believe that he is a man who is "the first to put his foot into battle and the last to
leave." Sam Elliott is also effective as the gruff second-in-command who barks at his men and is absolutely impenetrable in combat. The women don't have as much to do but appear faithful and true, a task they accomplish.

As is common in today's war movies, We Were Soldiers has some extremely gruesome moments that will not sit well with the squeamish. It also has some highly emotional moments that won't sit well with the stoic. Since I'm neither, I found this simple tale of bravery and heroism worth
recommending. 

J. Robert Parks 3/19/2002

While the Vietnam War remains a haunting and troubling chapter in American history, it has inspired a wide range of cinema, including some great films (Coppola’s Apocalypse Now, Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket.) We are drawn to the muddy moral dilemmas of the war. Should America have become involved? Was our objective worth the cost of so many lives? Or was it a civil war that we should have left well enough alone? What did we accomplish? Why do so many veterans tell horror stories not only about the combat with a resourceful enemy, but about the misbehavior of American soldiers? 

We Were Soldiers, the new film written and directed by Randall Wallace (who wrote Braveheart), may be distinguished as the Vietnam film devoid of any politics. It stands out from the pack of dark, cynical, and bleak portraits of the war, focusing on the virtues of men who will follow orders bravely. We watch the heroic Colonel Hal Moore lead a group of youngsters into the first major land battle in Vietnam, the bloody and chaotic disaster in the I Drang Valley which earned the name "the Valley of Death." As they sacrifice their lives, these Americans look more like the heroes of John Wayne films than the frightened fighters of Apocalypse Now or the soul-searching boys of Malick’s The Thin Red Line. But were they really, as the film claims, giving their lives "for their country"? Why did this battle have to happen?

The movie doesn’t say. This avoidance of political details has disgruntled some critics. "Essentially, We Were Soldiers assimilates Vietnam into the Second World War," argues David Denby (The New Yorker). "It recapitulates the many movies … which portrayed the Americans as good people fighting for a just cause. Only this time no one says what the cause is. Communism is never mentioned. Neither is China or Russia, and there's no sign of … the South Vietnamese. "I'm glad I can die for my country," one young soldier says, his face turning white as the life drains out of him. That unlikely line indicates what [the film] believes in—dying well as an American, and making a speech about it." 

Others, however, praise the central lesson of the film—that however suspicious the political context, American soldiers care about each other in a way that provokes them to bravery and selflessness. This is a story about how men worked together to achieve difficult objectives, defend their honor, and defend each other. Further, many praise Wallace’s respectful and even compassionate perspectives on the wives and children of the soldiers and on the Vietnamese soldiers "who died by our hand." 

Some are also impressed at the emphasis on faith. Lisa Schwarzbaum (Entertainment Weekly) writes: "Always grateful for instances in which expressions of specific religious faith are incorporated naturally in movies like the everyday occurrences they can be, rather than hysterically like the unidentified spiritual woowoo Hollywood usually thinks they have to be, I'm particularly refreshed by the delicacy with which Wallace and Gibson demonstrate the effect of Moore's Catholic faith on his character."

Religious press critics were particularly pleased with the film, largely because of its favorable portrayal of men with spiritual discipline.

Michael Elliott (Movie Parables) writes, "Wallace may very well have made the best Vietnam War film to date. In addition to the realistic depiction of war, he gives us clearly defined and compassionate characters, a look at the trying emotional times endured by the wives back home, and a hint at the poor decisions being made by American leaders unprepared for the war in which their country was now engaged."

I disagree. While I was indeed impressed by Wallace’s emphasis of Moore’s faith, the film’s violence struck me as excessive, taking valuable screen time that could have been used to develop other characters. Sure, it’s a war film, and combat is ugly. But eventually I quit thinking about the story and wondered, "How did they make that soldier’s head explode so convincingly? And how did that one burn up without injuring the stuntman?" The film might have been called 101 Ways Bullets Can Shred a Soldier. At one point, Moore shouts into his radio, "It’s getting pretty sporty down here!" Indeed—like a sports highlight reel of killings. Kirk Honeycutt (Hollywood Reporter) goes so far as to call the film "war pornography." Violence included merely to stir the emotions of the audience is gratuitous. 

I have been criticized for defending violent films before—gangster flicks like Pulp Fiction and Miller’s Crossing, and war films like Three Kings and Private Ryan, to name a few—but I only defend on screen violence when it moves the story forward and helps develop characters. Soldiers only has one well-developed character and about a thousand brutal on screen deaths. What Elliott describes as "clearly defined and compassionate characters" seemed to me to be anonymous action figures being ripped apart—in grisly slow motion—by enemy fire, one after the other. 

Saving Private Ryan has set a new standard for combat realism in war films. "Gory details" worked for Spielberg because his attention to detail extended to the soldiers’ personalities and personal histories as well. Several years later, I still remember vivid distinguishing characteristics of each man in that squad. I remember their stories, what fears they overcame, and how they responded to their commander in subtly different ways. But I can’t tell you any interesting anecdotes about Colonel Moore’s brave boys, and I saw it just yesterday. Wallace has advanced the science of fake bloodshed, but who will come along to advance the storytelling? 

To be fair, there are three memorable performances here. In his best performance since Hamlet, Gibson is the backbone of the film. Colonel Moore is given a lot of general personal details: he’s devoutly Catholic, hard working, and devoted to his wife and kids. By avoiding his trademark macho expressions, Gibson makes Moore a real character. You never see that legendary Gibson rage—you know the moment—that instant when he turns from the scene of a tragedy and rises, eyes half-closed, jaw set, ready to unleash fury with a rifle or a sword or a hatchet. Instead, he charges in and does his job amidst a hail of bullets. He’s riveting. 

Gibson gets help from Private Ryan’s sharpshooter Barry Pepper, who brings personality to the mix as a bold journalist in the film’s last, long 30 minutes. But the delight of Soldiers is the legendary Sam Elliott. Elliott makes the most of the film’s few flashes of humor, bringing fresh life to conventional combat scenes. Unfortunately, his scenes are few and far between. 

Soldiers is being praised for portraying the struggle of frightened, grieving wives. I didn’t see memorable women; I saw a bunch of actresses given nothing to do but scowl, cry, and offer small talk about laundry and babies. Most women I know would be offended by such a shallow portrayal of womanhood. As Moore’s wife, the wonderful Madeleine Stowe has nothing to do but worry, wring her hands, and offer a teary-eyed gaze of sympathy to the other wives. Another of the film’s many missed opportunities.

At the conclusion of Soldiers, a devastated Colonel Moore exhorts the journalist, "Tell the American people how my troopers died." Oh, We Were Soldiers definitely does that, ad nauseum. But it doesn’t bother at all to tell us how they lived. If I were a wounded Vietnam veteran and somebody asked to make a film that would honor me, I would ask them, "Please, show something more about me than how my face burned away."

Copyright (c) 2001  by Jeffrey Overstreet. Reproduction for non-commercial use is permitted, provided the material is not altered, and provided that the copyright notice is retained.
 
 

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