In my opinion this is Kubrick's most misunderstood work. Critics at its release were put off by the lack of emotional drama and perceived sterility, especially when compared to Platoon. Today's critics call it a masterpiece (it gets a 94% at Rotten Tomatoes) for its "innocence lost" and human duality themes
and intelligent direction (like that's a surprise to anyone). Audiences seem to love the first act, finding it either funny or terrifying, but are apathetic to the following acts.
To be sure, this is unmistakably Kubrick. Beyond his career's leitmotif of dehumanization being clearly apparent and his trademark long tracking shots and wide-angle view lie his determination to ask questions without providing answers and his insistence on making us look under the hood, to be active audiences, to reveal his complete intent.
This is not "Innocence Lost", it is innocence brutally, abusively and politically crushed and ripped from boys so that they become an inhuman, unfeeling and interchangeable cache of war materiel. And it is not about the duality of our nature, born to kill and striving for peace. Kubrick uses those two poles to frame broader existential questions: who are we as individuals and as society? In other words, Jacket is, like most of Stanley's mature work, less about story and more about who we, the audience, are. Yes, the film is shot in a cold, distanced and removed style, but there is exquisite purpose in that which I will get into later.
Act I is almost war movie cliche, especially to 21st century audiences. We have seen this story of young men plucked from life and being drilled at boot camp in so many movies before and after Jacket. In contrast with those other movies, the drill sergeant here has no kindly, father-figure inside the hard exterior. Within this, it's hard to use the word, man, there is but abuse, invective, domination and singularity of purpose. He is a machine of the government, breaking people down, eliminating their identity and their capacity for individual thought. Even gender is replaced as recruits become ladies whose only fulfillment can come through the phallus of a rifle. He carries his task out amid ruthless bellowing of creative profanity in words and ideas; normal communication can only happen in secret. His is a world of order; repetition of drills, neat rows of ladies, neat rows of bunks, of lights, of tiles.
Kubrick reinforces this order through stark white sets and point of view. The sets and outdoor shots are over-illuminated to create a flat palette where little can stand out. Scene setups and camera angles are repeated over and over, giving us limited views of the ladies. The lone exception to this is Private Gomer, in a tremendous performance by Vincent D'Onofrio. He is the chaos, first too inept and then too far gone. Gomer we see from a multitude of camera angles.
I find Act I to be the most terrifying 45 minutes of film I have ever seen, in no small measure because some parts make me laugh. How could I possibly laugh at any of this? Like Clockwork and, to a lesser extent, 2001, Kubrick, the supposedly cold and cerebral director, proves a master at manipulating audiences' emotion.
After the climax of Act I the story jumps to Viet Nam where nothing is familiar. The only link between Acts I and II is Private Joker, now a reporter for Stars and Stripes looking for some real action along with his cameraman, Rafterman. The narrative takes the feel of unrelated vignettes but there is still an overall structure if you either pay attention or watch the film an unhealthy (?) number of times. I didn't get this for a while. Act II presents the application of the government's newly-minted tools of war. Here politics takes over for the drill instructor in the role of the oppressor attempting to create a new reality. Since the pieces are interchangeable there is no need to carry characters over from Act I. War, however, refuses to assimilate into the desired order. Personalities begin to appear where none were allowed and camera movement begins to flow more naturally. Just then a prostitute steals Rafterman's camera. This ends Act II.
Act III centers on a film crew interviewing soldiers, but the narrative is odd. What has happened is that the prostitute didn't steal Rafterman's camera, she stole Kubrick's! Act III is all about trying to restore order, with the government's camera recording only what it wants us to see. One soldier after another spouts cliched war hero crap that is totally meaningless until war again disrupts the government's attempt to control reality. Act III concludes with a prostitute leading soldiers one by one into a cinema, where Stanley's camera can resume presenting the war that was real.away from the government's view.
Act IV takes place in the bombed out city of Hue. Joker's squad gets lost and pinned down by sniper fire, with no possibility of getting reinforcements. While this sounds like common war movie fodder, Kubrick presents a constant stream of moral choices without resorting to creating a hero figure to show us the answers. There is no redemption as in his early film Paths of Glory or as in Platoon's bond of brothers. There are only questions.
In my opinion this is Kubrick's most misunderstood work. Critics at its release were put off by the lack of emotional drama and perceived sterility, especially when compared to Platoon. Today's critics call it a masterpiece (it gets a 94% at Rotten Tomatoes) for its "innocence lost" and human duality themes and intelligent direction (like that's a surprise to anyone). Audiences seem to love the first act, finding it either funny or terrifying, but are apathetic to the following acts.
To be sure, this is unmistakably Kubrick. Beyond his career's leitmotif of dehumanization being clearly apparent and his trademark long tracking shots and wide-angle view lie his determination to ask questions without providing answers and his insistence on making us look under the hood, to be active audiences, to reveal his complete intent.
This is not "Innocence Lost", it is innocence brutally, abusively and politically crushed and ripped from boys so that they become an inhuman, unfeeling and interchangeable cache of war materiel. And it is not about the duality of our nature, born to kill and striving for peace. Kubrick uses those two poles to frame broader existential questions: who are we as individuals and as society? In other words, Jacket is, like most of Stanley's mature work, less about story and more about who we, the audience, are. Yes, the film is shot in a cold, distanced and removed style, but there is exquisite purpose in that which I will get into later.
Act I is almost war movie cliche, especially to 21st century audiences. We have seen this story of young men plucked from life and being drilled at boot camp in so many movies before and after Jacket. In contrast with those other movies, the drill sergeant here has no kindly, father-figure inside the hard exterior. Within this, it's hard to use the word, man, there is but abuse, invective, domination and singularity of purpose. He is a machine of the government, breaking people down, eliminating their identity and their capacity for individual thought. Even gender is replaced as recruits become ladies whose only fulfillment can come through the phallus of a rifle. He carries his task out amid ruthless bellowing of creative profanity in words and ideas; normal communication can only happen in secret. His is a world of order; repetition of drills, neat rows of ladies, neat rows of bunks, of lights, of tiles.
Kubrick reinforces this order through stark white sets and point of view. The sets and outdoor shots are over-illuminated to create a flat palette where little can stand out. Scene setups and camera angles are repeated over and over, giving us limited views of the ladies. The lone exception to this is Private Gomer, in a tremendous performance by Vincent D'Onofrio. He is the chaos, first too inept and then too far gone. Gomer we see from a multitude of camera angles.
I find Act I to be the most terrifying 45 minutes of film I have ever seen, in no small measure because some parts make me laugh. How could I possibly laugh at any of this? Like Clockwork and, to a lesser extent, 2001, Kubrick, the supposedly cold and cerebral director, proves a master at manipulating audiences' emotion.
After the climax of Act I the story jumps to Viet Nam where nothing is familiar. The only link between Acts I and II is Private Joker, now a reporter for Stars and Stripes looking for some real action along with his cameraman, Rafterman. The narrative takes the feel of unrelated vignettes but there is still an overall structure if you either pay attention or watch the film an unhealthy (?) number of times. I didn't get this for a while. Act II presents the application of the government's newly-minted tools of war. Here politics takes over for the drill instructor in the role of the oppressor attempting to create a new reality. Since the pieces are interchangeable there is no need to carry characters over from Act I. War, however, refuses to assimilate into the desired order. Personalities begin to appear where none were allowed and camera movement begins to flow more naturally. Just then a prostitute steals Rafterman's camera. This ends Act II.
Act III centers on a film crew interviewing soldiers, but the narrative is odd. What has happened is that the prostitute didn't steal Rafterman's camera, she stole Kubrick's! Act III is all about trying to restore order, with the government's camera recording only what it wants us to see. One soldier after another spouts cliched war hero crap that is totally meaningless until war again disrupts the government's attempt to control reality. Act III concludes with a prostitute leading soldiers one by one into a cinema, where Stanley's camera can resume presenting the war that was real.away from the government's view.
Act IV takes place in the bombed out city of Hue. Joker's squad gets lost and pinned down by sniper fire, with no possibility of getting reinforcements. While this sounds like common war movie fodder, Kubrick presents a constant stream of moral choices without resorting to creating a hero figure to show us the answers. There is no redemption as in his early film Paths of Glory or as in Platoon's bond of brothers. There are only questions.
So what is a Full Metal Jacket? Is it just a live rifle round as Private Gomer explains, an explosive charge propelling a metal bullet? Does it describe Kubrick's camera, armor-plated to capture all while judging nothing as so many critics say? Dave Kehr, critic for the Chicago Tribune, observes,
"The only two explicit point-of-view shots in ``Full Metal Jacket`` are linked to the telescopic sight of a sniper`s rifle and the unblinking glass eye of a television reporter`s camera. These are machine eyes, taking everything in but betraying nothing, like the red-tinted fish-eye lenses that were the computer Hal`s ``eyes`` in ``2001.``
Does his "God's eye" view protect Kubrick from the need to moralize? Is he protecting, putting a full metal jacket around, himself and us to protect us from the horror of war and what it does to us? Or is he suggesting that his film is a live round, a weapon in the arsenal of anti-war sympathizers?
I suggest something much deeper. Stanley Kubrick uses "Full Metal Jacket" as a mirror reflecting back on us. This is a test. Does his detached directorial style insulate us from the horror and outrage of what is in front of us? Are we so callous that we cannot care unless the director tugs at our emotions? Is our humanity encased in a full metal jacket capable of destruction as in the climax of Act I? Or is your empathy, your humanity, capable of breaking through the cold and distant portrayal of events? Watch the film and search your soul for the answer then decide if you are satisfied with that picture of who you are.
So what is a Full Metal Jacket? Is it just a live rifle round as Private Gomer explains, an explosive charge propelling a metal bullet? Does it describe Kubrick's camera, armor-plated to capture all while judging nothing as so many critics say? Dave Kehr, critic for the Chicago Tribune, observes,
"The only two explicit point-of-view shots in ``Full Metal Jacket`` are linked to the telescopic sight of a sniper`s rifle and the unblinking glass eye of a television reporter`s camera. These are machine eyes, taking everything in but betraying nothing, like the red-tinted fish-eye lenses that were the computer Hal`s ``eyes`` in ``2001.``
Does his "God's eye" view protect Kubrick from the need to moralize? Is he protecting, putting a full metal jacket around, himself and us to protect us from the horror of war and what it does to us? Or is he suggesting that his film is a live round, a weapon in the arsenal of anti-war sympathizers?
I suggest something much deeper. Stanley Kubrick uses "Full Metal Jacket" as a mirror reflecting back on us. This is a test. Does his detached directorial style insulate us from the horror and outrage of what is in front of us? Are we so callous that we cannot care unless the director tugs at our emotions? Is our humanity encased in a full metal jacket capable of destruction as in the climax of Act I? Or is your empathy, your humanity, capable of breaking through the cold and distant portrayal of events? Watch the film and search your soul for the answer then decide if you are satisfied with that picture of who you are.
To be sure, this is unmistakably Kubrick. Beyond his career's leitmotif of dehumanization being clearly apparent and his trademark long tracking shots and wide-angle view lie his determination to ask questions without providing answers and his insistence on making us look under the hood, to be active audiences, to reveal his complete intent.
This is not "Innocence Lost", it is innocence brutally, abusively and politically crushed and ripped from boys so that they become an inhuman, unfeeling and interchangeable cache of war materiel. And it is not about the duality of our nature, born to kill and striving for peace. Kubrick uses those two poles to frame broader existential questions: who are we as individuals and as society? In other words, Jacket is, like most of Stanley's mature work, less about story and more about who we, the audience, are. Yes, the film is shot in a cold, distanced and removed style, but there is exquisite purpose in that which I will get into later.
Act I is almost war movie cliche, especially to 21st century audiences. We have seen this story of young men plucked from life and being drilled at boot camp in so many movies before and after Jacket. In contrast with those other movies, the drill sergeant here has no kindly, father-figure inside the hard exterior. Within this, it's hard to use the word, man, there is but abuse, invective, domination and singularity of purpose. He is a machine of the government, breaking people down, eliminating their identity and their capacity for individual thought. Even gender is replaced as recruits become ladies whose only fulfillment can come through the phallus of a rifle. He carries his task out amid ruthless bellowing of creative profanity in words and ideas; normal communication can only happen in secret. His is a world of order; repetition of drills, neat rows of ladies, neat rows of bunks, of lights, of tiles.
Kubrick reinforces this order through stark white sets and point of view. The sets and outdoor shots are over-illuminated to create a flat palette where little can stand out. Scene setups and camera angles are repeated over and over, giving us limited views of the ladies. The lone exception to this is Private Gomer, in a tremendous performance by Vincent D'Onofrio. He is the chaos, first too inept and then too far gone. Gomer we see from a multitude of camera angles.
I find Act I to be the most terrifying 45 minutes of film I have ever seen, in no small measure because some parts make me laugh. How could I possibly laugh at any of this? Like Clockwork and, to a lesser extent, 2001, Kubrick, the supposedly cold and cerebral director, proves a master at manipulating audiences' emotion.
After the climax of Act I the story jumps to Viet Nam where nothing is familiar. The only link between Acts I and II is Private Joker, now a reporter for Stars and Stripes looking for some real action along with his cameraman, Rafterman. The narrative takes the feel of unrelated vignettes but there is still an overall structure if you either pay attention or watch the film an unhealthy (?) number of times. I didn't get this for a while. Act II presents the application of the government's newly-minted tools of war. Here politics takes over for the drill instructor in the role of the oppressor attempting to create a new reality. Since the pieces are interchangeable there is no need to carry characters over from Act I. War, however, refuses to assimilate into the desired order. Personalities begin to appear where none were allowed and camera movement begins to flow more naturally. Just then a prostitute steals Rafterman's camera. This ends Act II.
Act III centers on a film crew interviewing soldiers, but the narrative is odd. What has happened is that the prostitute didn't steal Rafterman's camera, she stole Kubrick's! Act III is all about trying to restore order, with the government's camera recording only what it wants us to see. One soldier after another spouts cliched war hero crap that is totally meaningless until war again disrupts the government's attempt to control reality. Act III concludes with a prostitute leading soldiers one by one into a cinema, where Stanley's camera can resume presenting the war that was real.away from the government's view.
Act IV takes place in the bombed out city of Hue. Joker's squad gets lost and pinned down by sniper fire, with no possibility of getting reinforcements. While this sounds like common war movie fodder, Kubrick presents a constant stream of moral choices without resorting to creating a hero figure to show us the answers. There is no redemption as in his early film Paths of Glory or as in Platoon's bond of brothers. There are only questions.
In my opinion this is Kubrick's most misunderstood work. Critics at its release were put off by the lack of emotional drama and perceived sterility, especially when compared to Platoon. Today's critics call it a masterpiece (it gets a 94% at Rotten Tomatoes) for its "innocence lost" and human duality themes and intelligent direction (like that's a surprise to anyone). Audiences seem to love the first act, finding it either funny or terrifying, but are apathetic to the following acts.
To be sure, this is unmistakably Kubrick. Beyond his career's leitmotif of dehumanization being clearly apparent and his trademark long tracking shots and wide-angle view lie his determination to ask questions without providing answers and his insistence on making us look under the hood, to be active audiences, to reveal his complete intent.
This is not "Innocence Lost", it is innocence brutally, abusively and politically crushed and ripped from boys so that they become an inhuman, unfeeling and interchangeable cache of war materiel. And it is not about the duality of our nature, born to kill and striving for peace. Kubrick uses those two poles to frame broader existential questions: who are we as individuals and as society? In other words, Jacket is, like most of Stanley's mature work, less about story and more about who we, the audience, are. Yes, the film is shot in a cold, distanced and removed style, but there is exquisite purpose in that which I will get into later.
Act I is almost war movie cliche, especially to 21st century audiences. We have seen this story of young men plucked from life and being drilled at boot camp in so many movies before and after Jacket. In contrast with those other movies, the drill sergeant here has no kindly, father-figure inside the hard exterior. Within this, it's hard to use the word, man, there is but abuse, invective, domination and singularity of purpose. He is a machine of the government, breaking people down, eliminating their identity and their capacity for individual thought. Even gender is replaced as recruits become ladies whose only fulfillment can come through the phallus of a rifle. He carries his task out amid ruthless bellowing of creative profanity in words and ideas; normal communication can only happen in secret. His is a world of order; repetition of drills, neat rows of ladies, neat rows of bunks, of lights, of tiles.
Kubrick reinforces this order through stark white sets and point of view. The sets and outdoor shots are over-illuminated to create a flat palette where little can stand out. Scene setups and camera angles are repeated over and over, giving us limited views of the ladies. The lone exception to this is Private Gomer, in a tremendous performance by Vincent D'Onofrio. He is the chaos, first too inept and then too far gone. Gomer we see from a multitude of camera angles.
I find Act I to be the most terrifying 45 minutes of film I have ever seen, in no small measure because some parts make me laugh. How could I possibly laugh at any of this? Like Clockwork and, to a lesser extent, 2001, Kubrick, the supposedly cold and cerebral director, proves a master at manipulating audiences' emotion.
After the climax of Act I the story jumps to Viet Nam where nothing is familiar. The only link between Acts I and II is Private Joker, now a reporter for Stars and Stripes looking for some real action along with his cameraman, Rafterman. The narrative takes the feel of unrelated vignettes but there is still an overall structure if you either pay attention or watch the film an unhealthy (?) number of times. I didn't get this for a while. Act II presents the application of the government's newly-minted tools of war. Here politics takes over for the drill instructor in the role of the oppressor attempting to create a new reality. Since the pieces are interchangeable there is no need to carry characters over from Act I. War, however, refuses to assimilate into the desired order. Personalities begin to appear where none were allowed and camera movement begins to flow more naturally. Just then a prostitute steals Rafterman's camera. This ends Act II.
Act III centers on a film crew interviewing soldiers, but the narrative is odd. What has happened is that the prostitute didn't steal Rafterman's camera, she stole Kubrick's! Act III is all about trying to restore order, with the government's camera recording only what it wants us to see. One soldier after another spouts cliched war hero crap that is totally meaningless until war again disrupts the government's attempt to control reality. Act III concludes with a prostitute leading soldiers one by one into a cinema, where Stanley's camera can resume presenting the war that was real.away from the government's view.
Act IV takes place in the bombed out city of Hue. Joker's squad gets lost and pinned down by sniper fire, with no possibility of getting reinforcements. While this sounds like common war movie fodder, Kubrick presents a constant stream of moral choices without resorting to creating a hero figure to show us the answers. There is no redemption as in his early film Paths of Glory or as in Platoon's bond of brothers. There are only questions.
So what is a Full Metal Jacket? Is it just a live rifle round as Private Gomer explains, an explosive charge propelling a metal bullet? Does it describe Kubrick's camera, armor-plated to capture all while judging nothing as so many critics say? Dave Kehr, critic for the Chicago Tribune, observes,
"The only two explicit point-of-view shots in ``Full Metal Jacket`` are linked to the telescopic sight of a sniper`s rifle and the unblinking glass eye of a television reporter`s camera. These are machine eyes, taking everything in but betraying nothing, like the red-tinted fish-eye lenses that were the computer Hal`s ``eyes`` in ``2001.``
Does his "God's eye" view protect Kubrick from the need to moralize? Is he protecting, putting a full metal jacket around, himself and us to protect us from the horror of war and what it does to us? Or is he suggesting that his film is a live round, a weapon in the arsenal of anti-war sympathizers?
I suggest something much deeper. Stanley Kubrick uses "Full Metal Jacket" as a mirror reflecting back on us. This is a test. Does his detached directorial style insulate us from the horror and outrage of what is in front of us? Are we so callous that we cannot care unless the director tugs at our emotions? Is our humanity encased in a full metal jacket capable of destruction as in the climax of Act I? Or is your empathy, your humanity, capable of breaking through the cold and distant portrayal of events? Watch the film and search your soul for the answer then decide if you are satisfied with that picture of who you are.
So what is a Full Metal Jacket? Is it just a live rifle round as Private Gomer explains, an explosive charge propelling a metal bullet? Does it describe Kubrick's camera, armor-plated to capture all while judging nothing as so many critics say? Dave Kehr, critic for the Chicago Tribune, observes,
"The only two explicit point-of-view shots in ``Full Metal Jacket`` are linked to the telescopic sight of a sniper`s rifle and the unblinking glass eye of a television reporter`s camera. These are machine eyes, taking everything in but betraying nothing, like the red-tinted fish-eye lenses that were the computer Hal`s ``eyes`` in ``2001.``
Does his "God's eye" view protect Kubrick from the need to moralize? Is he protecting, putting a full metal jacket around, himself and us to protect us from the horror of war and what it does to us? Or is he suggesting that his film is a live round, a weapon in the arsenal of anti-war sympathizers?
I suggest something much deeper. Stanley Kubrick uses "Full Metal Jacket" as a mirror reflecting back on us. This is a test. Does his detached directorial style insulate us from the horror and outrage of what is in front of us? Are we so callous that we cannot care unless the director tugs at our emotions? Is our humanity encased in a full metal jacket capable of destruction as in the climax of Act I? Or is your empathy, your humanity, capable of breaking through the cold and distant portrayal of events? Watch the film and search your soul for the answer then decide if you are satisfied with that picture of who you are.
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