Jarhead

Director Sam Mendes, the man responsible for modern classics American Beauty and Revolutionary Road, almost always seems to know what he’s doing, be it heavy (Road to Perdition) or light (Away We Go). This is why his 2005 war film, Jarhead, is such a disappointment. The concept of the film is great and the cinematography is, at times, as beautiful as you’ll see in a war film. But damn, some of the attempts to make the film seem … err … hip, are embarrassing. The incessant use of unfitting, of-its-time music - used as an attempt to keep the movie light and fun - is so blatant and annoying that you can’t help but cringe. The playful moments amongst the Marines who make up the story of this film are borderline cheesy. Actually, they’re not borderline anything - they’re flat out cheese. 

This is a shame because, aside from the then-hip casting of leadman Jake Gyllenhaal (at the time a sudden cult figure thanks to Donnie Darko), the casting was great. The writing was great. The production was great. These few small mistakes keep Jarhead from being the best war film of the Naughts.

The story of Jarhead is simple. Our hero, Anthony Swofford (Gyllenhaal in his first major studio lead role), joins the Marines just as Operation Desert Shield is about to hit. He spends a lot of time adjusting and questioning what he’s doing, but even more time wondering what his girlfriend is doing back home. (We’re made to feel like this girlfriend of his is his everything - amusing, considering the character is 20 years old.) At the urging of Seargent Sykes (Jamie Foxx), Swofford becomes a Marine sniper, which he is very good at. He’s he part of an ace team of shooters, paired with the always excellent Peter Sarsgaard, as Cpl. Alan Troy.

The crew of Marines, led in rank by Sykes and spirit by Troy, almost never appear scared. Aside from Skarsgaard, who leads the way as far as acting, Lucas Black (as Chris Kruger) stands out. He’s a Texas boy who goes back and forth between airhead and the most reasonable man in his squad. At one point, when the Marines are discussing the point of the war, Kruger puts it straight: “I know these oil guys; I’ve been around them all my life. They drink oil like water. This is a war about money; we’re here to keep the oil cheap.”

No one believes him. Later in the film, when the soldiers are told to sign a waiver and take an untested pill that can supposedly fight the side effects of nuclear weapons, Kruger again stands up, spitting the pill out after fighting with Sykes. These are some of the most memorable scenes, not only because of the subject matter, but because Black (who most know as the young, twangy boy in Sling Blade), is a heck of an actor.

But don’t get excited, this isn’t an overly political film. There are points made here and there, but, mostly, the film attempts to show what it was like to be a Marine during Operation Desert Shield. The movie moves slow as we watch the Marines sit and wait. They foolishly hope for action as the days pass. There are side stories here and there (watching porn together, sneaking alcohol, accidentally burning up a tent full of explosives, etc.) that remind more of an American Pie movie than Apocalypse, Now.

But that’s okay, in a movie this slow, I’m guessing the producers and Mendes knew they’d need some cheap thrills. Personally, I’d rather have the film be shorter and less fluffy, but, when you cast Jake Gyllenhaal, you almost HAVE to bring the fluff. My personal favorite comedy bit, and maybe the only one that works in the entire film, happens when a helicopter flies over the Marines when they’re at their lowest point. As the helicopter passes, blaring the Doors song “Break On Through,” Swofford looks at the sky and says “that’s Vietnam music; can’t we get our own music?”

After about 80 minutes the film starts to pick up. Our crew of Marines are in the 112 degree desert, chasing a group of fire-happy Iraqi soldiers. The way cinematographer Roger Deakins (known mostly for his work on The Shawshank Redemption and every great Coen Brothers film) shoots the desert footage is amazing. I don’t want to give anything away, but will say that, between Skarsgaard’s powerful performance and Deakins’ cinematography, Jarhead is a must-see. Sometimes it feels like a painfully by-the-books war film and at other times it stands alone - thanks to Deakins’ amazing eye and mastery of his craft. (Towards the end we get to see some incredible footage of a desert filled with burning oil wells. It’s the kind of cinematic imagery film fans dreamt of before all this crazy CGI stuff became so standard. I recall being wide-eyed and out of breath through many of these scenes.)

Is there a big bang at the end? Does the suspense and conflict finally come as it does in, well, every war film ever? Well … maybe. Kinda. I don’t quite know how to explain it. I will say this: upon it’s initial release, the ending made the average movie-goer angry and many cinephile types happy. It’s uncompromising and subtle, which is strange when you consider how much, at times, it felt likes Mendes was trying to make an artsy war film for the popcorn crowd. Instead, he ends up with a film that is only a few cheap mistakes away from being a classic.

Jarhead is full of memorable lines, but is best summed up in the final minutes when Swofford says “every war is different; every war is the same.”   8.5/10

Written by G. William Locke