I doubt that there ever has been or ever will be a greater movie made about the Vietnam War than "The Deer Hunter." The film succeeds not only in its truthful portrayal of how the "police action" brutally affected the ordinary lives of everyday Americans, but also in the subtle way in which the story is told. Whereas most Vietnam films have a tenancy to deliver their message in a strident and sometimes heavy-handed way, "The Deer Hunter" refrains from overdramatic moments where the characters break out into soapbox monologues about the horrors and immorality of war. It does not hit the same pot-holes that some generally well-made movies on the subject (such as "Apocalypse Now," most of Oliver Stone's contributions, and, for that matter, the same year's "Coming Home") have encountered. Rather, it respects the intelligence of its characters and its audience.
The people in the story are lower-class citizens who are content with their existence and do not think much of the world outside of their small Pennsylvania town. They volunteer for service in Vietnam because they still hold on to the belief of the pride and dignity of serving one's country in battle. The first act of the film concentrates on the strength found in male bonding, marriage, and sport. The story then cuts immediately to Vietnam. It does not bother with scenes involving sign-up, training, or deportment; instead, it gives the viewer a feeling of interruption, with the characters yanked out of their homely lifestyle and dropped into the middle of raging chaos. The prison camp scenes arrive with a quick, horrific shock. We ask, are these the same guys who were dancing at the wedding just twenty minutes ago?
Some critics have noted that there were no actual incidents of Russian-Roulette being forced on prisoners or played for past-time. Fine, that doesn't matter. It is used as a symbol of the random destructiveness that accompanies war; not simply in the physical death of the body, but the emotional death of sanity and spirit. The three men survive the camp and escape to safety, but they are not the same inside. Something about them was, indeed, left for dead on the battlefield. Nick (Christopher Walken) has lost touch with reality and can only live on in Vietnam through chance and violence. Steven (John Savage) is laid-up in a vet hospital after losing his legs and is afraid to return to his wife. Mike (Robert De Niro) is the only one who returns home, and is shrouded in a silent, withdrawn attitude that cannot be penetrated. The only person he really responds to is Linda (Meryl Streep), Nick's girlfriend, who provides him with sexual comfort. Mike has too much difficulty trying to re-connect with his old pals and eventually realizes that he cannot be a whole person again unless he brings Nick home. We often see De Niro in roles where his character is mentally unhinged and physically destructive, but here he displays a strong-and-silent performance in the style of Gary Cooper.
The final scene expresses a kind of patriotism that had not been present in film since the days of John Ford, and has rarely been seen since (if at all). The idea of getting such a fine cast to sit around a table and sing "God Bless America" may sound hokey, but it works perfectly when placed at the end of this story. Not once in the entire film is the audience yelled at or a message hammered into their heads. "The Deer Hunter" is a passionate, meaningful, and understated masterpiece.
The people in the story are lower-class citizens who are content with their existence and do not think much of the world outside of their small Pennsylvania town. They volunteer for service in Vietnam because they still hold on to the belief of the pride and dignity of serving one's country in battle. The first act of the film concentrates on the strength found in male bonding, marriage, and sport. The story then cuts immediately to Vietnam. It does not bother with scenes involving sign-up, training, or deportment; instead, it gives the viewer a feeling of interruption, with the characters yanked out of their homely lifestyle and dropped into the middle of raging chaos. The prison camp scenes arrive with a quick, horrific shock. We ask, are these the same guys who were dancing at the wedding just twenty minutes ago?
Some critics have noted that there were no actual incidents of Russian-Roulette being forced on prisoners or played for past-time. Fine, that doesn't matter. It is used as a symbol of the random destructiveness that accompanies war; not simply in the physical death of the body, but the emotional death of sanity and spirit. The three men survive the camp and escape to safety, but they are not the same inside. Something about them was, indeed, left for dead on the battlefield. Nick (Christopher Walken) has lost touch with reality and can only live on in Vietnam through chance and violence. Steven (John Savage) is laid-up in a vet hospital after losing his legs and is afraid to return to his wife. Mike (Robert De Niro) is the only one who returns home, and is shrouded in a silent, withdrawn attitude that cannot be penetrated. The only person he really responds to is Linda (Meryl Streep), Nick's girlfriend, who provides him with sexual comfort. Mike has too much difficulty trying to re-connect with his old pals and eventually realizes that he cannot be a whole person again unless he brings Nick home. We often see De Niro in roles where his character is mentally unhinged and physically destructive, but here he displays a strong-and-silent performance in the style of Gary Cooper.
The final scene expresses a kind of patriotism that had not been present in film since the days of John Ford, and has rarely been seen since (if at all). The idea of getting such a fine cast to sit around a table and sing "God Bless America" may sound hokey, but it works perfectly when placed at the end of this story. Not once in the entire film is the audience yelled at or a message hammered into their heads. "The Deer Hunter" is a passionate, meaningful, and understated masterpiece.