magic realism on cinema!

Rating: 8/10 (28 October 1999)

Francis Ford Coppola's "Apocalypse Now" is a brilliant piece of poetry on celluloid that depicts the utter insanity of war. Often revolting, sometimes rambling, frequently luxuriantly beautiful, at times poetic, this film portrays the horrors of war like no other film in living memory has. With liberal sprinkling of literary allusions, poetry, classical music and haunting rock-n-roll, the film is, without a shade of doubt, a sublime creation by a master of his craft.
I have read multiple reviews which harp on the fact that the film is historically inaccurate, that Coppola was not sure of the ending, and that it is devoid of any one special idea. It is possible that this is so, but surely any attempt at depicting lunacy must necessarily deviate from the normal. The artist is entitled to the liberty of using all possible means - although apparently meaningless to others - to achieve his end. Towards that end, it is clear, even to the casual observer, that this is an intensely personal film that mirrors some of the beliefs and convictions of the film-maker. Coppola could not have made this film sitting in a Hollywod studio - he must have spilled his blood and guts out on location.
Viewers looking to find Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" in the film might be disappointed, and not without reason. The film is only loosely based on that story, and the director has modified the novel to suit his storyline. But that does not take away anything from the languid beauty of the film. As you follow Willard down the river, and witness one act of insanity after another, you realise that for realistic portrayal of horror, this film is an unparalleled achievement. Using the magnificent locales to its advantage (embellished with haunting cinematography - sometimes surreal, sometimes terrifying) this film best incorporates some of the elements of magic realism (as inspired by the works of Freud, Joyce, Dali and Garcia-Marquez).
To expect the same attributes in this film as those which make up some of the other so-called classics, and therefore to use the same established set of parameters to judge it would be a folly. Like all art, it too is often inscrutable and ambiguous, sometimes dubious, and almost always open to interpretations. But sometimes, even life is like that.