A Powerful Statement on the Psyche of the Warrior

Rating: 9/10 (29 November 2007)

“A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterward he turns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle.”
This is the essence of Jarhead. It’s not about peace, it’s not about war. It’s not about governments, Iraq, or morality. It’s about the people, those who are bred and trained to kill someone and the ramifications of that instruction.
Make no mistake about it; a human does not inherently want to kill. Studies have shown that there is an impulse that makes a person hesitate before killing another (whether this is nature or nurture is another argument). All armies understand this; the way they take a civilian and turn them into a soldier is by beating and sweating it out of their recruits until they are a well-oiled machine. But what happens to these men when this part of their being is torn from their bodies?
As Swofford (played subtly but sublimely by Jake Gyllenhaal) goes from boot camp to sniper school to Iraq and then home again, we see thousands of images of destruction and the loss of innocence as these men are bred to kill. Swoff’s family, wrecked by his father’s ruined psyche (incurred from Vietnam). Swoff hit by his drill sergeant for uttering an independent (and anti-authoritarian) thought. Swoff laying in the mud as Staff Sgt. Sykes (Jaime Foxx) chews out a dead man who, while training with live fire, could not control his urge to run and as a result, got killed. Swoff and the marines cheering on the Valkyries of Apocalypse Now. Swoff almost killing a friend because the poor guy messed up.
Marines (the Jarheads, that is) don't see this as bad. When Swoff is transferred and stumbles upon a man being branded, he believes that he, too, is to be branded. Troy, played by Peter Sarsgaard, tells him not to worry; to be a part of this glorious tradition, he has to earn it.
And Swoff laps it all up. He’s hooked. He wants to see the Pink Mist, the splatter of brains when the sniper hits his mark.
Sam Mendes (director of American Beauty and Road to Perdition) lays it on a bit thick at parts, but it’s necessary to the point being made. Endless seas of sand reflect the boredom of the soldiers as they await their orders. A horse walking through a burning oil field, covered in petroleum, sees Swofford and the two become one. White and non-white soldiers channel their will to fight through a scorpion fight. And in the end, it all breaks down when they finally see some action, just as the war is ending.
Why does Troy break down in the end? Why, when the responsibility of picking off an Iraqi official is taken away from him, does he attack his commanding officer? He won't even take the shot; that’s Swoff’s job. And yet, Troy breaks down and weeps. Because the one thing in life that he is good at, the one thing that he has been training himself for and desires, has been taken away from him. He has it in his grasp and it is taken away by the very people who taught him to do it.
And what about Sykes? He’s not the typical superior officer: he’s not R.Lee Ermey’s near-psychotic Drill Instructor, even though he humiliates Swoff for trying out for bugling (again, to show contempt for the non-marine, the innocent), nor is he a strict father-figure in the vein of Lee Marvin’s Major Reisman, although he does give good instruction and even speaks to Swoff man-to-man on one occasion. But what does he say? He could have a house, a car, a job with a great income, sleep with his wife every night, and time with his kids. So why is he here? “Because I love this job,” he says. “I thank God for every (expletive deleted) day he gives me in the corps. Hoorah.” This is both a parody of militaristic bravado by Sykes’s character and also an affirmation that he could not leave his job killing people even if given the choice.
So, what is it about this film that sticks out to me? The imagery is powerful, from the burning oil fields to the magic walls that open and close as they reveal pieces (or broken fragments, more likely) of home. The character development is also powerful, fully crafting over a dozen multi-dimensional marines (some for and some against the war) in a time when other films barely make one memorable character. But in the end, it’s the lack of answers. These men ask powerful questions – who runs the country, what am I fighting for, what are we going to do – not just of themselves or the situation or the audience, but of the soldier’s life overall. Beginning with conception, going through the boredom and terror of war, and ending when they return home, fulfilled and unfulfilled at the same time.
But even the end will not be the end for these Jarheads. After the war ends, Swoff and the men go home to find themselves in a parade. This is the joyous front, where people celebrate the warrior for a job well-done. Then they are faced with the dark half when a Vietnam vet jumps on their bus and salutes them. They are faced not with an option, but a mirror. This man – this sweaty, torn, and pathetic man – can’t escape Vietnam, even twenty years later, even when the country and his countrymen have forgotten him. And this is their future – Swoff, Sykes, and even Troy (despite getting branded and thus accepted) – without option. Their hands will always remember the rifle.