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Follows the usual formula in putting a new recruit -- this time the first African-American (Cuba Gooding) after President Truman desegregates the Armed Forces -- through the U. S. Navy's deep-sea diver training program that is run by a racist zealot (Robert DeNiro). If the program weren't bad enough, it's got to be located in Bayonne, New Jersey.
There's nothing wrong with the performances. Robert De Niro activates his Southern accent and shouts gibberish effectively. Cuba Gooding, raised by a stern father as a poor black farm boy in the South, is the expectable paragon of rectitude. The girls -- one could hardly call them women -- are Charleze Theron and Lonette McKee. They have minor roles and are mostly there to argue that their men should exercise common sense. Other decent performers -- Powers Boothe and Hal Holbrook -- have even more perfunctory roles.
That's about it. Almost everything else could have been assembled by a computer. A ship is called a boat. Robert De Niro salutes indoors, uncovered. After a brutal assault on hospital personnel, he's transferred out of his outfit instead of being busted. Somebody shouts "I'm outta here" in the early 1950s. (Maybe it was a common expression at the time. If so, "my bad.") People address each other by rank -- "Lieutenant", "Boatswain's Mate," "Commander," as they do in the Army, whereas in the Navy they are simple "Mister" (if an officer) or addressed by their last name (if enlisted). I didn't bother to check if there was a rank called "Senior Master Chief" in 1950.
Cuba Gooding has a tough row to hoe. Everyone in the Navy, it seems, hates Negroes except for one guy from Wisconsin. He stutters and is held in contempt by the others in his class. It's like the scene in "Animal House", in which the applicant to a tony fraternity is asked to wait in a room with a Sikh, a black man, and a blind kid.
Gooding is an enlisted man, a second class petty officer. He manages to marry a beautiful woman who has just graduated from medical school. In one of their arguments she pleads with him. She just wants to be a doctor and he should join her, quit the Navy, and lead a quiet life. "And just let life pass you by?", he retorts. Yes. Yes, just be a doctor's spouse and let life pass you by. You can wave to it from the golf course in Boca Raton.
These kinds of flicks were common enough in World War II. "Bombardier," "Airial Gunner," that sort of thing. Cheap as they often were, they had some educational features. You learned something about becoming a bombardier or a gunner. Here, the technical details are skipped over, perhaps because the writer knew nothing about them (except Boyle's law, which we learned in high-school chemistry).
I couldn't follow what was happening during some of the emergencies without which a movie like this wouldn't exist. If I got the mechanical problems right, it was because I guessed correctly. The direction is no help either. The movie abounds in close ups, so many that they lose any dramatic impact they might have had. And the emergencies are confusing because they're ill focused.
Why go on? Want to see a better example of this kind of movie? Almost any will do -- except maybe "G. I. Jane", in which the abused hero is a heroin. Try the training camp scenes in "The Young Lions." There the victim is a Jew. Or try "From Here to Eternity," in which no easy sympathy buttons are pushed and the victim is a grown man who refuses to bend and who is active in bringing the conflict on, just like "Cool Hand Luke." No easy excuses are offered, because easy excuses are too easy.
Thoroughly formulaic, and not well done.


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