Uncommon Valor

At the end of the Vietnam War, loose ends abound with distressing familiarity, notably American Prisoners or War left behind, including one Colonel Jason Rhodes's (Gene Hackman) only son (Todd Allen as Frank Rhodes). 

Negotiations ploddingly proceed with no concrete results diplomatically forthcoming, grieving loved ones left with nothing to hold onto but sterile rhetoric and ineffective bureaucracy.

Rhodes grows tired of the process and decides to find an alternative solution, taking off for Bangkok posthaste in a valiant effort to locate his son.

Disappointment flourishes eruditely as the years interminably pass, until a definitive lead finally reckons with commanding tactile vehemence.

A team of dedicated soldiers soon gathers to train for the mission, even if they lack the army's support and must rely on private funding.

Colonel Rhodes's son has been found but government reps seek to halt the proceedings, by continuously harassing his honourable efforts and eventually confiscating his gear in southern Asia.

The only way to refinance their mission is to spend every dime they have.

And move forward together as one. 

Back into the heart of the jungle.

Their situation is certainly uncommon but how does one qualify valour's exceptionality?, it seems it's not fair to refer to one's bravery as common if directly engaged in hostile combat. 

It rather seems that difference applies starting with an initial exceptional value, valour distinguishing itself as generally exceptional and nothing less immutably moving forward.

Nonetheless, the soldiers in this film do go beyond the exceptional, and pursue überintense exceptionality as thoroughly demonstrated by one Mr. Wilkes (Fred Ward). 

In fact, the entire team along with their daring courageous local support, distinguishes themselves multilaterally when directly challenged by volatile resistance.

They discuss the enduring friendships which cohesively convinced them to heed the call, bonds distinctively forged like none other amidst daunting peril and shocking uncertainty (as discussed in the film). 

I find the best practice is to advocate against the eruption of war in general, but when madmen do lose control and start them peeps have to be ready to formidably respond.

To see the reduction of someone's life to an acceptable loss is most distasteful. 

Who profits from bellicose engagements?

Should they not be objectively penalized?

Chattahoochee

A veteran from the Korean war who managed to distinguish himself has trouble fitting in back home (Gary Oldman as Emmett Foley), and after having grown tired of picket fence pastimes, tries to get the police to shoot him for the insurance money.

He winds up in a psychiatric institution and finds he's in for the long haul, a distressing situation to say the least since he really isn't that insane.

His coherent reflexes help him observe the unfortunate general corruption, the cruel and unnecessary punishment routinely handed out by the sadistic administration.

He keeps track of the abuse in writing and eventually even studies introductory law, learning enough to air legitimate grievances which are generally ignored by unsympathetic staff.

Meanwhile, as the years pass by, his child ages and his wife (Frances McDormand as Mae Foley) seeks divorce, his sister (Pamela Reed as Earlene) never giving up on him, but somewhat perplexed by the daunting legal fees.

Consistent protest within the facility leads to frequent confrontation, irate guards and frustrated staff with no inclinations to change the management.

It's an old school animate take on social justice and institutional reform, the assertion of rights by those left behind by a system thoroughly unconcerned with how to take care of them.

You get to see Oldman and McDormand in their youth delivering exceptional performances, even if Chattahoochee has issues, you can see why these actors made a go of it (didn't they win best actor and actress in the same year? [2018]).

The thought of being generally sane and finding yourself locked down by bureaucratic codes, is aggravated by the reality that so many others who lack rationality can do exceptionally little to freely defend themselves.

Fortunately, Foley's work prevails and over a hundred reforms are introduced, and he's eventually released a free person to passionately deal with middle-aged life.

I imagine things have remarkably improved since Foucault wrote Madness & Civilization, in some jurisdictions anyways, which hopefully aren't suffering from stringent cutbacks.

It seems that caring for the sick goes without saying and there should be principled professionals who proceed accordingly.

Too bad stories like Chattahoochee still emerge.

Laws should prevent sadistic reckoning.

*There's no secret meaning here, no underlying code. This film was released in 1989 and I'd never heard of it. That's why I chose to watch it.

Shaft

Shaft (2019) presents a more traditional depiction of its iconic lead (Samuel L. Jackson), much more bellicose than that envisioned in 2000, perhaps more reminiscent of the original character.

He's moved far beyond rules and regulations, and lives according to his own proper procedure, as he investigates crime with blunt condemnation, making ends meet with radical ease.

But this time the son he left behind comes calling hot on a case (Jessie T. Usher), a daring analyst working for the F.B.I who's mild-mannered, sincerely reserved.

The endearing odd couple scenario is flexibly enhanced by bemused paternalism, as sustained stark and improvised indiscretion wildly mingles with uptight pretension. 

Shaft Jr. is trying to discover who murdered his friend after he returned from Afghanistan, his methods leading to few results while laying the groundwork for inspired investigation.

Paps turns things up a notch while thoroughly shocking his incredulous son, the danger chaotically increasing as they approach concrete definition.

Mom's none too impressed upon hearing about the unexpected rapprochement (Regina Hall as Maya Babanikos), nor by her ex's ensuing repartee on a random evening which swiftly follows.

Reunited as a family they freely dispute while fighting crime.

Even after Jr.'s kicked out of the Bureau.

John Shaft Sr. (Richard Roundtree) happy to oblige.

Shaft boisterously blends distraught anarchy with technological presumption, intergenerationally melding paradigms with impassioned deconstructive pleas.

Much more raw than Shaft (2000), I wondered how thoroughly it impressed, not that its predecessor isn't also complex, it just lacks awkward contentious fidelity.

Are action heroes like Shaft and John McClane fading into the pre-online background, as cyberspatially savvy considerate sleuths prefer brains to brawn in unprecedented shifts?

Or will a new style of clever private eye still duke it out when their favourite apps fail them, the resultant extant absurdity as ahistorically fashionable as gold or astronomy?

It's fun to watch as emergent generations productively mutate traditional varieties. 

The same family achieving similar goals.

Working together, throughout the centuries. 

Cutter's Way

Independent thinking cynically disposed a lack of purpose embittered tension, disparaging resolute alcohol consumption concealing tranquil constructive pastures. 

A clever incapacitated curmudgeon fluidly expresses existential laxity, thoroughly unamused with bells and whistles or anything whatsoever other than drink (John Heard as Cutter). 

He has good friends committed to taking care of him to delicately nurturing his troubled spirit, the job rather difficult at times since he's prone to bursts of antagonism. 

But one of them witnesses a man who likely engaged in the act of murder, yet is unwilling to talk to the police since the volatile subject is rich and powerful.

His lack of natural daring reawakens Cutter's sense of adventure, his innate romantic composure swiftly shifting back to cavalier. 

His judgment's still somewhat hazy insofar as he thinks his plan will work, that he can blackmail the notorious oligarch and then turn him in once he pays up.

Richard Bone (Jeff Bridges) and Cutter's partner (Lisa Eichhorn as Maureen Cutter) are noticeably less enthused, but Cutter's seen quixotic daylight and can't turn himself away.

He's like a pirate with no ship mundanely caught up with static landlubbin', with his discerning eyepatch and peg leg potential picturesquely protocolled in caricature. 

Inherently independent, salty sea bound stray severity.

Without a goal in sight he's reckless letting loose on routine convention, forgetting what it means to be neighbourly, somewhat of a menace at times in fact.

But his youthful unwavering reckoning does eventually compensate, certainly not for his neighbour's car, but perhaps for endemic eccentricity. 

Perhaps an outcast amongst independent swashbuckling critical hopeless endeavours (the film), due to its fatalistic attitude about Vietnam, and its initial outburst of vulgar racism. 

As a tragic protagonist Cutter is a bit hard to take, the transformation of hope into fatalism generally producing resonant discord.

Boredom generates malcontent flourishes, but doesn't have to aggressively assail, everything found in the immediate vicinity including others who are bored also.

It's cool when bored people get together to put on a play or make a YouTube channel. Start a small business of some kind. Perhaps a restaurant. A local sports league.

But Cutter needed the epic to revitalize his distraught soul.

And as he becomes proactive it impresses.

The final moments are exceptional. 

Leave No Trace

A valiant soldier unable to adjust to civilian life.

Versatile and self-sufficient, he (Ben Foster as Will) makes a rustic home for his small family in a National Park.

His daughter (Thomasin McKenzie as Tom) is helpful and reliable and enjoys the alternative lifestyle her and her father are living.

But since their dwelling is technically illegal, after they're eventually discovered they have to abruptly adapt and make peace with the outside world, fortunately continuing to live together as one.

They're treated quite well, even provided with a home in the countryside plus ample work and schooling.

But the adjustment is still too much for Tom's father, and the sleeping and waking nightmares continue to destructively haunt him, and even though Tom likes living with others, one day they suddenly pack everything up and head back to the isolated wild.

A psychological tragedy.

Brought about by a lack of care.

Debra Granik's Leave No Trace presents a loving family striving to independently get by.

Their circumstances would be less extreme had more time and funding been available to assist Will after he returned home.

I find it's the people who promote and agitate wars who should be held to account after they're over, not the soldiers who fight them, many of whom likely believe the lies war mongering politicians tell them, and therefore shouldn't be condescendingly criticized in public themselves.

Unless they treated local populations savagely.

As many other people have written, stated, theorized, noted, the people who start the wars and sell the weapons to keep them going don't fight in them themselves, and take home profits that make Shangri-La look destitute.

Even if their own country's public debt skyrockets meanwhile (since their wealth is accumulated privately it's of no concern to them).

And they ask poor people to fight in their wars and those brave self-sacrificing people do fight in their wars, but after the war is finished and they've suffered extreme trauma that nothing can prepare anyone for, they're left to fend for themselves with a prescription for pills and the odd hour long chat, while the war mongers bank multi-millions, a scant fraction of which they spend helping those who earned them their profits recover.

Fighting in a war isn't a typical job, and those that do after mad fools start them deserve adequate care and compensation upon returning home.

No matter how long it takes.

A retreat in the countryside with no work and ample comfort for years on end perhaps.

Will walking into the forest on his own after leaving his daughter behind in a welcoming community should be a wake-up call for the civilian public service tasked with helping men and women like him rediscover peace of mind.

Or, more suitably, for politicians tasked with supplying such organizations with the necessary funds to do so, enormous amounts of public money spent on starting and fighting ludicrous wars, not enough spent helping honest veterans become contributing citizens after they've made unimaginable sacrifices.

Or, even more suitably, just ending gun violence permanently.

By making it much much much much much much much much harder to access a gun.

As Toronto's mayor John Tory suggested recently.

Or start wars.

A Middle-Eastern EU comes to mind.

That could work.