Apocalypse Now

SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

When does reality become so bizarre that it begins to feel like a surreal experience? Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now gives us a film that uses the Vietnam War to create that scenario. The movie goes beyond that theme by using Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness as its source, and dives into the abyss at the center of the human soul and portrays the mythic ritual of sacrifice and regeneration, not of man’s hope but of his bestiality. (I am using the 1979 original film, not the Redux version, because I find the one with added footage slows the narrative and thus impacts the power of the story). 

The film begins with a shot of the jungle, both natural in its beauty and deadly in its hidden dangers, as is the nature of humankind. Helicopters fly slowly like mechanistic dragons, in unreal movement, as bombs reign napalm over the foliage. The fires of hell are brought to mind. Given the title of the movie, the soundtrack appropriately plays “The End” by The Doors. The lyrics talk about how “all elaborate plans” are now useless, which fits with the way the war was waged, and how we are in a “desperate land,” running out of options as to how to go on. The propellers of helicopters are then replaced by the ceiling fan blades of the room occupied by Captain Benjamin Willard (Martin Sheen). We see his face superimposed over the jungle fires as the external destructive forces are becoming internalized in this character. The song’s line, “All the children are insane,” stresses the deranged state of war.

Willard is the narrator and he is disoriented, as is the effect of this war on those personally touched by it. He is in Saigon, but keeps thinking he’ll wake up in the jungle, because after being immersed in the uncivilized part of the world his mind can no longer adapt to society’s conventions. Like many veterans (as shown in The Hurt Locker, discussed on this site) Willard says how difficult it was to wake up when he returned home, unable to deal with the transition from the theater of war to peace at home. He shows how he is being torn when he says when he was in Vietnam he wanted to be home, but when back in the United States, “all I could think about was getting back into the jungle.” He is both repulsed and drawn to the horror (a word that will be stressed) of the place that symbolizes confusion and danger. He keeps waiting for a “mission” a purpose, and the waiting makes him “softer” and “weaker.” He is feeling like a pacified civilian, which undermines the animal ferociousness he needs to survive in the jungle, as the enemy in the “bush” gets “stronger.” He feels the walls of his hotel room are getting closer, caging the animal in him. He practices martial arts in the room, and at one point smashes a mirror with his fist, and bleeds. Mirrors, as was noted in other films, can signify the darker sides of oneself, and here the breaking of the looking glass demonstrates how the more sinister side can betray and harm a person. 

Willard says he wanted a mission, “and for my sins, they gave me one.” It is an enigmatic statement that can mean he was rewarded by getting what he desired. But, ironically, the orders he receives will also be a punishment, a penance for those “sins” he has already committed, almost like giving a junkie a fix. The foreshadowing of the terrible task becomes obvious when Willard’s voice-over says that when the operation was over, he “would never want another.” 

He says he didn’t realize it at that time but he was going to the worst place that existed, far away from any protected community, up a river “that snaked,” a demonic, ominous reference to Satan in the Garden of Eden, toward “Kurtz,” the object of the mission. When he arrives to receive his orders, Willard the narrator says, “It was no accident that I got to be the caretaker of Colonel Walter E. Kurtz’s memory.” Very early on in this long tale the film informs us of the almost mythical force of fate that will define Willard’s future role. He says that there is no way of telling Kurt’s story without telling his own, and Kurt’s “confession” (an announcement of sins but also an intimate revealing) is also his. The story implies that Willard and Kurtz are doubles, resembling each other’s characteristics and paths, one younger, one older, as their ages will eventually define what must play out.

Harrison Ford, following his Han Solo role, plays a small part here as Colonel Lucas, (a reference to George Lucas who was supposed to direct this movie) one of the commanders issuing Willard's orders. Lucas questions Willard about his work in counterintelligence which included assassinations. But because he is a covert operative, Willard is reluctant to discuss his past, and the fact that he will not acknowledge his secret exploits, which were performed outside the parameters of acceptable rules, may be a test to make sure he will not divulge any aspects of the current assignment. General R. Corman (G. D. Spradlin, whose character’s name invokes director Roger Corman) and a quiet man in civilian clothes only referred to as Jerry (Jerry Ziesmer, the film's assistant director) are in attendance, and the General invites Willard to a nice lunch which contrasts with the distasteful mission. 

Lucas plays an intercepted audio transmission from Cambodia which is of Kurtz’s voice. Kurtz says that he has a “dream” which is also a “nightmare” of a snail crawling along the edge of a razor and surviving, suggesting what Kurtz will later call accepting the “horror” of life to be victorious. Kurtz also talks about killing and burning animals, villages, and armies, and then wonders how the “assassins” can “accuse the assassin” of wrongdoing. He is questioning the hypocrisy of those who do horrible things but cover them up with “lies” and pretenses of “mercy.” Corman says that Kurtz was a brilliant officer, a humanitarian, and a man of “wit.” But he, like Willard, joined the Special Forces, and his “method” and “ideas” became “unsound.” The suggestion here is that Kurtz became detached from being anchored to a superimposed ethical base, which he found phony. Since Willard’s military history is compared to that of Kurtz, the question is raised as to whether Willard is on the same track. 

Lucas says Kurtz has gone into Cambodia with a Montagnard army (Vietnamese mountain people) that follow him “like a god” and they do whatever he says. The implication is that without any restrictions, anything is permissible. Corman says that Kurtz is guilty of murder for killing Vietnamese intelligence assets he considered “double agents.” Willard is confused probably because he doesn’t see how murder can be a consideration in war where the point is to kill people. Corman admits in an understatement that in a war, things can get “confused out there.” Corman says there is a conflict in people “between the rational and the irrational, between good and evil, and good does not always triumph.” He admits that sometimes the “dark side” wins (this statement must have sounded familiar to Ford after Star Wars). Corman says that everyone has a breaking point, and Kurtz reached his and has gone “insane.” But, there is the sound of a helicopter in the background reminding us of the irony of Corman delivering these insights because, the film may be arguing, that everyone involved in war is somehow complicit in insanity. Corman talks of Kurtz going beyond the bounds of decency at the same time he is ordering the murder of a military colonel.  Lucas then uses official language as he tells Willard that he must board a Navy patrol boat to find Kurtz, “infiltrate” his base and “terminate the colonel’s command.” Thus, Lucas is giving Willard unchecked authority to kill. Jerry, probably a CIA man, finally speaks to drive home the goal when he delivers one of the movie’s memorable lines, “Terminate with extreme prejudice.” It is euphemistic, but he is actually saying Willard is the executioner who must carry out the already decided sentence of death without a moment of hesitation. 

As he approaches the Navy boat (whose name is the Erebus which was the name of the Greek god of darkness, as IMDb states, and which fits with the title of the Conrad novella), Willard wonders how many people he has killed. Thus, he questions the validity of his orders when he says charging Kurtz with murder, “was like handing out speeding tickets at the Indy 500.” The film asks the question how can a country enter a situation that at its base involves killing and then state it’s against the rules to do so? Because Willard sees the hypocrisy of the mission, and the fact he has been ordered to murder an American officer makes him admit that he isn’t sure what he will do when he finds Kurtz. For Willard, the story eventually suggests, killing Kurtz would be like destroying himself.

One of the tragedies of war is that young people are put in a deadly situation, as Willard points out when he says some of the boat's crew were, “rock and rollers with one foot in the grave.” Willard observes that Jay “Chef” Hicks (Frederick Forrest) “was wrapped too tight” for Vietnam, suggesting that the man is jittery and can’t coolly deal with the pressure of the battle. Lance B. Johnson (Sam Bottoms) is using a reflector to get an even tan, and Willard narrates that the young man was a Los Angeles surfer. He looks like he’s at home on a beach instead of on a boat to hell. (There are many examples in the movie of Americans trying to escape the terrible circumstances they are in by mentally recreating the comforts of their lives before becoming soldiers). Tyrone “Clean” Miller (a very young Laurence Fishburne) came from a Bronx ghetto, and Willard says the sharp contrast of the “light and the space of Vietnam really put the zap on his head,” implying the whiplash effect of such a switch in the man’s life was disorienting for him. Chief Phillips (Albert Hall), according to Willard, made sure everyone knew that he had jurisdiction over the boat and crew. (Good writing usually uses actions and words to show who the characters are. The film is long, and possibly Coppola wanted to save time here with these summations, but it is legitimate to question his decision).

The Chief warns that they will be going through dangerous waters controlled by the enemy. He says he brought a man who was on a special operation once before, saying that man was “regular Army, too,” thus comparing the soldier to Willard. The Chief follows by saying that fellow shot himself. He is providing a cautionary tale for his self-assured passenger. The radio is playing which mentions how the local government wants to keep Saigon looking clean so soldiers should not hang their laundry outside. It is a sort of distracting statement to place domestic activities as a priority so as to not face the daily deadly realities that exist. “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones plays on the radio, and these men are trying to get some of what the song laments about not having. Clean dances to the song as Lance water skis behind the boat as they try to hold onto a piece of their old lives. But Lance creates large waves that buffet the Vietnamese on the beach and in the river, showing how the out-of-place American presence overpowers the lives of the locals. 

In contrast to this diverting activity, Willard somberly reviews the information on Kurtz, as the soundtrack now matches his mood. The documents show that Kurtz graduated at the top of his class at West Point, following a family tradition of attendance there. He received a master’s degree in history from Harvard and wrote a thesis on foreign policy in Southeast Asia, interestingly on the Philippines Insurrection, which shows he knows about rebellion. He also received many decorations and it appeared he was being readied for a top spot in the military. But when he reported his observations about Vietnam, those in power apparently did not appreciate what he had to say. It is at this point that Kurtz started to become alienated. 

Along with the Conrad story, the raft ride on the river which turns out to be a journey of discovery brings Huckleberry Finn to mind here. But, this story is a demonic version of that tale as the characters’ revelations are of an earthly apocalypse of the human soul. They meet up with the Air Cav that is to be the boat’s escort to the “mouth of the Nung River.” As Willard and his men go on shore, Coppola himself plays the head of a TV team as he says, “Don’t look at the camera … Go on. Keep going.” Here is an example where reality and illusion join. There is an actual war going on and the TV man/Coppola tells the soldiers to pretend like they are not being filmed for TV audiences and urges them to look “like you’re fighting.” But that is exactly what a director would want for his actors to do, that is to simulate reality, since this is not a true war, and actually is a bit of fiction - a movie. In essence, the make-believe actions are reversed depending on how we approach what we are seeing. 

The military outfit is “mopping up,” adding the finishing touches to an attack. Willard meets the commanding officer here, Lt. Colonel Kilgore, an appropriate name for this war lover played by Robert Duvall. Kilgore throws playing cards onto dead enemy bodies to let the Viet Cong know who killed their men, making it seem like war is some sort of game. There is a young American soldier sitting on a wall who looks overwhelmed by the carnage. Kilgore’s incredibly inappropriate comment to the youth is, “Cheer up, son.” The bombing devastated the area, yet a voice over the loudspeaker contradictorily declares to the locals that the military is there to help them. Although Kilgore is fighting for the U. S., he would be passionate about waging battle whatever side he was on. He says of one of the enemy soldiers who is holding his guts in after being wounded that the man deserves to drink from Kilgore’s canteen. Kilgore admires the battle experience in general. Kilgore is thrilled to meet Lance because he is a famous surfer, and the commander already has two surfers under him. As he leads Lance away, prayers are uttered in the background by a chaplain conducting a church service, which seems like a strange place to be trying to provide sanctity. 

Kilgore airlifts in steaks and beer as he turns the base of operations into what Willard says is a “beach party.” Willard’s cynical tone increases as he progresses toward views held by Kurtz. Willard says, “the more they tried to make it just like home, the more they made everybody miss it.” But, this desire to transform this land also can be seen as an imperialistic drive to Americanize a foreign country. Willard says Kilgore had a “weird light around him. You just knew he wasn’t gonna get so much as a scratch.” Willard seems to be comparing Kilgore to some kind of war god that leads his soldiers into battle but is not really risking any harm to himself. Kilgore becomes convinced to take Willard’s boat to an enemy stronghold because one of his men says it’s the best spot for surfing. The interest in surfing goes along with trying to recreate the United States so far away. Kilgore wants to defy the odds against safety by drawing an odd superior distinction between the Americans and the enemy when he says, “Charlie don’t surf!” 

Kilgore wears a western cavalry hat that lives up to the Air Cav name, which is also stressed by having his bugler sound the Old West cavalry charge as his fleet of helicopters lift off. He also plays Wagner’s “The Ride of the Valkyries” loudly to scare the Viet Cong. The Valkyries are female entities from Norse mythology that fly and announce who will die. It is a fitting and chilling metaphor for these mechanistic death birds of prey who destroy the villages below. The front of the helicopter in which Kilgore is riding has “Death from above” written on it which fits in with the literal and supernatural connotations. Children on the ground coming out of school and peasants run for their lives along with armed enemy fighters who try to defend themselves. It is difficult in a guerrilla war such as this one (and in the conflict in The Hurt Locker) to distinguish who is the real threat. American soldiers are deployed from the helicopters, and some become casualties. As a helicopter tries to airlift out wounded Americans, a seemingly innocent woman hiding a grenade blows up the copter. Kilgore calls the enemy “savages,” but the film implies that savagery occurs on both sides of war to one degree or another. 

Bombs go off around Kilgore as he stands while the soldiers dive for cover. The image fits with Willard’s indestructible vision of the man. Instead of being empathetic about the loss of life and danger surrounding them, Kilgore is only interested in the way the waves break. He tells his surfing men that they either surf with bullets flying all around, or fight, giving them the frying pan or the fire choice. He calls in a huge napalm bomb strike that totally consumes the enemy area. It is here that Kilgore delivers the film’s memorable line: “I love the smell of napalm in the morning... It smelled like victory.” He then says that someday the war will end, and he sounds disappointed. The burning fires of hell are again suggested here to mirror the opening shot of the movie, and one wonders if Kilgore is announcing the way the devil can claim “victory” over the world through man’s lust for killing.

Willard takes in all of these happenings with an outsider’s viewpoint now, a Kurtz outlook, and ponders the reason to want to take out Kurtz when there was already “insanity and murder” in abundance there. He says the men on his boat just want the war to end, unlike Kilgore, and wish to go home. Narrator Willard says he’s been back to the states, and realizes there isn’t a way home anymore, because a soldier takes the jungle with him. They resume their trip up the river's artery to that heart of darkness. 

While stopping along the shore, Chef wants to look for mangos and Willard goes with him for protection. As they walk through this alien land, Chef reveals his nickname comes from his training to be a saucier in New Orleans. However, the military dampened his desire to be a cook in the service by the way the Navy ruined food, showing how refined living was left behind when war is the priority. The conversation of a faraway civilized world contrasts with the current locale. The discrepancy is emphasized as the trees and other vegetation completely dwarf them, symbolizing the power of uncontrollable nature over human beings. The ferociousness of the jungle literally appears when a tiger emerges, which suggests that humans are part of nature and violence is a basic drive in all animals. After the two men escape, Chef shows how he is “wrapped too tight” as he freaks out, screaming he’s never leaving the boat (the way to navigate around the danger inside and outside everyone?). Narrator Willard echoes what Chef says about staying on the boat, “unless you were going all the way,” that is, to accept the truth about the horror behind existence. He says that Kurtz got off the boat, meaning he left war’s false morality behind. He began to decide to wage battles on his own and initiated attacks without authorization. He had great success with Operation Archangel, the name suggesting that Kurtz saw himself as an instrument of supernatural wrath. Willard says the “bullshit” piled up so high in Vietnam, one needed wings to stay above it (like a flying archangel?). It is telling about the progression of Willard’s mentality that as he continued to read about Kurtz the more he “admired” him.

Willard and his men dock at a site that is out of place in the jungle. It has bright spotlights and a stage. They need fuel, and when there is some bureaucratic hold up, Willard violently grabs the soldier handling supplies in a threatening way to get what he needs. Willard is already practicing Kurtz’s rejection of rules. There is a show that night featuring three Playboy Bunnies. We again have reality turning into escapist fantasy. It is noteworthy that the locals must watch behind an enclosed fence. Even though the South Vietnamese were American allies, here they are not really accepted by the occupiers, and the military fosters the impossible idea that the soldiers can separate themselves literally and mentally from their surroundings. The women dance suggestively, using guns as phallic symbols. The attempt to put on a peaceful show of titillation fails, as the instinctual sexual urges of the hundreds of men are unleashed and they start to overrun the stage, clawing at the scantily dressed women, who must be evacuated. Willard, the observer, comments that the enemy had no rest and recreation, implying there was no reason to dream of home because they were home and couldn’t escape that truth. For them, their R&R was rice and rat meat to eat. They had only two options, “Death or victory,” and the implication is that is what makes them very hard to defeat by conventional means. 

Along the way they encounter other American boats. They play diversionary games by sailing too close to each other and one member throws an ignited object onto the covering of Willard’s craft. Chef has to put out the fire. Just like the Playboy Bunnies incident, escapism veers very close to dangerous activity, as the less admirable elements of people come to the surface. Speaking of those uncivilized aspects, Willard continues to read Kurtz’s dossier. The independent Kurtz, waging his own war, assassinated Vietnamese individuals, two of which were in the South Vietnamese Army. Since enemy resistance dropped in his sector, Kurtz had identified South Vietnamese spies, showing again how the enemy can come from anywhere. Then Kurtz disappeared into the Cambodian jungle, a place that now suited him. Kurtz wrote home saying he has been accused of murder, but he says that being “ruthless” many times is an act of “clarity,” that shows one what needs to be done. He wrote, “I am beyond their timid, lying morality.” Kurtz had decided to answer to nobody but himself, an understandable reaction considering the handling of the war, but a dangerous stance that can lead to crossing that line that General Corman talked about, and the committing of atrocities. 

As Willard reads the letter, the boat passes by dead bodies in trees, and a burning helicopter that crashed into another tree (of course, fire is again present). It is like they are passing by a grotesque graveyard. The Chief tries to keep order amid chaos as Chef and Clean argue. They come across a Vietnamese boat. The Chief says he has to check it out to make sure it isn’t a Viet Cong vessel, since, as was noted, the enemy may be anyone, including, metaphorically, oneself. Willard tells him not to stop, but the Chief says he has his orders. He forces the reluctant Chef to board the other craft and he acts roughly and loudly with the people there. Tension rises and Clean goes dirty as he loses control and starts firing his machine gun, killing all but one of the Vietnamese. There is a woman who is alive and she was only heading for a hidden puppy, not a weapon. The Chief wants to take the wounded woman to get medical assistance. Willard kills her, knowing that rescuing her will only delay his mission. The brutality of hysterical irrationality meets up with dispassionate violence in this scene as war strips away civilized behavior.

Willard narrates that he realized that the American occupiers told themselves that they needed to put a positive spin on their deeds. But, for Willard, it was like treating the Vietnamese by “cutting them in half” and then giving them a “band-aid.” He sees this action as a “lie” and the more he becomes like Kurtz the more he hates the “lies” inherent in American policy. The boat approaches the last American outpost situated at a bridge. It is totally lit up with rockets going off like fireworks. Lance, who has painted himself green as camouflage, but which symbolizes becoming one with the jungle, says he took the hallucinogen LSD. He carries the puppy retrieved from the boat they shot up. The cute dog is a symbol of innocence, like many of these young men, caught in a whirlwind of destruction. Lance says the place looks beautiful, and it appears at a distance like a theme park at night until there is a closer look. (Lance receives a letter from home about going to Disneyland and says where he is now is better than that amusement resort, which stresses the upside-down world he is now in). This scene very much adds to the theme of life losing its grounding in reality as rationality becomes insanity. Soldiers swim toward the boat asking to go home, which is all the soldiers really want as noted earlier, but which Willard said they can’t really do mentally once being in the war zone. Willard is given a communication by a man on another boat who then says he now can gratefully leave because Willard has reached “the asshole of the world.” This excremental view of humankind mirrors that of satirist Jonathan Swift.

Willard and his men go ashore and the soundtrack sounds like harsh circus music played in hell. They come across a bunker ironically called “Beverly Hills” where rock music plays and the men smoke pot, still trying to escape the nightmare. To stress the chaos of the situation, Willard asks a man firing his weapon wildly who is his commanding officer. The soldier asks, “Ain’t you?” His confusion represents that of all those there. The Chief questions the point of going forward, noting the cyclical nature of the war as they keep rebuilding the bridge there and each time the enemy blows it up again. But Willard is determined to find Kurtz, because the mission has also become an inner quest to meet the man who now reflects parts of himself.

The information Willard received is that someone else was sent on a similar mission before Willard. The man’s name is Captain Richard Colby (Scott Glenn, with no dialogue in this version) and he has joined the Kurtz cult. He tried to send a letter to his wife telling her to sell the house, the car, and “the kids” because he was “never coming back.” Once sucked into the black hole of this heart of darkness, there is no getting out. Lance plays with a smoke bomb, adding to the hallucinogenic fun ride theme park the war has become for him. But the smoke of his diversion turns into trails of incoming fire from the enemy on shore, coming out of the hostile jungle. Clean is hit and killed while a tape that arrived from his mother plays, adding to the tragedy as she speaks of the young man coming home and eventually giving her grandchildren. 

The journey continues as the boat goes through a fog (the fog of war?) which shows the clouded morality of the conflict. Lance has his arms up behind him as he leans against the craft and screams. The image reminds one of Odysseus who asked to be bound so he could hear the seductive song of the Sirens who lured ships to their destruction. Willard, almost psychically linked to Kurtz now, says he feels that the man is close. He says it was like the river was paradoxically (irrationally?) being sucked back into the jungle, (which adds to the black hole metaphor). A spray of arrows flies toward them, but here again the danger is misleading, since they are toy weapons, just meant to scare. But the Chief and Chef fire at the natives on the shore. A real spear then penetrates the Chief, as weapons now become more primal, barbaric, from a place removed from modern influence. In his dying action the Chief tries to pierce Willard with the point of the spear coming out of his chest in his own attempt to stop the madness.

Willard tells Chef his mission, which boggles Chef’s mind since it involves killing someone on their side of the war. Willard is ready to go on land on his own, but possibly because there has been so much sacrifice for the mission already, and he needs to hold onto some purpose amid the craziness, Chef tells Willard they will get him to where he is going. Lance has one of the toy arrows looking like it is going through his head, something that the comedian Steve Martin used to do. The image adds to the theme that reality has become so strange it feels like an illusion.

To add to that feeling, a Halloweenish landscape appears as there are skeletal heads propped up on spikes in a hellish graveyard. Willard narrates that more than his fear was the desire to confront Kurtz (and to face that part of himself that is like Kurtz?). They finally sail into Kurtz’s jungle kingdom. There are many natives standing on boats looking at the strangers arriving. They part, allowing the boat to dock, as if they expected the visit. The natives appear to be covered in some kind of mud-like substance, as if they sprouted from the land as offshoots of the jungle, which adds to the surreal atmosphere. There are many more armed local inhabitants on the grounds of what looks like an ancient temple, which contributes to the mythological aspect of the conclusion of the story. The soundtrack has thumping bass sounds that remind one of a loud beating heart that director John Carpenter later puts to great effect in his version of The Thing.

We now get one of the craziest characters ever put on screen, a sort of court jester in the form of Dennis Hopper’s stoned hippie photojournalist. He acts friendly like a cruise tour director in this nightmarish theater of war. He tells Chef to blast the boat siren which disperses the natives, since modern sounds are frightening to these people from the jungle. The photojournalist warns of mines and biting monkeys in an upbeat voice which contrasts with the suspended naked dead men near the docking area. The photojournalist says that the people there are Kurtz’s children who are afraid Willard and his men are going to take Kurtz away. He is a disciple, trying to pave the way to meeting Kurtz. He calls Kurtz a “poet warrior” who has “enlarged” his mind, which may have swelled to madness with the dispensing of insight into humankind’s soulless state. He babbles, trying to quote Kurtz who said, “keep your head when all about are losing theirs and blaming you.” This statement sounds darkly humorous since Kurtz is literally beheading people. He says he is a little man and Kurtz is great, and then quotes from T. S Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” a poem that reflects Eliot’s themes of the decay of civilization, a view most likely held by Kurtz. Even this weird devotee admits that Kurtz “can be terrible, and he can be mean,” but he can be “right.” An unrestrained god is free to do good and terrible things. The photojournalist carries cameras and is recording what Kurtz does, but as he says later he does not see himself as the person who will present the gospel according to Kurtz. But he also says that Kurtz threatened to kill him for taking his picture. Perhaps a photograph would render Kurtz as something too concrete and trivial for what he sees as his exalted purpose.

The photojournalist escorts Willard past armed men, including Colby, the man sent before him. The American soldier stares intensely ahead with unblinking eyes, appearing as if he is under a spell. The photojournalist notes the heads of victims present. He is Kurtz’s apologist, saying sometimes Kurtz goes too far, and he even tries to show that Kurtz knows that he has committed atrocities when he says, “He’s the first to admit it.” But the man has drunk the Kool Aid and says, “No!” when Chef says Kurtz is crazy.

Kurtz is not there now as he has gone into the jungle, his true home now. Back at the boat Chef wails about Kurtz being insane and promises to help Willard with his mission. The camera pans over Kurtz’s people and the words, “Apocalypse Now” appear painted on a wall, stating Kurtz’s belief that the end of the so-called civilized life as we know it is happening. Willard says he will go with Lance to look around for Kurtz and tells Chef that if he isn’t back by 10 pm, he should call in an airstrike, with the code “Almighty.” It is an appropriate title for what Kurtz had become to those under his rule, but which can also affirm the established military’s superior strength. 

Willard narrates that the bodies of Vietnamese and Cambodians there convinced him that Kurtz was insane. He realizes that Kurtz wants him alive since his men do not harm him. They do drag him into the mud, an almost symbolic act to prepare him by being in touch with the primordial jungle before meeting their leader. Inside Kurtz’s hideaway is what Willard says is the “end of the river” which involves “slow death,” “malaria,” and “nightmares.” There is no pretense here of hope for the future. Kurtz (Marlon Brando) is filmed in shadows which fits the mysteriousness of this person. He washes himself as he talks about freedom from the opinions of others, and even one’s programmed opinion of oneself, as he seems to be cleansing himself of those judgments. Kurtz already knows that Willard is there to, as Colonel Lucas euphemistically stated, “terminate his command.” Willard admits that his superiors said Kurtz was insane and his “methods were unsound.” When asked if that is so, Willard finds no “method” in Kurtz’s madness. When asked if he is an assassin, Willard says he is a soldier, which is his excuse for killing another. Kurtz’s response won’t give him the satisfaction of either title, saying Willard is a lowly, servile “errand boy sent by grocery clerks to collect the bill.” 

The photojournalist gives water to Willard who is now in a bamboo cell. He says that Kurtz is “clear in his mind, but his soul is mad.” Kurtz has seen the wrongdoings of man and the mental self-deceptions that followed, and that knowledge and trying to deal with those insights has brought on an insanity. The photojournalist says that Kurtz is dying and when he goes the response will not be to praise him because of his violations of accepted behavior. He tells Willard that Kurtz has a plan for Willard, implying the man who has come to kill Kurtz will carry the man’s message forward. 

Chef says he is asleep and dreaming on the boat, but he is actually awake, talking to himself, which again shows that blurring of illusion and reality. He tries to make the call that Willard ordered him to initiate. There is a quick shift to the bound Willard visited at night by the silent Kurtz, whose face is painted with that camouflage green that Lance used. Is he showing he has become one with the jungle or is he mocking the soldiers for pretending that they can artificially blend into their surroundings? As Kurtz walks away, one of his minions drops the head of Chef into the lap of the screaming Willard. The action reveals to Willard Kurtz’s mad soul in a personal way as he kills someone who Willard came to know. In a bizarre way he is mentoring Willard. 

Kurtz’s people now free Willard after his cleansing of civilized notions, and give him drink and food. Kurtz reads from Eliot’s “Hollow Men,” which deals with those who have lost their souls, are empty inside, and despite knowing that they are broken, seem powerless to act either for their condemnation or redemption. The last famous lines of the poem are, “This is the way the world ends/Not with a bang, but a whimper.” It is this passivity, this abdication of will that Kurtz seems to despise. The photojournalist tries to interpret the poem for Willard in a roundabout way, saying nothing should be done part way. But, Kurtz throws a book at him, calling him, “Mutt!” since he sees the journalist as a type of lap dog, not as an alpha male. 

Willard narrates that he was not under guard but did not leave and stayed with Kurtz for days. He says that Kurtz knew he wasn’t going and was aware of what Willard would do more than he did himself. He says these words as the camera reveals books in Kurtz’s cave. One is The Golden Bough by James G. Frazer which is a study of ancient religions and fertility rites. This book recounts how religion mirrors the cycle of death and rebirth in nature through the seasons. A king or god is sacrificed only to be reborn again in many religious belief systems. A version of this ritual is what follows. 

Willard sees how Kurtz has been torn apart by what has happened around him and committed by him. Kurtz says he has seen “horrors” as has Willard, so they are likened by experience. He admits that Willard has the right to choose to kill him but not a right to call him a “murderer” or “judge” him, since he suggests that society’s rules are arbitrary. Kurtz says that “horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.” He tells a story of having gone into a village when he was in Special Forces to inoculate the children against polio. But, the inhabitants, not accepting any shielding from the ravages of the disease, cut off all of the vaccinated arms. His first response was to cry. Then, instead of seeing this action as superstitious ignorance, Kurtz says he realized these men had the will to do such an act. He says to win a war there must be those who can kill “without feeling, without passion, without judgment.” He seems to advocate that one must embrace the darkness or else be defeated by it, since it is overpowering and should be met with honesty and not denial. In very simplistic terms it’s like saying one must fight fire with fire. 

Kurtz tells Willard that he is afraid his son would not understand what he has done and he gives Willard a new mission which is to tell Kurtz’s boy why his father acted the way he has and to tell the youth of what Willard has seen. As the radio on the boat tries to communicate with him, Willard’s voice-over says he wasn’t even in their army anymore since what he does is not dictated by the orders given to him. Willard emerges headfirst from the river at night like some kind of phantom, as the natural and the supernatural blur. “The End” again plays which is appropriate because as the natives slice to death a water buffalo, Willard sacrifices Kurtz the same way, as the old god is killed and the new one comes to life. But it is a deity from the void that is born. Kurtz’s last words are “the horror,” which is what he teaches is either a friend or else an enemy. 

Willard walks out covered in the mud of the jungle into Kurtz's followers with his scythe, carrying Kurtz’s writings which have a note about killing everyone. Kurtz’s people let him pass, even bow down to him, and throw down their weapons as Willard and Lance leave on their boat. The last image is that of Willard’s face next to a superimposed statute of an ancient god, possibly one ushering in the apocalypse now.

The next film is The Killing.

Witness

SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

The title of this 1985 film directed by Peter Weir suggests both secular and religious meanings of the word “witness.” On the one hand a witness may testify as to observing actions in association with a legal investigation. On the other hand, an individual may go public by bearing witness to one’s religious faith or conviction. Both meanings pertain here. This story depicts how two worlds clash, and the question posed is whether the characters from those different societies are better for having encountered each other.

The first image is one of fields, calm, pastoral, implying innocence, as in the Garden of Eden. We know that we are in Amish country by observing the horse-and-buggy transportation and the old-fashioned manner of the dress of the inhabitants. We are told we are in Pennsylvania in 1984. The fact that these people still often speak a foreign language, dress differently, and avoid modern technology after so many generations of having lived in the United States demonstrates how much they want to remain separate from American culture. The emphasis on community among these people is stressed immediately as a large number of the Amish are attending and contributing food at a funeral gathering. Even in death, the community is present to support each other. And contrary to some misconceived notions, these people have a sense of humor. Some of the men there talk about how the deceased, Jacob, was not a good horse trader, pointing out that the father of one of the men in attendance, Daniel Hochleitner (Alexander Godunov) sold Jacob an animal with one testicle. Daniel counters with, “That horse had one good ball. That’s all it takes!” The deceased, Jacob, was the husband of Rachel (Kelly McGillis) and Daniel goes out of his way to offer his sympathies, but he is wasting no time in showing he has a romantic interest in Rachel.

There is a shot of a slow-moving buggy carrying Rachel, her son Samuel (Lukas Haas), and his grandfather, Eli (Jan Rubes) to emphasize their pace of living as they leave their community. Behind them, in contrast, are a truck and car that must decrease the speed of their journey, probably seeing these off-the-grid people as impediments to their progress. The quick scene illustrates how the Amish culture is out of step compared to the American civilization at large, and is in no hurry to catch up to what they consider to be its dangerous ways. The family is now heading to the bustling population of Philadelphia as Samuel will be visiting the city for the first time. Daniel shows up and tells Samuel he will see many things, but he doesn’t say it in an ominous way, most likely understanding the boy’s natural excitement encountering something new. As it turns out, he will see some horrifying things. Daniel gives him a gift, a carved wooden replica of a cow, which is sort of a reminder of the world of nature he comes from. The grandfather tells the departing Rachel and Samuel to be careful among “the English,” as if there is a denial of all the time that has passed since the Amish first arrived and the changes that occurred which constitute current American society. Those outside of the Amish community are still thought of as foreigners.

At the Philadelphia train station people are condescending, the different Amish appearance fostering a sense of separateness, as people comment on how “cute” Samuel looks. To the city’s residents, the boy’s oddness classifies him as an object to be looked at in a museum, not as someone who can exist among them. In that way, the population at large adds to the division between the two groups that the Amish seek. Rachel has a three-hour layover before going to Baltimore. The curious Samuel plays with the water fountain, and starts to wander, thinking he sees a similarly dressed man who may be Amish. He turns out to be a Hassidic Jewish man, which shows that outward appearances can be deceiving, as we later learn about the criminal act that is to occur. Samuel sees a huge religious statue, entitled the “Angel of Resurrection,” which depicts Michael the Archangel lifting up a fallen soldier. Although religious in nature, the sculpture is a sort of joining of the concepts of church and state by showing the spiritual redemption of one who sacrificed himself in war for his country, a concept that is not part of the Amish belief system, since they see themselves as not owing military allegiance to the land in which they reside.

Samuel goes into the men’s restroom and enters a stall. He passes by a young man there who appears frightened. Two other men enter. One, Fergie (Angus MacGinnes), puts a hood over the frightened man’s head and the other, Officer McFee (Danny Glover) cuts his throat with a knife. They make it look like a mugging, taking items from his pockets. McFee is cool, taking time to wash his hands. Samuel saw what happened and lets out a stifled sound. McFee investigates, but Samuel, although an innocent in this fallen world, is quick enough to move from one stall to another, grabbing his hat just in time so as not to be seen, and stands on the toilet so his legs are not visible.

The police arrive after the killing is reported. Policeman John Book (Harrison Ford) tells Samuel that the man who was killed was a policeman, and he wants Samuel to tell him everything he saw. Samuel said there were two men, but he only saw the face of one of them. Samuel points out that the man looks like Book’s partner, Carter (Brent Jennings), who is black. But Samuel is so ingrained in farm life that he uses a Pennsylvania Dutch word for “runt of the litter,” to distinguish Carter, who is small, from McFee, who is large. This exchange again stresses the divide between the cultures. They take Rachel and Samuel in a police car to hopefully identify a suspect. Rachel is indignant, saying they have no right to cart them around. Book (whose name can imply doing things by the “book,” and thus according to secular law) says that he does, since Samuel is a material witness in a homicide investigation. Rachel says they don’t want anything to do with their laws. Book’s remark is “Doesn’t surprise me,” which is a satiric reflection on the sad state of the legal system by one of its own. When Book tries to introduce himself, Rachel, fearing moral contamination in proximity to outside society, says that they don’t need to know his name or anything about him.

Instead of setting up a formal line-up, they drive to a club, and Book manhandles a black man and shoves his face into the car window, asking Samuel if he recognizes the man. Book’s actions are insensitive concerning Samuel’s situation, and Rachel is incensed at having her son exposed to the violence of the “English” world. Samuel says the man was not the person in the restroom. Book decides to take them to stay with his sister Elaine (Patti Lupone). It appears he is concerned Rachel will escape if they are placed in a hotel. Book, preoccupied with the requirements of his job, seems unsympathetic to the feelings of others as he disrupts the lives of those around him. It’s interesting that the secular Book (whose name also suggests “The Good Book,” although Book does not particularly follow the bible’s teachings despite wanting to do the right thing) exhibits moral indignation that his sister has a man in the house while her two children are there. Elaine doesn't want to hear his “holier than thou” speech, which does suggest there may be a hint of the religious existing in Book’s nature.

The next day Samuel participates in a typical lineup at the police station. He doesn’t recognize any of the suspects. They go to a luncheonette and Book feels awkward as he does not say prayers before eating. Rachel is quite frank, having no experience with editing the truth, and says in a detached way what Elaine told her, probably in confidence. Book’s sister said Book has no family, so he parents Elaine’s children instead. She thinks Book is “afraid of the responsibility” of having his own family. Elaine also told her that he thinks he likes to be a policeman because he is in control and feels that he is always right, the other cops being inept. Book is speechless at this outpouring of personal information from a stranger, not something he is accustomed to in his world. When Samuel burps while eating his hot dog, he does not have to excuse himself. Instead Rachel says, “good appetite,” like it’s a normal bodily act after eating, which highlights in a small way the difference in the cultures.

At the precinct, Book shows Samuel mugshots. A pretty female office tempts Samuel with a chocolate chip cookie (an Eve reference as to the temptations of the material world?). A criminal handcuffed to a chair gets Samuel to approach him, but then rattles his cuffs, getting a thrill out of scaring Samuel. The scene shows how alien and upsetting this world can be to the innocent young boy. Samuel recognizes McFee, (a name suggesting money is at the heart of his character), a narcotics officer, in a newspaper picture in the police station. McFee, a killer, is ironically honored for his actions in connection with a youth project. One can’t always tell a book from its cover, with Book being the exception here. Book covers Samuel’s finger as he points to the picture, realizing he must protect his witness from his own organization. As the story proceeds, Book becomes the one ethical person fighting corruption, as did the main character noted in Serpico a couple of weeks ago.

Book goes to the home of his boss, Paul Schaeffer (Josef Sommer), to maintain secrecy, and tells him the boy identified McFee. There was a drug raid which supposedly confiscated a supply of the substance called P2P, worth $22 million, which is used to make methamphetamine. When Book checked into the case, he found there was no P2P in the inventory. Since McFee ran the operation, and now he is identified in a killing involving the death of a policeman, Book believes the two cases are related. Book tells Schaeffer that Samuel is staying with his sister and they are the only two who know about it.

As Book goes to the elevator in his sister’s apartment building, McFee shows up and starts shooting at him. Book escapes but knows he must hide Rachel and Samuel. He tells his sister to deny knowing anything about the Amish people and to say that Book just wanted to borrow her car. They drive off, with Book admitting that he was wrong about how he, representing the law, could keep her safe in his city, Philadelphia, the birthplace of American laws. He stops to call Carter, and since he knows that Schaeffer is involved, having given McFee information about Samuel staying at Elaine’s place. Book tells Carter to get rid of all the information about Rachel and Samuel so Schaeffer and McFee can’t find them. From the documents the partner removes, we know that Samuel lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

Schaeffer, McFee, and Fergie break into Book’s car, and McFee finds a towel that shows blood on it, establishing that McFee wounded Book. Schaeffer tries to intimidate Elaine, but Schaeffer realizes that she doesn’t know where Book took Rachel and Samuel. Book drops Rachel and Samuel off at their farm. He tells Rachel there won’t be a trial, knowing, as did Serpico, that there is no one to protect the people when those who are supposed to uphold the laws begin to break them. Book tries to drive off, but his wound overcomes him, and he crashes. He doesn't want to go to a hospital since the gunshot wound will be reported, and the crooked cops will find him, and Samuel, as well.

In this case, Book, a man from a large, socially interconnected culture, is in the best place given the need for secrecy because the Amish are used to being cut off from outside society and are mostly self-sufficient. The man they call, Stoltzfus (Frederick Rolf) says he is not a doctor, but prescribes a salve and medicinal teas. Eli worries that they will be charged under the laws of Book’s world (like it’s a foreign land) if they are discovered. Stoltzfus says he must speak with the elders since the effects of the actions of individuals on the community as a whole are the primary concern in the Amish settlement. Rachel nurses Book through delirious fevers brought on by infection. In a way, she is exchanging her hospitality for the one supplied by Book’s sister, and as she administers to him, she becomes more attached emotionally.

Schaeffer calls the Lancaster police department but gets little help since so many Amish people are named Lapp (Rachel’s last name). When Schaeffer suggests telephoning, the policeman jokingly says who should he call since the Amish don’t have phones. Schaeffer sarcastically thanks the cop for the “education,” but the short scene emphasizes how the Amish live in a very different, separate world within the larger society surrounding them. When Book wakes up there are a number of serious looking men, the community’s leadership, staring at him, his predicament being of public concern. To us, this culture seems alien, and we feel the way Book does, like their presence is an invasion of privacy since he is in bed. Rachel says that they didn’t know what they would have done with him if he died. She sounds like he is just a problem that the community would have to deal with, as opposed to worrying about his loss as a human being. It shows the Amish emotional detachment from mainstream society. The elders, as they leave, say they want Book to depart as soon as possible, hoping for the threat of his presence to vanish quickly.

Not being familiar with the danger of firearms, and letting his curiosity control him, Samuel takes Book’s pistol out of a drawer. Luckily, Book sees the boy and has him freeze immediately, taking the gun, and telling him how dangerous it is. His gruff manner probably reveals Book’s guilt that he allowed the boy to find the pistol. He takes the bullets out and then says he can now safely handle it. Unfortunately, just having him hold it is against Amish beliefs, and Rachel walks in on them. She demands that he shows respect for their ways, and Book quickly agrees, telling her to take the gun and bullets and put them where Samuel will not find them.

Alone with Samuel, and with the gun and bullets on the table, Eli tells boy that the weapon is meant to take human life and they “believe it is wrong to take life. That is only for God.” Eli says that wars have occurred and the government has asked the Amish to fight, saying it was the only way to preserve what is good. But, Eli says there is always more than one way. When he asks Samuel if he would ever kill someone, Samuel says only a “bad man.” Eli asks how can he tell a bad man by looking at him, (more about appearances being deceiving) and how can one see what is in the man’s heart and mind? Samuel says he can see bad actions, and he has seen that, as he is referring to the train station. Eli says by seeing the badness you become part of it, and what he takes into his hands (the gun) he takes into his “heart.” Eli’s lesson preaches total separation, as if just being in the outside society that contains evil makes one evil. It does not allow for a person like Book, who tries to fight the wrongdoing from within the tainted culture. Eli quotes scripture by saying be “separate” and stay away from the “unclean” thing, that is, the gun. He shows how the Amish use what is in the bible to justify their removal from the general society, as opposed to allowing one to be exposed to wrongdoing, rejecting it, and opposing it.

Rachel gives Book her husband’s clothes, which for Book seems awkward. From a practical point of view, Rachel is glad they can be put to some use. Book’s clothes have blood on them, and while wearing the Amish clothes he will not stand out, which means his individuality is muted. She talks about how the clothes counter vanity, advocating how their dress is “plain.” She comments on how tourists come right up into their yards, being very rude, and just stare at them. She says that they think they are “quaint” which Book, still out of his element, jokes, “Can’t imagine why they’d think that.” He insists that he go with Eli and Samuel to town so he can make a phone call.

Rachel laughs when she sees Book in Amish clothes, as if the look just doesn’t fit his personality. But the laughter stops when he asks for his gun. When he wonders if he looks Amish she nods and says he looks “plain,” which is a compliment in her community, but would be an insult in any American city. In town, Book calls Carter, who says it’s too “hot” for him to come back to Philadelphia. Carter looks very nervous and scared. Back at the farm, Book gives the bullets back to Rachel as she cans fruit, and jokingly says don’t put them in the peaches. She is attracted to his sense of humor.

Samuel likes Book and maybe sees him as a father substitute. He takes Book around the farm, showing him how the water wheel works and listening to the echoes heard in the grain silo (a foreshadowing of what’s to come). He even introduces him to his cats. Book, from the world of machines, tries to get his broken car to start. Eli says Book can help him milk, but that means getting up at 4:40 in the morning. Eli tells him to squeeze the utter, and Eli says that it looks as if Book never had his hand on a teat before. Book jokes by saying, “not one this big,” which elicits a huge laugh from Eli, showing that his people are interested in a good joke. He finally gets some milk from the cow, as he begins his initiation in the workday of the Amish. They eat a big meal, but Book says he is not used to eating “in the middle of the night.” Eli says he’s not used to working hard which builds an appetite. Eli has a desk chair that he glides back and forth to the stove, which is a funny juxtaposition making it look as if he is adapting a piece of American society for his purposes. To show how he’s not in sync with where he is, Book takes a sip of the coffee and imitates a TV commercial by saying, “Honey now that’s great coffee.” They don’t know what he’s talking about since they don’t watch TV, and also the use of the term “honey,” is too familiar.

Daniel meets Book, and sees him as a threat to the community and to his romantic plans concerning Rachel. Since he knocked over the birdhouse on his first day after being shot, Book tries to repair it since Eli said he could use his tools. Rachel brings him some lemonade and he drinks it down in one gulp, which seems to impress Rachel. Besides carpentry she asks if has other skills. He repeats what she said about how, as a policeman, she feared that he was used to “whacking” people. He now says he is good at “whacking” people, and she smiles, as they indulge in a bit of flirting.

The next scene is at night, establishing a romantic setting, as Rachel holds a flashlight for Book as he works on the car. She says that Eli thinks that he should attend the next barn raising, and he responds only if he is still there. She looks a bit disappointed thinking about him leaving, as she has become used to his male presence following the loss of her husband. He gets the radio working and the song that plays is Sam Cooke’s “Wonderful World” (chosen by Ford), which is appropriately Amish, because it talks about not needing to know anything worldly, only love. They dance, and Rachel and he laugh, which does not happen much during her workday. They do not kiss but come close. Eli interrupts them, and Rachel says she has committed no sin. He warns maybe not yet, but she may. By letting Book into their lives, Eli argues there is the dangerous chance that others looking for Book will come with their guns. He says that she may be shunned, meaning Eli can’t go to worship with her, can’t eat at the same table, and can’t receive anything offered from her hand. Their rules are harsh if there is any individuality expressed that deviates from the community’s dictates. She is defiant in almost a feminist way, saying that she is not a child, and he shames himself by not respecting her behavior.

Schaeffer talks with Carter saying the police are a cult, like the Amish, a club, with their own set of rules, and Book broke them just as Carter is breaking them by not disclosing where Book and Samuel are. Schaeffer’s “cult” consists here of banding together to do harmful and illegal actions. This scene contrasts with the next one which shows a barn raising where the Amish men work together to do something beneficial by building a barn for a neighbor as the women provide food and drink, in stereotypical sexist fashion. Daniel, smiling but with menace behind his words and sometimes in his looks, asks how Book is feeling. Since he says he is doing well, Daniel says he will be able to go home soon, his departure coming none too soon for him.  Everyone sings at the end of the day and Book is introduced to the man and woman whose barn they built. They were just married, so Book can appreciate the good act performed by the community, and of which he was a part.

Book is sexually aroused as he watches Rachel through a door taking a sponge bath. The rain outside adds to the wet, clean sexuality of the scene. Rachel turns, facing Book, revealing her naked breasts, in a type of wordless, open, unembarrassed invitation to join her. But it is Book’s shame coming from the fallen world which brings embarrassment to Rachel. He looks away, and finds that he can’t cross the line between their two worlds in such an intimate way, worried about the repercussions to both of their lives. He sees her the next day, and they are physically and figuratively separated by a fence. He sums up the impact on their getting involved by saying that if they had made love, he would either have to stay or she would have to leave, and neither of them is prepared to do deal with that.

In a confrontation with tourists, onlookers rudely approach the Amish, wanting pictures of them. Book makes a phone call to contact Carter and finds out he’s been killed in the line of fire. Book then calls Schaeffer and tells him he’s now out to get him, not the other way around. Book is in an angry state, and moves toward a confrontation with some people making fun of Daniel and Moses (Viggo Mortensen). Eli says it’s not their way, but Book says it’s his way, and that sums up the differences between the pacifist and aggressive lifestyles indicative of their two cultures. Some may get satisfaction from what Book does, and it may hinder further harassment, but it is morally repugnant to the Amish person to resort to physical violence. Book explodes and breaks the nose of a harassing young man. It’s implied that it’s bad for the local businesses since tourists won’t come if they encounter resistance from the Amish to the visitor’s intrusive, belittling ways. The fact that an Amish fought back gets back to the local police and we assume that Schaeffer gets wind of the commotion.

Eli tells Rachel that Book is leaving the next day because he belongs in his world, even though Rachel says that there is nothing for him in that life. She probably feels she can give him more than the job he temporarily left behind. She sees him securing the birdhouse he rebuilt, which is a sort of symbol of his reaching the end of his stay. She comes out to the field and they kiss passionately, knowing that it is their romantic goodbye.

Over the hill, danger comes in the form of the three policemen who have tracked Book down. Book’s violent outburst brought more violence to this land of pacifism, a sort of demonic invasion into the Eden of these people. It is misty out, befitting the shady doings of these criminals. They break into Rachel’s house without warning. Eli shouts out to Book just before he is hit and knocked down. Book tells Samuel to run. Book climbs up the ladder of the silo and drops all the grain on the searching Fergie, burying him. Samuel comes back to the house, but Schaeffer doesn’t see him. Eli gives him a yanking signal. Book goes into the silo and retrieves Fergie’s rifle just in time to shoot McFee. Samuel is ringing the house bell that is an alarm that calls the community. Schaeffer has the gun pointed at Rachel’s head and gets Book to release his weapon.

But with all of the locals assembled there, Book asks what is Schaeffer going to do? Shoot all of them? There are too many people, so many witnesses to his violence and law breaking. Schaeffer stands down. The story implies that when non-aggressive people comprise the overwhelming majority of the population and won’t tolerate injustice, they can stop the violence.

In the last scene, Book and Rachel feel they must do what they can in their own worlds. They look at each other in silence as they part, their smiles showing that they know that they gave the best part of themselves to each other for a brief time.  Eli says that Book should be careful out there “among them English.” Since the “English” are the “others” for Book, too, now, he is considered part of the Amish community. As he leaves Daniel walks toward Rachel’s home, telling us he will probably be her future husband, which may be the right choice, unfortunately, given the conflicting state of the two worlds.

The next film is The Year of Living Dangerously.