Jack Nicholson and Otis Young are assigned the task of escorting prisoner Randy Quaid fro Norfolk, Virginia, to the Marine Brig in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Quaid was given eight years for stealing a few dollars from the Commanding Officer's favorite charity box. Along the way, the two stern Shore Patrol sailor loosen up and allow Quaid a few liberties, which include getting drunk, learning to chant, visiting his mother, and spending a little time in a whore house. Quaid is an innocent -- dumb, inexperienced, with the mind of a child. He sees no evil anywhere and is willing to do his time without bitterness.
It's not going to be fun for him, though he doesn't realize it. A friend of mine was hustled off to a Marine Brig. He was brought back to collect his gear two days later, a black eye for every day. Michael Moriarty shines in a small part as an Admitting Officer at the brig.
The story is by Daryl Ponicsan, who must know what he's doing when it comes to the Navy, and was touched up by Robert ("Chinatown") Towne. They may have had a hard time filling a feature-length film with incidents. There are stop overs in various cities along the way. The last scene is particularly astringent. The three men are in Boston, granting Quaid's last wish -- to have a picnic. But it's winter. The picnic site in the public park is frozen and dusted lightly with snow. The men struggle to light a fire with green wood. They drink icy beer with shivering hands. Their puff out their breaths in clouds of steam, and Nicholson has forgotten to buy hot dog buns so they must eat the scorched wieners from sharpened twigs. They turn their broad collars up and stomp their feet. It's a total disaster.
But then this is really a disaster movie. Otis Young is a black Gunner's Mate and he's found a home in the Navy. He hates this detail but wants to put in his years without making waves. Nicholson is a Signalman and feels oppressed by regulations and angry at Quaid's fate. In my opinion neither has much to complain about. They're both first-class petty officers. The job of first-class petty officers, especially Boatswain's Mates, is to stand around with a cup of coffee in their hand and make sure the suffering seamen on the deck force stay on their hands and knees and chip paint expertly.
In showing Quaid the last good time he's going to have for those eight years, they don't do him any favors. At the beginning, he's resigned. By the end, after he's learned what he's going to be missing between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six, he's not at all resigned and tries to run away, which earns him a beating. The final scene of Quaid's limp form being hustled up the stairs and rushed through a barred door that slams shut behind him is frightening.
There are some good scenes in the film, such as an argument in a bar over whether the "redneck" bar tender is going to serve Quaid, who is under age, and Young, who is African-American. The bar tender threatens to call the Shore Patrol. Nicholson yanks the .45 automatic from his pocket, slams it on the bar, and shouts, "I AM the Shore Patrol!" to the terrified bar tender.
On the other hand, there is one of those gratuitous inter-service fights in the men's room of a train station, with the three sailors decking three or four Marines without themselves receiving a bruise. They run out of the station convulsed with laughter. "That was GREAT!", one of them shouts. It's only in the movies that fist fights are great.
A mixed bag -- moments in which freedom is celebrated alternate with moments of depression and futility. In the end, none of the trio wins. They wind up stuck in their circumstances.
It's not going to be fun for him, though he doesn't realize it. A friend of mine was hustled off to a Marine Brig. He was brought back to collect his gear two days later, a black eye for every day. Michael Moriarty shines in a small part as an Admitting Officer at the brig.
The story is by Daryl Ponicsan, who must know what he's doing when it comes to the Navy, and was touched up by Robert ("Chinatown") Towne. They may have had a hard time filling a feature-length film with incidents. There are stop overs in various cities along the way. The last scene is particularly astringent. The three men are in Boston, granting Quaid's last wish -- to have a picnic. But it's winter. The picnic site in the public park is frozen and dusted lightly with snow. The men struggle to light a fire with green wood. They drink icy beer with shivering hands. Their puff out their breaths in clouds of steam, and Nicholson has forgotten to buy hot dog buns so they must eat the scorched wieners from sharpened twigs. They turn their broad collars up and stomp their feet. It's a total disaster.
But then this is really a disaster movie. Otis Young is a black Gunner's Mate and he's found a home in the Navy. He hates this detail but wants to put in his years without making waves. Nicholson is a Signalman and feels oppressed by regulations and angry at Quaid's fate. In my opinion neither has much to complain about. They're both first-class petty officers. The job of first-class petty officers, especially Boatswain's Mates, is to stand around with a cup of coffee in their hand and make sure the suffering seamen on the deck force stay on their hands and knees and chip paint expertly.
In showing Quaid the last good time he's going to have for those eight years, they don't do him any favors. At the beginning, he's resigned. By the end, after he's learned what he's going to be missing between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six, he's not at all resigned and tries to run away, which earns him a beating. The final scene of Quaid's limp form being hustled up the stairs and rushed through a barred door that slams shut behind him is frightening.
There are some good scenes in the film, such as an argument in a bar over whether the "redneck" bar tender is going to serve Quaid, who is under age, and Young, who is African-American. The bar tender threatens to call the Shore Patrol. Nicholson yanks the .45 automatic from his pocket, slams it on the bar, and shouts, "I AM the Shore Patrol!" to the terrified bar tender.
On the other hand, there is one of those gratuitous inter-service fights in the men's room of a train station, with the three sailors decking three or four Marines without themselves receiving a bruise. They run out of the station convulsed with laughter. "That was GREAT!", one of them shouts. It's only in the movies that fist fights are great.
A mixed bag -- moments in which freedom is celebrated alternate with moments of depression and futility. In the end, none of the trio wins. They wind up stuck in their circumstances.