Imagine peak small-town Americana – flags, parades, brass bands, baseball and a kid dreaming of dying for his country. Now smash-cut to Vietnam, a grim VA hospital, and a sleazy bar in Mexico full of broken vets. That’s Born on the Fourth of July in a nutshell: the patriotic high followed by the hangover.
Oliver Stone sticks close to Ron Kovic’s real story, and you feel it. The early stretch plays like a recruiting advert – wrestling, Marine posters, John Wayne on telly, mum beaming at the nice man in uniform – before Vietnam turns into chaos, friendly fire and all. One bad decision, one bullet, and the “hero” comes home in a wheelchair with his body, faith, and libido in tatters.
Tom Cruise really goes for it: drunk, ashamed, furious, often hard to like, which is the point. It’s not subtle, but it’s bruising, and it leaves you thinking about the cost long after the fireworks fade.
Disappointing. Nice period details (flower-power era) and depiction of children but rest of it shouty, sweary and confusing. Interesting study of patriotism and political ideology gradually being challenged but felt that there was a much better film in there somewhere.