Somehow, Robert McNamara left this part out of the shameful book he wrote to disavow
his responsibility for presiding over the Vietnam War. Of course, it is
fictional, because living dinosaurs were never discovered in-country. However,
it aptly represents the bad decision-making imposed from above on junior officers,
NCO’s, and their squads and platoons, by politicians and senior officers. Fortunately,
Vulture Squad has a talent for improvising and an aversion to buck-passing.
Consequently, when they discover a top-secret Soviet operation unleashed
dinosaurs in Vietnam, they take decisive counter-measures in director-screenwriter
Luke Sparke’s Primitive War, which is now playing in theaters, via
Fathom Events.
Col.
Amadeus Jericho allowed Sgt. Baker to hand pick the “Dirty Dozen”-worthy
members of his Vulture Squad, because he knew Baker could get the job done.
Thanks to their latest rescue operation, there will be two less missing POW’s. Obviously,
their next mission will be dicey, considering Jericho’s caginess regarding the
on-the-ground circumstances. Baker’s men are supposed to extract any surviving
Green Berets and report any unusual observations. Presumably, the dinosaurs
will qualify.
It
turns out this is all the Soviets’ fault, particularly Dr. Borodin, the mad
scientist whose experiment opened a wormhole, which all the really dangerous
dinosaurs stepped through (as well as some of the herbivores, like stegosauruses
and brontosauruses). Baker even captures a motivated informant, paleontologist
Sophia Atalar, who was recruited by Borodin to study the dinosaurs. Despite his
orders, Baker realizes Vulture Squad must stop Borodin’s research by any means
necessary. However, to reach the hidden Soviet base, Baker and his men must
evade a squad of raptors and a pair of very upset tyrannosaur parents.
It is
important to note some of the worst dinosaur effects come in early scenes, so resist
snap judgements. As the film progresses, the quality of the dinosaur renderings
improves dramatically. In fact, some of the later scenes are shockingly cool.
In all likelihood, if Primitive War had released a year before Jurassic
Park, it would still be considered legendary.
Regardless,
the depictions of warfighting are always viscerally gritty and realistic. There
is nothing cartoony about Vulture’s Squad’s recon and rescue business. If
anything, depicting the battles and wartime conditions took priority over the
dinosaur apocalypse. Yet, the mordantly sly, cynical, and foul-mouthed dialogue
rings even truer than the scrupulously realistic blood and muck.
The
ensemble cast couldn’t get much grittier either, starting with Ryan Kwanten as
steely Sgt. Baker. Arguably, this is his best film work in years. The rest of
the squad also looks and acts credibly battle-tested. Sparke does not exactly
over-indulge in backstories or character-building, but Carlos Sanson, Nick
Wechsler, and Aaron Glenane have sufficient screen presence to differentiate
and distinguish their characters.
Well into the 1950s, the northern Manhattan neighborhood of Inwood was
considered the most rural area in the borough. Technically, it could still be.
Traditionally, it was also predominantly Irish Catholic. Not surprisingly, the
locals took exception to antiwar protesters who casually smeared the troops as “baby
killers.” Out of that shared frustration, Chickie Donohue, a peace-time veteran
and Merchant Marine, hatched a scheme to deliver beer to his neighborhood
friends serving in-country. Much to everyone’s surprise, especially the
soldiers in combat, Donohue followed-through. His real-life adventure is now
the subject of Peter Farrelly’s The Greatest Beer Run Ever, which
premieres today on Apple TV+.
Donohue
still lives at home, because he and his mother think it would be a waste to pay
rent while he is gone for months at a time with the Merchant Marine (who also
have a crucial role to play during times of war). However, that means there are
plenty of opportunities for arguments with his anti-war activist sister. During
a gripe-session with the “Colonel,” the bartender at their local watering hole,
Donohue latches on to a crazy idea to deliver beers to the troops in Vietnam,
as a way to express their appreciation. However, it was not a totally
unrealistic idea for Donohue, because there happened to be a supply ship
leaving for Saigon that still had a vacancy.
With
a duffle bag full of Pabst and a list of names and general locations, Donohue
sets off, naively heedless of the chaos and danger he would be stepping into.
For the sake of dramatic cohesion, Farrelly and co-screenwriters Brian Hayes
Currie and Pete Jones compressed Donohue’s months-long mission into a 72-hour
pass—over the final days of January, 1968, thereby raising the dramatic stakes,
as those who know their history will immediately understand.
Clearly,
Farrelly is going for a Good Morning Vietnam vibe, but Greatest Beer
Run proves that is easier said than done. It so obvious Farrelly and his
co-writers feel duty-bound to criticize the war, without attacking the troops in
the way so many New Left protesters did. As a result, the film twists itself
into pretzels, not infrequently questioning the motives and integrity of the
government and top military brass, while attempting to sympathize with the
enlisted men. It almost reaches Jekyll-and-Hyde extremes.
Indeed,
Coates, the war correspondent played by Russell Crowe is supposed to be one of
the good guys, but his smug moral superiority is absolutely nauseating.
Regardless, he cannot help comparing unfavorably with Donohue, whom Zac Efron portrays
winning earnestness—and nebbishness, very much contrary to his image. This is
definitely some of his best work.
Many
people no longer understand America fought the Vietnam War alongside many
coalition partners, notably including the South Koreans, who contributed the
second most troops after the U.S. Even our Brazilian friends joined to the war
effort, albeit on a much smaller scale. Australian and New Zealand were also very
much present and accounted for. In fact, they fought like absolute Hell during the
Battle of Long Tan. A mere 108 ANZAC soldiers held off over two thousand North
Vietnamese. Long Tan comes life in bloody but enormously cinematic fashion in
Kriv Stenders’ Danger Close, which opens today in New York.
It
is 1966 and at first blush, the Anzacs look like the sort of good-natured mates
and blokes we expect from Aus and NZ. However, it is quickly apparent that does
not describe Maj. Harry Smith. The former commando drives his men hard—maybe too
hard—but the discipline he instills gives them the best chance of surviving the
war. At least that is what his lieutenants thought until they were dispatched
to the overgrown Long Tan rubber plantation.
Intelligence
suggested there was maybe a platoon or two in the area. Unfortunately, it
quickly becomes apparent Smith’s divided forces have been flanked by at least a
battalion and perhaps a full regiment. Yet, instead of retreating (as per
orders), Smith regroups and reunites his men and digs in to hold off the North Vietnamese. It will be rough for everyone.