First Blood

If it were not for one thing, this movie would get the full boat. That one thing is what sets off the entire sequence of events. The sheriff’s reaction to a guy passing through his town is bizarre and disproportionate. “With that flag and that jacket, you’re asking for trouble.” How? I know I was only 5 when the movie came out, so I wasn’t quite cognizant of how much the country had healed from Nam, but really … the presence of a military jacket would piss people off? In a rural town, which typically runs more conservative and military-friendly? Sure, okay, whatever, movie. But beyond that, this is an amazing movie. It isn’t the bullets and bodies extravaganza the series would become known for, but a thoughtful examination on two sides of the Vietnam War: those who lost a piece of themselves when they came back, and those who had no sympathy the boys who went over and what they went through. Sylvester Stallone is a seething coiled snake, just looking for somewhere and someone to convince him to strike, and Sheriff Teasel is that antagonist. The cat and mouse game of survival is thoroughly engrossing to watch as Rambo outwits the small town cops and part-time National Guardsmen who hunt him. And then you get to the final scene, with Rambo talking with his CO, and you realize how damaged he truly is. How he’s waged this war because war is all he has. He knows nothing else, the world won’t let him know anything else, so he’s decided to go out his way. The ending reframes the entire movie as a sad, broken man, lashing out because he knows no better, paradoxically trying to relive something that haunts him every day. It’s poetic and moving and depressing all at once. A must-watch, both for the well-stages action, and what surprisingly turns out to be a thoughtful rumination on PTSD.