What makes "First Blood" so bizarrely effective is how it works on more than just a literal level. Fans of simple shoot-'em-up action can revel in the film's near-implausible carnage, but underneath it all is a metaphor that feels more genuine than anything seen in a long time. Rambo struggles to survive via violent, chaotic clashes with the bullying police and the comically inept National Guard that represent something deeper and more common: the struggle of Vietnam survivors to readjust to life in the United States. As he wails and screams in his climactic monologue about the war, he finds himself having his freedoms and rights taken away by the very people whose freedoms and rights he went to Vietnam to protect. It's a brilliantly complex analysis of the war and its tumultuous, far-reaching effects, one that defies politics and platitudes. I've never seen such a seemingly over-the-top action extravaganza done with such a convincing and shatteringly powerful "ulterior motive." Shot in British Columbia, the movie has a dingy, foggy, where's-that-bright-yellow-thing-from-the-sky look to it. There are certain visual parallels to "The Deer Hunter," but "The Deer Hunter" this ain't. Stallone gives what is arguably his one great performance, a sobering blend of anarchic physicality and perfect on-cue histrionics-- combined with a level of articulateness that mercifully takes this character in the full opposite direction from Rocky Balboa, which I was not expecting. And while the music score isn't one of Jerry Goldsmith's best, the main theme is one of his best individual compositions, and the music is well above average for both building suspense and evoking sincere emotion. Though it doesn't have the character name in the title, this may be the only "Rambo" movie that was actually about Rambo-- the real Rambo, not the human action figure-- and as such it is vastly under-appreciated.
Review of First Blood
