The World’s Worst River Cruise

Looking for a relaxing boat trip up a scenic river? Then maybe skip Captain Benjamin Willard’s (Martin Sheen) journey into the heart of madness during the Vietnam War. His mission, should he choose to accept it (spoiler: he does, because apparently he’s never seen a war movie before): sail upriver into Cambodia to find Colonel Walter Kurtz (Marlon Brando), a rogue Special Forces officer who’s gone full “started his own death cult” crazy. You know, just your standard military performance review.

Willard, who starts the film with the mother of all hangovers in a Saigon hotel room, gets his mission from intelligence officers who seem surprised that giving someone unlimited power in a war zone might lead to megalomania. Kurtz, once a model officer, has apparently gone off the reservation both literally and figuratively, setting up his own kingdom where he plays God with a side of human sacrifice.

Our protagonist joins a Navy PBR crew that makes the Marx Brothers look well-adjusted. There’s Chief Phillips (Albert Hall) trying to maintain sanity, Lance Johnson (Sam Bottoms) who starts sane and ends up practically joining Kurtz’s fan club, Chef (Frederic Forrest) who just wanted to be a saucier (worst career change ever), and Clean (Laurence Fishburne, all of 14 years old) who’s probably too young to be experiencing any of this.

Their journey upriver is like a demented version of Disney’s Jungle Cruise. First stop: a USO show featuring Playboy Playmates that devolves into chaos faster than you can say “terrible planning.” Next up: the infamous “Charlie don’t surf” sequence where Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore (Robert Duvall) decides the best time to go surfing is during an air cavalry assault. Because nothing says “military strategy” like hanging ten while napalm explodes in the background.

The crew’s encounters get progressively weirder as they head upriver. They massacre a sampan full of civilians over a hidden puppy (definitely not in the Geneva Convention), experience a surreal USO show redux at a French plantation (apparently some folks didn’t get the memo about colonialism being over), and face an attack by natives that kills Clean and drives Chef into new realms of paranoia.

Finally reaching Kurtz’s compound, they find a photojournalist (Dennis Hopper) who makes your average cult member look skeptical. He babbles about Kurtz’s genius while stepping over bodies like they’re speed bumps. Chef gets dispatched to call in an airstrike if Willard doesn’t return, which goes about as well as you’d expect (spoiler: Kurtz returns Chef to Willard… in pieces).

The film’s climax intercuts Willard’s assassination of Kurtz with a ritual buffalo sacrifice, which is probably the most subtle thing that happens in the entire third act. Kurtz’s famous last words – “The horror… the horror…” – could refer to the war, human nature, or possibly just Brando’s script reading process.

The Verdict

What I Love:

• Cinematography that makes you feel like you’re having someone else’s acid flashback
• A soundtrack that turns The Doors’ “The End” into the world’s most ominous boat trip theme
• Helicopter sequences that made the Air Cavalry look like a Wagner opera with better props
• Martin Sheen’s performance, which might actually be a real nervous breakdown
• The fact that Francis Ford Coppola didn’t completely lose his mind making this (debatable)

What Could’ve Been Better:

• Might make you reconsider your upcoming river cruise booking
• Will definitely affect your opinion of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries”
• Could make you suspicious of any military officer who quotes T.S. Eliot

“Apocalypse Now” is what happens when you adapt Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness,” feed it acid, and send it to Vietnam. It’s a masterpiece of controlled chaos that took years off everyone’s life who made it – Sheen had a heart attack, Brando showed up looking like he ate the entire craft services table, and the shoot went so long the Filipino government changed hands during filming.

Rating: 5 out of 5 questionably motivated surf sessions

P.S. – I love the smell of hyperbole in the morning. Smells like… Oscar nominations.