Little Boy Blue and the Man in the Moon

Apocalypse Now was originally released in 1979 and won two Oscars—one for cinematography and one for sound editing. The film follows its main character, Captain Benjamin L. Willard through the chaos of Vietnam. His mission is to find a rebel Green Beret Colonel who has assumed a god-like role in a Cambodian village. During the process, Willard and his troops digress to the most primal human behavior. Starkly juxtaposed to the beauty of the terrain, these soldiers are immersed in an unfathomable barbaric chaos.

I am genuinely embarrassed to admit that before yesterday I’d never seen Apocalypse Now. When we were given this assignment I realized that the film, which my father gave me as a birthday gift when I was in High School, was still sitting in it’s packaging on my bookshelf. I am SO glad I unwrapped it. Apocalypse Now was one of the most beautiful, powerful movies I’ve ever seen.

The initial scene of the movie establishes an insane, tumultuous tone. There is a crescendo of music, helicopter blades, and shots of only the captain’s eyes, and flares exploding against a beautiful beach. Immediately, as the audience, I felt the anxiety. As the captain begins to interact with others, the camera captures these interactions from his perspective; when he is spoken to, the editing is such that, the image of whomever is speaking is brief and the camera wanders to hands, food, feet, anything the captain is paying attention to rather than them. This approach makes the viewer realize immediately, how frazzled the captain has become.

After the Captain has been assigned to his mission and is excused, there is another beautiful shot of the beach, followed by another crescendo of helicopter blades. This pattern continues throughout the duration of the film. The helicopter not only signifies the mounting insanity, but pushes the plot forward as well. Immediately following the beauty and insanity, there is a persistent fade to darkness, in which all the soldiers’ thoughts are suspended.

Whenever there is danger, the battlefield is blurred by yellow and red flares. While this is probably an accurate depiction of a battlefield, it also adds an artistic imagery of the danger and rage that blinds the soldiers in this desecration of reality. The most interesting character in the entire film to me, Lieutenant Colonel Bill Kilgore is played by Robert Duvall. Col. Kilgore is assigned to help Captain Willard reach the river to Cambodia. Throughout the battle they fight together, Col. Kilgore is insensitive to murder and makes a point to check out the waves for surfing as he and his troops massacre Charlie, which in this instance, is mostly women and children playing outside of a church. After the battle, the helicopter appears again, and lifts a goat into the air. The shadow of the goat against the sunset is heart wrenching, as well as the goat’s squeal, which is audible over the music and the helicopter. Once the beach is secure, Col. Kilgore spearheads a party, “as if we were home.” “Charlie don’t surf,” Col. thinks he can do anything he’d like. Whenever he speaks to his men, the Col. is shot from below. He appears taller than the rest of them; his position and personality allows him to escape any moral hierarchy. They smell napalm on the beach, and Kilgore finally gets on the men’s level. As he addresses the smell and the war, he gets down on one knee and is finally their size. He expresses a fear that the war will never end. Although this scene and humility is short-lived, the visual impact is profound.

The entirety of the movie is intentional. Every shot is meaningful, and as the mental capacity of the soldiers’ decreases, the darker things become and the more twisted images become. Beauty is destroyed and confused for danger, and vice versa. Danger eventually becomes beautiful, and all modern order is annihilated.

If anyone is as reluctant to watch war movies as I am, and has put this film on the back of the shelf, so to speak, please watch it. It’s an important film. Similar to Lord of the Flies in its effect and portrayal of the human mind in a jungle, the visual images will not soon be forgotten.

I also sat in the "Living Room"

There was plastic on the couches, much like my grandmother's old house, only surprisingly more comfortable. The TV ran a loop of presidential campaign ads since their debut to political culture. The combination of the plastic nostalgia and the historical story told on the screen was somehow very appropriate and added to my positive experience in Queens.

I went to Queens and I liked it.

Let me begin by acknowledging that the prospect of journeying to Queens in the name of a Museum was difficult for me to accept initially. Having said that, Queens isn’t nearly as far as it seems and I found the Museum fun, interesting, and I learned some things.

The first exhibit we saw, Chicago costumes, were cool having seen Chicago because the intricacies and nuances that were right in front of me made up the magnificent visual presentation in the movie. I also loved the Bill Cosby sweaters—they pretty much won me over instantly. Any Museum that has sweaters once rocked by Dr. Huxtable hanging on the wall is worth going to Queens for.
The next thing that made a lasting impression was the wall of portraits of classic movie stars. They’re so elegant, preserved in black and white, forever trapped in their glamorous sets. It was awe-inspiring.
The only hands-on exhibit I participated in was the stop animation station. The demonstration really fascinated me, there was Fluff as a prop, and I made a short movie. Using the computer and doing it myself helped me fully understand the concept.
The last thing we stopped to look at was the collection of old televisions, which I thought was really fascinating. The evolution of technology, especially the accessibility of visual art to society is astounding. It was inspiring to recognize the capacity of growth within the medium I’m interested in telling stories through.
I’m glad I journeyed out to Queens.