APOCALYPSE NOW

Captain Willard (Martin Sheen) awakens in a cold sweat in a shithole far from home. He staggers to his feet and peers through the ramshackle shuttered blinds at the window. "Saigon" he murmurs with resignation, "shit. I’m still only in Saigon".

Suffering from a particularly clammy form of jungle fever, Willard spends the week in drunken agony on his bed, still shell-shocked from his time spent in the Cambodian forage ... and longing to be sent back there. His time there has seemingly left him empty in the real world, so incapable of communicating with his wife upon his last visit home that it ended in their divorce.

He just needs another mission to take him back into the jungle, his narration tells us. And, not long after, he gets one – "for his sins": summoned to the office of General Corman (G D Spradlin), Willard is told of a mission that "does not exist, nor will it ever exist".

Flanked by Lucas (a young Harrison Ford), Corman tasks Willard with the duty of travelling into the deepest heart of the Cambodian jungle and killing a higher army officer who has gone mad. Specifically, the highly decorated Colonel Kurtz (Marlon Brando).

Accepting the mission despite the dangers of anonymity that explicitly come with it, Willard is assigned a small group of soldiers to accompany him up the river – and his odyssey twists and turns from there.

Along the way, he meets young bucks such as Miller (Larry Fishburne), fucked up on the narcotics that the army feed them to keep them happy and pumped up to get out there and kick ass – their innocence robbed by the futility of war; hardened warmongers like Kilgore (Robert Duvall), who rides the storm of explosions around him with all the cool of John Wayne; totally gonzo victims of spending too long in the jungle, like the terminally strung-out photo journalist (Dennis Hopper).

All of which Willard soaks up as his soul is gradually swept away in the increasing darkness, until eventually his quest draws him nearer to the enigmatic loony Kurtz ...

It’s a relatively brief synopsis for Francis Ford Coppola’s epic, angry film account of the Vietnam war. But then, is one really necessary?

Those who’ve seen the film will already know of its beauty, its grandeur and masterful use of classical music to not only complement but accentuate some of the most unforgettable images ever brought to screen.

Everyone will remember Duvall’s scene-stealing turn and all have probably quoted his "I love the smell of napalm in the morning" line at some point in their lives. The climax is riveting and haunting, and not just due to the scarring sight of a buffalo being beheaded; the journey there is a true voyage through the soul of man, stopping on the way to savour in demented set-pieces that reveal the darker recesses of the human heart.

Fishburne (before he got all grown-up and wanted people to refer to him as Laurence) holds his own against the more experienced cast, delivering a memorable turn as the youth who loses his innocence to war and drugs; Brando just has to mumble and lurk in the shadows with his bald head occasionally shining under the flicker of naked flames – such is his presence. Sheen is potentially the weakest of the main characters, but even he holds the whole thing together with a convincing mixture of confusion, self-denial and despair.

From the helicopters gracefully sailing through the skies to the strains of Wagner, to the Playboy bunnies’ visit which can’t help but recall the video for Stereophonics’ "The bartender And The Thief" these days, through to the marvellous use of The Doors’ song "The End" as flames engulf the screen, APOCALYPSE NOW is incendiary filmmaking.

But then, you most likely know that already.

I’m sure that even the few people who haven’t seen this masterpiece will still know all about it.

Whether it be the fact that the film went well over budget and schedule, with only Coppola’s megalomaniacal arrogance pushing people to stay even longer in the jungle to complete his grandiose vision of Hell. Or perhaps it’s the unceremonious sacking of Harvey Keitel in the lead role, and Sheen’s subsequent heart attack while on location. Or maybe Hopper’s inability to remember lines, such was his drug intake. All of this and more ... even the making of APOCALYPSE NOW has become the stuff of movie legend.

Which is why this three-disc set, containing literally hours of extra materials, is so vital.

Disc one offers both versions of the film, beginning with the original 1979 theatrical cut.

Within seconds, it’s apparent that this is an awesome High Definition mastering of an already visually sublime film. The 1080p transfer rendered through this MPEG4-AVC file is fantastic: colours are bold without ever being excessive, detail is astounding in its depth and clarity, and blacks hold up superbly adding to a supremely impressive display of contrast and natural film-like warmth. Colours pop off the screen and you will really have the breath knocked out of you on frequent occasion, such is the beauty of APOCALYPSE NOW’s blu-ray treatment.

The aspect ratio is anamorphic 2.35:1 – the original theatrical ratio – not controversial director of photography Vittoria Storaro’s cropped 2.00:1 ratio of previous releases.

Audio-wise, the film is served just as greatly. English audio comes in rousing choices of 5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio and 2.0 DTS Surround. The former will blow you away, in particular. Optional English subtitles are well-written and easy to read.

Also on disc one and boasting the same sublime audio and video specifications, we’re treated to Coppola’s 2001 remix, APOCALYPSE NOW REDUX.

This sees the mad director take an already legendary classic slice of cinema and play around with the arrangement of scenes, as well as shortening a few set-pieces while considerably lengthening others. The footage salvaged from the cutting room floor has little of dramatic consequence (although a few more characters are introduced to the story) and ultimately slows the pace down.

Although still a great film in its own right, and thankfully unhindered by any George Lucas-type mission to fuck things up with modern CGI (purists are most likely to bemoan the sudden insertion of end titles ), REDUX makes you really feel its additional 40-odd minutes of footage (an extended dalliance with the Playboy bunnies, for example).

The best thing about REDUX is that it offers a few more minutes of Brando being cuckoo in the jungle. Still, if you’re going to release APOCALYPSE NOW, people are always going to want to see both versions. So, here it is.

The only extra on disc one is a comprehensive and refreshingly honest commentary track from Coppola. Given that there is a shitload of film to get through (over seven hours between the two versions of the main feature), it seems reasonable that the rest of the bonus features are to be found on discs two and three.

An attractive animated main menu page leads to pop-up menus including scene-selections for each version of the film. These both offer access via 19 chapters.

Disc two is host to a whole plethora of extras. Deep breath then, as I list them below:

A 49-minute interview with John Milius, one of the film’s credited screenwriters.

A 12-minute chat with Fred Roos, who acted as casting director on the production.

An hour-long conversation with Coppola and Sheen, which is one of the most interesting insights on the disc and well worth giving a once-over.

"The Mercury Theatre On Air", a 37-minute original broadcasting of ‘Hearts of Darkness’ culled from November 1938.

"The Hollow Men" (17-minute featurette).

30 minutes of additional scenes, including one 3-minute clip that was previously thought to have been lost.

No fewer than nine more featurettes looking into various other aspects of the production: the colour palette of the film; the sound design; the editing, etc.

"Apocalypse Then And Now" is the usual location scout, and is brief at only 4 minutes in length.

A 39-minute documentary charting Coppola’s journey to promote the REDUX cut at the 2001 Cannes Film Festival is much better.

An animated main menu page, different to that of disc one, offers instant access to each of the above extras. Subtitles are available in several languages though not, curiously, English.

Over on disc three, we get Eleanor Coppola’s oddly riveting 1991 documentary HEARTS OF DARKNESS: A FILMMAKER’S APOCALYPSE.

The director’s wife films on the shoot of the notoriously troubled production, amassing a wealth of footage that stands as testament to Coppola’s ego, his aggressive genius, his arrogant determination and ultimately his fragility as it all starts to become too much for him.

Still, he gets there in the end – despite the weather, the budget, and Dennis Hopper at his maddest.

Contributions from all principle players, as well as the likes of George Lucas and an increasingly batty Coppola, keep the pace going in-between footage of everything falling to pieces. Coppola’s ego may be a little too much for some to stomach, but Eleanor films and narrates with such candid intrusion that you’ve got to love the raw honesty which ultimately shines through. Along the way, it’s a comedy of errors: Brando refusing to allow extra time for rewrites; sets demolished by typhoons; adverse press back home while the on-location Government refuses to work with the filmmakers ...

Pieced together in 1991 and benefitting from excellent retrospective interviews, it’s one of the best making-of documentaries ever made.

The film is presented uncut (caribou violence intact, animal lovers be warned) in its original 1.33:1 window-boxed ratio. Although given the HD treatment, DARKNESS was mostly shot on 16mm and looks suitably rough – nowhere more so than during the opening five minutes. It doesn’t harm the enjoyment any.

Audio is provided in choices of English or German 2.0 Stereo DTS-HD Master Audio. Listening to the English track, it’s a very good proposition of equally balanced channels throughout. Optional subtitles are provided in English and several other languages.

An audio commentary track from the Coppolas provides even further insight into this mentally unstable time, and is a great listen as a result.

Extras on disc three are rounded off by a John Milius script excerpt with Coppola notes, a collection of storyboards, and several galleries of photographs, lobby cards, press kits etc. The gallery relating to promotional materials also houses the film’s original theatrical trailers.

Although the packaging was not made available for review, it appears APOCALYPSE NOW is being given a set of equal worth to its American "Full Disclosure Edition" release of last year: a digipack containing all three discs comes housed in a card slipcase, along with a 24-page collectible booklet, a second booklet and five souvenir postcards boasting candid on-location photographs by Mary Ellen Mark. All on-disc extras appear identical to those that our friends overseas enjoyed.

This is a phenomenal set for a phenomenal film. For once, the term "definitive" is wholly justified.

Review by Stuart Willis