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Dallas.

Vietnam haunts Oliver Stone, who served there. That was clear enough in Platoon, which, faults and all, is the most scorching combat film about that war, and in Born on the Fourth of July, about a maimed survivor. For me, Stone's Vietnam experience is what lies behind JFK (Warner Bros.). In most of the plentiful comment about the picture, the implication has been that Stone wanted to make a film about John Kennedy's assassination and that, out of the many explanations of the crime, he chose a questionable one. This is backward, I'd say. I think he made this film because Jim Garrison's theory contends that Kennedy wanted to curtail American involvement in Vietnam while other powerful people wanted it to grow. Vietnam is what led Stone to Kennedy: he felt that the anti-Kennedy conspirators ultimately caused the Asian hell that he saw.

My theory about Stone is at least as sound as his about the assassination. He determined to do this film after reading Garrison's book, which (reportedly) argues that Kennedy was murdered by the military-industrial complex and its friends in order to increase the American presence in Vietnam. (Stone also acquired an assassination book by Jim Marrs. ) He engaged the editor of Garrison's book, Zachary Sklar, to collaborate with him on the screenplay. The film posits that Kennedy had begun an American withdrawal -- he had in fact ordered a thousand "advisers" to return -- and that Lyndon Johnson conspired with tycoons and the Pentagon to prevent further withdrawals. (What Kennedy's future Vietnam policy might have been is far from certain, but even Tom Wicker, a severe critic of the film's historicity, concedes "that Kennedy might not have expanded the war as President Johnson did in 1964.") JFK begins with a clip of Eisenhower's attack on the military-industrial complex, and it ends with a statement of Vietnam casualties -- 58, 000 Americans, millions of Asians. For Oliver Stone, set on his fiery if tendentious course, Dealey Plaza leads to the Tonkin Gulf.

Charges of exaggerations in the film, omissions, fantasies, have crammed newspapers and magazines for weeks. Stone's defense sidesteps many of the charges -- about the Vietnam connection and other matters -- and concentrates on what he now calls his prime purpose: to pillory the Warren Commission Report and other cover-ups. (He might have added that such a cover-up is not new: there are still unanswered questions about Lincoln's murder.) A comment in a recent issue of The Economist is relevant: To criticize the details of Mr. Stone's "theory" misses why it is so seductive. The barely stated premise of JFK is that the assassination of Kennedy was a historical watershed. Had he not been killed, everything would have been different. No Vietnam. No race riots. No drug culture. Instead, Camelot. It is a view Mr. Stone has expressed again and again in interviews. It is also a view shared, more or less consciously, by millions of Americans. If the assassination changed so much, the argument continues, it seems all the more implausible that it could have been the work of a lonely fool like Oswald; an event so big surely deserves a big villain, such as the military-industrial complex.

A film such as this has special responsibilities, which I don' t mean to ignore; but first a word about something that its detractors tend to scant -- JFK itself. The film is a whirlwind, a torrent. Its fierce main current, the Garrison story, sweeps along with attendant swirls and eddies. Stone keeps that story -- and its references and hypotheses -- as visible as possible, aiming at increased clarity rather than pyrotechnics, yet it is virtuoso work. He mixes actualities, like bits of the Zapruder film, with seeming actualities in color or in grainy black and white. (Objectors to this method presumably would have had him label his own work "simulation." A more appropriate label, if one is needed, would be "speculation.") Throughout the cascading film I kept wanting to see more, more, more -- and it runs three hours. (It happened both times I saw JFK.)

Even when there's a sense of manipulation -- Garrison meets an informant in D.C. in front of the Lincoln Memorial and they end their conversation with the Washington Monument in the background -- it never seems shrewd cynicism, only a somewhat wide-eyed eagerness to believe. Very few Hollywood people today make films primarily out of conviction, particularly political conviction. Admittedly it's easy to overvalue JFK because it's a rarity that way, but it's also easy to undervalue it cinematically because of its political and historical garishness.

Garrison, the New Orleans district attorney in November 1963, is worried by the way the Kennedy assassination has been investigated. Three years later he finds reasons to prosecute Clay Shaw, a prominent New Orleans businessman, on conspiracy charges in connection with the murder. Government agencies like the cia are mentioned. (The homosexuality of Shaw and friends is dramatized, not as criminal but as a linkage in this group.) Garrison's evidence presents questions about the Kennedy murder that are still unanswered; but he loses the case. (A closing title informs us that Shaw, who died in 1974, was subsequently identified by Richard Helms as a cia agent, but of course this doesn't necessarily tie Shaw to the killing.) Garrison remains convinced that powerful forces have conspired to conceal the truth, which may not be known until 2029, when the files of the House Select Committee on Assassinations will be opened.

Kevin Costner plays Garrison, and patently the real Garrison was cosmeticized in several ways. Probably this was part of the price of getting a highly bankable star for the role and of keeping him bankable. As a Garrison fictionalized in temperament and focus, Costner is engaging. He's not a powerful actor, but he's a friendly one. The film is capped with his lengthy address to the jury in the Shaw trial. I'd suggest that if Costner is going to play Jimmy Stewart parts he ought to listen to Stewart's voice. Costner's is limited.

Sissy Spacek has the stock, tiresome role of a wife -- this time named Mrs. Garrison -- imploring her busy husband to spend more time with her and the children. (One curious Freudian moment: the news of Robert Kennedy's assassination proves a sexual stimulant to Mr. and Mrs. G.) Tommy Lee Jones plays Shaw with unexpected poise and elegance. Kevin Bacon, as one of his homosexual friends, has perfect modulation, attack, implication. Joe Pesci, in the best performance of his that I've seen, plays David Ferrie, another of the gay band, bewigged and with false eyebrows, moving us with his fear for his life. Donald Sutherland is the Deep Throat of this story (a character synthesized from several men) who meets Garrison in Washington; he invests his one long sequence with the authenticity that is as natural to him as breathing. John Candy, as a lawyer friend of Garrison's in New Orleans, shows yet again that he is not just a fat man employed because of his size, he is a genuine actor. Ed Asner, cast against type, plays a brutal reactionary private eye; Jack Lemmon manages to overact even in the small role of his sidekick. These major people in minor roles are votes of confidence in Stone, no more clearly so than with Walter Matthau's brief appearance as Senator Russell Long. (The real Garrison is hastily visible as Earl Warren.)

Robert Richardson, Stone's usual cinematographer, has given the flashbacks verite and the "present" sequences a prevalent golden-red "southern" light. The editors, wizards both, were Joe Rutshing and Pietro Scalia. With Stone, all three of these men have made a film whose onward course can almost be heard -- the whole notes, the half and quarter and eighth and sixteenth notes, the trills, the glissandi. Consistent with this aural image, the film seems to have an unceasing low roar under it until there's a sudden break for the quiet in which Costner makes his long courtroom speech.

Cinematically, JFK is almost a complete success. (The tedious Garrison family scenes are a bow to necessity.) But is it fitting that the very power of this film should serve questionable history? The customary acceptance of historical inaccuracy in art works -- in Shakespeare, Schiller, Shaw, for instance -- is slight defense here. Or to take a film example: few historians would endorse the values, or all the details, in John Ford westerns, but to everyone save the mentally unbalanced, Ford's values and details are the lineaments of an American romance; and contemporary application is slight. Viewers of JFK, however, might find themselves shaken in their views of government, society, the media. Certainly this disruption might be salutary for us -- if it were more soundly based.

The whole situation resolves, for me, to a state of tension among five elements. First, JFK is a fine piece of filmmaking. Second, it is a passionate work in an art that is mostly treated as an industry. Third, it distorts facts in the assassination theory it presents. Fourth, it strongly underscores our incomplete knowledge about the assassination and possible conspiracy. (Let's all check this in 2029. ) Fifth, although the proof that Kennedy was killed because of the war is very slim, the film is one more outcry against the waste and horror of Vietnam. As with a prism, we can rotate this set of elements so that we are looking at only one of them at a time. But even while we are looking at only one of them, all the other elements are true.

By Stanley Kauffmann



New Republic is the property of New Republic and may not be copied without the express written permission of New Republic

Kauffmann, S., Dallas.., Vol. 206, New Republic, 01-27-1992, pp 26.


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