FIRST BLOOD. Rambo’s screen debut is a fully deserved cult classic

“I married Rambo!” says Helen Tasker in True Lies. “Rambo, help the police” reads the graffiti on walls. A Rambo-style film, a Rambo t-shirt, tattoos… People with the nickname Rambo, dogs with that name… This name is etched into our memory sharply, as if cut by a large knife with a serrated edge. Rambo shot into our consciousness forever. Globally and profoundly. Just like the film’s hero, the actor portraying him is an icon. After all, Stallone is Rambo, and Rambo is Stallone. Rambo is not a cardboard character or just a mass of muscles. He is a bundle of nerves, agitated by heavy experiences. He is a complex character, something many have forgotten. At least he was in the first installment of the series, the one in which – though it’s hard to believe – only one person dies. And the first blood is shed.

Rambo, a Vietnam War veteran, arrives in the town of Hope. The local sheriff makes him realize that he is treated as a vagrant here and needs to leave. The silent man in a military jacket decides to stay. Pressured by the cops, he eventually resorts to self-defense and then to a furious war using all available firepower.

This one-and-a-half-hour film from 1982 has retained all its power, hardly aging in any aspect. It lacks weak elements and unnecessary scenes. Instead, it delivers a powerful dose of emotions. Stallone is largely responsible for this, perfectly fused with his role as the world-rejected wanderer, along with the compelling story – simple but universal. Although the film addresses the issue of American Vietnam veterans (considered a “necessary evil” in their country and often battered by post-traumatic stress), the anger stemming from the sense of rejection is known worldwide.

We also cannot forget the technical side of the film – impressive and efficient, yet not overwhelming. The Canadian forests provided the creators with a beautiful, raw setting. The cold, grayness, and moisture build a suggestive atmosphere. We watch a survival film, but the director ensures not only good pacing and spectacular clashes. Equally important are the relationships between characters and the portrayal of the veteran’s wounded, torn consciousness. Stallone is perfect as Rambo. He has the gaze of a wounded animal and a certain innocence, but he can instantly transform into a war machine. He convinces us when he takes down a few cops, as well as when he starts to cry in the film’s final moments. His monologue reveals the immense pain the character endures daily, and Stallone is as far from being a macho as possible here. He also clearly indicates that he is a huge fan of James Dean. Interestingly, he doesn’t become a caricature of testosterone but sensitively refers to the “nervous” acting tradition. The actor, without a trace of falsehood, shows us the despair of a man whose life is an unhealed war wound. Every look reminds us that Rambo – though resilient on some level – has been irrevocably “cut out” from society. He lives in the past, the present rejects him, and the future looks bleak. He is as alienated as another war movie veteran, the protagonist of Taxi Driver. There, too, traumas and existential tones were expressed, but it is Rambo, not the psychopathic Travis Bickle, who has our full understanding. The latter was a threat to himself and society; the former becomes one when he encounters contempt and aggression from the cops. We give him permission to burn Hope to the ground. We welcome acts of destruction. These channel the hero’s anger, and thus ours (I dare say: we are all hurt and humiliated), and they settle scores with a rotten reality. They are almost devoid of human casualties – Rambo is not a “body count” performer in this installment.

War is a nightmare. The Netflix documentary series about Vietnam or Michael Herr’s incredible book Dispatches clearly show how destructive the conflict in Asia was on people. Ted Kotcheff’s film, while great entertainment with traumas in the background, also reminds us of this. The director of the film previously made the shocking Wake in Fright. There, he showed not only great craftsmanship but also a need to explore the dark instincts within humans. Here he softens the means of expression but still holds the viewer by the throat.

Composer Jerry Goldsmith did an excellent job. We have a great main theme, plenty of melancholy, and dynamic support for the action scenes. The soundtrack works on every level, contributing significantly to the film’s cult status. Brian Dennehy, the film sheriff, proves that ordinaryness can be played perfectly without a single false note. Richard Crenna as Colonel Trautman is more ambiguous and perhaps somewhat grotesque in his role, but he provides an interesting and colorful counterpoint to the other characters, eliciting strong emotions in them. This original – master of symbolic anecdotes and apt metaphors, philosophical and somewhat ironic – is already a flagship character of the series. The actor played it twice – in the Rambo series and in Hot Shots! Part Deux, where the adventures of the long-haired soldier were humorously mocked.

This title is more of a dramatic thriller than an action movie. A realistic film, which might surprise those associating the brand with gun and grenade mayhem. Rambo still does a solid job. He engages. Moves. Impresses with the simplicity of form and destruction scenes. It is one of those films that magnetically attract to the screen – no matter how many times we have seen it. Therefore, I am not surprised by the high viewership of each subsequent TV broadcast. And no, it is not a cinematic tribute to the military, let alone the police; it is not a love letter to the world of dumb musclemen, as such do not appear here. It is not a pro-war nor entirely anti-war film. It is a film about a hurt man. And a fully deserved cult classic.