Johnny Got His Gun (1971)

I chose this film on the basis of its apparent popularity (mixed across sites) without looking at the subject matter. When I read the Netflix jacket, it sounded like it would become the most depressing movie I'd ever seen. Normally I take a while to give my overall opinion in a review, but this time I might as well tell you up front: I was right. What follows the jump cut is not for the faint of heart.

The 20-something soldier protagonist (Timothy Bottoms) is not named Johnny, as in the old-school military rallying call, but Joe. In World War I, right in the opening sequence, he gets bombed, losing all four limbs and basically his entire face (mercifully, we don't get to see what's left in their places) but not his life, biologically speaking. The hospital sees no way to determine his identity. The head doctor believes Joe can't even think or feel pain anymore. Alas, he can do both. Left with only a honed tactile sense and a movable neck, he has to come to grips with where he can possibly go from here.

Joe's present reality is shown in black and white, but about half the 111-minute runtime consists of flashbacks, dreams, and daydreams in color. He has some trouble telling which is which. You may think it should be obvious that any experience in which he can see, hear, or do much of anything is not his present reality, but who can blame him for wishing he could wake from his true nightmare?

Some flashbacks seem to exist for the purpose of fleshing out Joe so we feel even sorrier for him. We don't know of any sins that come anywhere near warranting his fate. Other scenes are more philosophically relevant, as when Joe's father (Jason Robards) defines "democracy" only as something for young men to kill and/or die for. If that's how caustically Dalton Trumbo opined about it, no wonder he got blacklisted.

The dreams and daydreams may provide the most admirable artistry in the picture. Of course, it's early '70s Hollywood artistry, so your mileage may vary. In two scenes written by an uncredited Luis Buñuel, a whole-looking Joe interacts man to man in a military tent with Jesus (Donald Sutherland). The depiction is about as respectful as in the previous year's Jesus Christ Superstar, so you might deem it mildly blasphemous, tho I recognize it's probably just Joe's imagination. Unsurprisingly, Joe does not hold onto his faith.

If there's one good thing about living in such a miserable condition, it's that you may gain a new level of appreciation for things that didn't mean much to you before. Joe is outright ecstatic when a nurse finally lets him into the sunlight, facilitating his ability to count the days. Another nurse, perhaps out of sheer compassion, seems out to fill the void of his missing girlfriend.

Oh, but these were the days when the trends of antiwar sentiment and unhappy endings were in full swing. Only that factor plus an ideologue at the helm could explain why Joe gets the least hopeful ending possible.

Ostensibly, the moral is "Don't send people to war" and/or "Don't be a soldier in war." It could also be "Allow euthanasia." Joe's scenario certainly makes the option more tempting than in Million Dollar Baby or even The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. But if you ask me, Trumbo pushed too far. How many people in history, wartime or not, have lost that much of their bodies and still survived with their minds intact for years? And how many of those lost all contact with family, friends, and anyone else who cared about them as something more than an obligation? If the point is to scare us with real-life prospects, look to a real-life story or something very close.

I think the best reason to watch a film like this today is to feel better about your own life by comparison. If that's not a prime selling point to you, then I can't recommend it.