This God-damn Fucking Place

By Matthew Holley

[1] This scene is perhaps one of the most powerful and moving scenes in any movie ever made. What gives the gruesome depiction so much weight is its detailed depiction of what life was like for a disabled Vietnam veteran trying to survive in the bleak conditions of a Veteran’s hospital.

[2] The scene literally starts with Ron Kovic’s world being turned upside down. The first image is of a disgusting pile of vomit, and the camera slowly pans up to show Ron fastened into a therapeutic bed contraption as he faces down towards the floor and his lost lunch. He presses the nurse call button and screams for help frantically, but it seems that nobody is paying any attention to him. Finally, a nurse appears, but much of her appearance is initially masked. The camera remains focused on Ron and his frustration. The nurse shifts the bed in motion, and the struggling veteran’s world in one minor way starts to shift back into a normal condition as he ends up facing the ceiling again.

[3] In the context of the surrounding scenes and the overall plot pace and progression of Born on the Fourth of July, it can be assumed that Oliver Stone really wanted to show the American public an intimate portrayal of what life was like for the soldiers who were unfortunate enough to truly earn a Purple Heart. The deplorable depiction of the hospital that Kovic stays in is shown in a pallet of grey and depressing colors, with little connection to the outside world. No visitors are present, rats roam the floors, and doctors are nowhere to be found. While Kovic and the other patients look like they haven’t received a bath or a haircut in months, Nurse Washington appears all done up with make-up on. The nurse staff seems to possess great disdain for the needy wounded war veterans, and Washington quickly talks down to Ron as he asks her why she has left him there soaking in his own excrement. When another orderly arrives, there is more lack of compassion. The second nurse comments about how little they care about the Vietnam War and the sacrifices from the men in that hospital. With no empathy, the orderly suggests that the real war going on is for his civil rights, which is ironic because as he preaches about rights, he neglects to help a poor man stripped of all his liberties.

[4] As Stone progresses from his “war is hell” depiction in his prior Vietnam film Platoon, one of the central messages that he looks to show with Born on the Fourth of July is the ugly, ignored war that these soldiers fight alone as they return wounded. This particular scene maintains an extremely close-up and direct view of Ron throughout, emphasizing his pain, familiarizing viewers with it, and thus creating a feeling of desperation. Kovic screams out repeatedly in the scene, and ultimately he ends up crying as he begs to just have someone treat him like a human being. The choice to show Ron in such a constricted state further assists in showing just how helpless these soldiers are. To no avail, Ron pounds on the body constraint that binds him and begs and pleads that someone pay attention to him. Amidst the calls out for help, he asserts multiple times that the basic assistance that he seeks should be something that he has earned since he served his country, he was a United States Marine, and he is a Vietnam vet.

[5] As a war veteran myself with some experience with the post-war medical machine and the Veteran’s Hospital system, I can say that I definitely feel a direct connection to this scene. The shortcomings that have come to light in the medical treatment our current generation of wounded warriors suffer show Ron and Stone’s point still hasn’t been gotten. When I saw Ron begging for genuine attention on that prison like bed, I imagined the faces of my friends who were injured overseas. We have come a long way, I hope, but even now the budget short-falls end up putting many soldiers into unsuitable arrangements. Stone’s fictitious hospital seems to foreshadow many of the problems that, as I write, we have now come to associate with the Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington: rotten floors, mold build-up, and substandard attention being paid to struggling soldiers.

[6] I understand the position that budget constraints play on treatment facilities, but, like Ron in that bed, I sometimes feel like beating my hands down and screaming out that empathy, attention, and compassion should never be scrapped for any price. It could be argued that there just isn’t the means to support all of the unexpected casualties, but the swift proficiencies that take place when they ship us off to war should be just as prevalent when we return.

[7] My unit got orders to ship out for Iraq, and they had us completely processed and ready to fly in mere days. They mobilized 25,000 troops with clock-like efficiency. When we got home, we all attended some superficial seminars, and we were just expected to figure out how to make ourselves whole again. The seminars, meetings, and drugs available to us are likely huge improvements from the Vietnam days, but things quickly get sluggish. Like the ignorant nurses that strut up to Kovic’s bedside, the system today just doesn’t seem to understand the severity of our need for complete rehabilitation. As I went through the Ending Time of Service (ETS) processing at the completion of my contractual service obligation, military regulation mandated that I receive counsel on how to apply for continuation of medical treatment and medication benefits. I submitted my claim to continue receiving needed attention and assistance for my anxiety and depression conditions. Several months would pass before I would receive a letter notifying me that my claim had been denied because of a lack of documentation. When I finally enrolled in college courses, intent on using all of my Veteran’s education benefits, it would take five months before I’d receive any financial assistance I was entitled to. I am just thankful that I wasn’t in need of a blood pump to keep me from having my leg amputated.

[8] Ultimately, this scene attacks the soul. Tom Cruise in his performance of Ron Kovic in this scene really shows us just how much war can take from us. Tom is famous for his boyish looks and charm, surely similar to how Ron himself was perceived as a young man growing up, but this scene and Ron’s real-life experience leaves our ideal man behind. There needs to be greater attention paid to the aftermath of these conflicts. There is less of a need for well-to-do protesters and more of a demand for genuine compassion and action to improve the rehabilitation.