The Big Picture - 5. Nothing Is Over | Do We Get to Win This Time?

Episode Date: August 18, 2023

In the early 1980s, as America is grappling with the fallout of Vietnam, a troubled big-screen vet named John Rambo launches an unlikely movie franchise—and leads a wave of make-believe soldiers who are ready to fight the war all over again.   Other films we talk about in this episode include ‘First Blood’ (1982), ‘Uncommon Valor’ (1983), ‘Missing in Action’ (1984), and ‘Rambo: First Blood Part II’ (1985).  Host: Brian Raftery  Producers: Devon Manze, Mike Wargon, Amanda Dobbins, and Vikram Patel Sound Design: Bobby Wagner  Mixing and Mastering: Scott Somerville  All interviews for this series were conducted before the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes in 2023. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey everyone, if you're enjoying our show, you might also like some of the other narrative podcasts here at The Ringer. Want more history in your life? Try 22 Goals, a chronicle of the Men's World Cup told through the lens of 22 of the most iconic goals ever scored in the tournament. Spoiler alert, it's about a lot more than just soccer. Or maybe, like me, you just can't get enough of pop culture history. If that's the case, check out Just Like Us, a deep dive into the tabloid magazine era.

Not quite sick of my voice yet? Well, in Gene and Roger, I dive into the careers and legacies of legendary movie critics Siskel and Ebert. Two thumbs up for shameless self-promotion. Thanks for listening. Get groceries delivered across the GTA from Real Canadian Superstore with PC Express.

Shop online for super prices and super savings. Try it today and get up to $75 in PC Optimum Points. Visit superstore.ca to get started. To help understand why the Vietnam War and Vietnam movies dominated the 80s, we need to spend one last moment in the 70s. Specifically, the moment in early 1979 when a veteran named Jan Scruggs walked into a movie theater in suburban Maryland. Scruggs had been a teenager when he joined the Army and headed to Vietnam. Not long after arriving, in May 1969,

he was injured by shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade. Scruggs found himself under a tree, bleeding to death, his arm so damaged he couldn't fire his gun. You know, I'm losing consciousness, and I'm looking down and seeing your body, there's a word for that. Well, that's what, that's happened to me. And I just kind of was floating through the clouds, praying that I could get out of this mess.

Scruggs was eventually rescued and spent the next few months in the hospital. He received a Purple Heart for his service, and by the late 70s, he was back in the U.S., working at the Department of Labor. When he had time, Scruggs would sometimes head out to the local movie theater. And so, on that day in 1979, Scruggs and his wife went to see a new film everyone was talking about, The Deer Hunter. Scruggs had watched plenty of war films,

including a few about Vietnam. But The Deer Hunter felt different. He was especially touched by the film's ending, the same one that had divided some critics. You know, when they're all singing God Bless America, you know, it's so, like, touching, bringing to tears. Scruggs walked out of the Deer Hunter feeling shaken. He stayed quiet the whole drive home, and later had trouble falling asleep.

In the middle of the night, Scruggs wound up in his kitchen. He was smoking pot at the time, to help with his post-traumatic stress disorder. He may have also had a drink or two. He can't really remember. But he began having flashbacks to the men he'd seen killed in Vietnam. At one point in the evening, Scruggs picked up a philosophy book and started reading. He began to think about the bigger role he and his fellow vets played in the world at large. Every society has super citizens. They get wounded fighting for their country. They put themselves in harm's way to save others. And these become a societal archetype.

Scruggs had a thought. What about a memorial honoring those who put themselves in harm's way by fighting and dying in Vietnam? I didn't know how I was going to do it, but I decided to do it. And I had a long talk with my wife. She didn't think it was likely to succeed. That's being kind, and everybody else felt the same way. Over the next few years, Scruggs began an effort to raise millions of dollars for the memorial. Politicians pledged their support. Newspaper columnists urged readers to make donations.

And a contest was held for the memorial's design. The winner, created by a 21-year-old Yale architecture student named Maya Ying Lin, featured two black granite walls that, together, formed a V-shape. Critics sprang up immediately. One veteran called it a black ditch that made the war seem like an ugly, shameful experience. And there was opposition among right-wing commentators, some of whom felt the V-shape was mimicking two fingers in a peace sign.

A column in the National Review urged the Reagan administration to pull the plug on the design altogether. But Scruggs also saw an overwhelming show of support from fellow veterans, from politicians, from the media. Finally, in November 1982, the memorial was dedicated at a ceremony in Washington, D.C. Etched on the two walls were the names of the more than 58,000 Americans who were killed in Vietnam, or who were still missing. Scruggs was there that day, speaking in front of thousands in the chilly fall air. He read a letter from another veteran,

one that reminded the audience why a memorial like this was so important. For plaques and wreaths and memorials are reminders, and they would make it harder for your country to sink into the amnesia for which it longs. When he finished, a band struck up the same tune that had made Scruggs weep during the Deer Hunter. In the years ahead, millions of people would visit the memorial, and more names would be added.

The 70s had been what the New York Times called the decade of indifference, the period in which America longed to forget its troubled war. But by the early 80s, Americans were finally ready to acknowledge Vietnam. The wall was a permanent reminder of the war, its impact, its cost, its importance. And its arrival couldn't have been better timed. A new president was now in office, urging his fellow Americans to change their thinking about Vietnam.

And a wave of make-believe soldiers was about to hit the big screen, where they'd fight the war all over again. From Spotify and the Ringer Podcast Network, I'm Brian Raftery, and this is Do We Get to Win This Time? How Hollywood Made the Vietnam War. In the late 60s, right around the time Jan Scruggs landed in Vietnam, a young writer named David Murrell arrived at Penn State University. Murrell was from a small city about an hour outside of Toronto, a place that, back then, didn't get a lot of American news. I had heard nothing about Vietnam. But at Penn State, the war was a constant topic of conversation.

Murrell's fellow students were petrified of being drafted. I remember one of them talking about shooting himself in the foot. That's a trait to not go to Vietnam. And so right away, of course, as a Canadian, I'm wondering what this is. Over the next few years, Morell learned about the situation not just in Vietnam, but also in America. He saw the anti-war protests, the riots in cities like Detroit and Los Angeles, the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy. It was as though he'd come to the U.S. just in time to watch it come undone. I mean, night after night after night, there was violence. And the National Guard were patrolling American streets where cars and buildings had been burned out.

It looked like a war zone. And then on TV, they would cut to a firefight in Vietnam. An empty company held a road between the terrorist stronghold and the Vietnamese headquarters. And I had one of those moments where I said, it's like the war came home. During his Penn State years,

Morrell began teaching. Some of his students were returning Vietnam vets. They told him how difficult it was to transition from wartime to peacetime. That is when I learned about the nightmares. I learned about the reactions to loud noises. I learned about difficulties in relationships, difficulties controlling emotion, alcohol abuse.

And these young men were very forthcoming about their experiences over there. These experiences would influence a book Murrell was writing, one that would take his earlier observation, The War is Coming Home, and bring it to life. It was an action novel, one that follows a quiet Vietnam vet as he passes through a small town in Kentucky. That's where he butts heads with the local police chief, a Korean War vet named Teasel. The cops simply won't leave this kid alone,

leading to a days-long chase through the woods, where the young vet uses his Green Beret skills to survive, and to kill. Murrell's book had a great title, First Blood, but he had a harder time figuring out what to call his main character. The hero of First Blood was a Vietnam vet, and he was tough. I wanted one name, and it had to be The Sound of Force. So I'd be writing, and then I'd have this blank for the name, and then there'd be blank for the name, and the manuscript looked really weird. One day, while Murrell was typing away, his wife brought home some groceries.

Lost in his writing, he grabbed an apple. And she said, it's a Rambo apple. And I said, what? And she said, a Rambo apple. And I said, spell it. And she said, R-A-M-B-O. First Blood was published in 1972. I know this isn't a movie recommendation podcast or a book recommendation podcast, but Morell's book is great,

taut, tense, very satisfying. And it was a hit with enthusiastic reviews in Time and the New York Times. You know, sometimes a book comes out when it should. So in 1972, and attitudes are changing toward the war, and the Kent State killings had occurred. Two years before First Blood's arrival, in 1970, four students at Kent State University were shot and killed by National Guard troops during a protest against America's excursions into Cambodia. The year after that, Daniel Ellsberg, who'd served in the Marines in the 50s and later became a military analyst in Vietnam, leaked a series of top-secret documents. Those files, known as the Pentagon Papers, revealed years' worth of government lies about the war,

sparking outrage. This chain of events, and the anti-war feelings they inspired, wound up giving First Blood extra urgency. The book was about a battle between two fed-up Americans from different generations. I disaffected a Vietnam veteran who's almost like a war protester and a establishment police chief. The two men's determination leads to a bleak, violent climax. I'm not sure if a 50-year-old book needs a spoiler warning, but in the final pages of First Blood, both Rambo and Teasel die, mutual victims of a bloody back and forth. The lesson is clear.

There are no winners except the system. That may have seemed like a bummer of an ending, but Hollywood immediately saw potential in First Blood. The book was optioned for $75,000 right after release and then sat in limbo for years as various directors and writers tried to get it made. There was a first blood in which Betty Davis would have played a psychiatrist who helps calm Rambo down. A first blood with Paul Newman potentially playing Rambo. They didn't work out, and the movie was handed off from one

director to the next. Sidney Pollack himself told me that he and Steve McQueen were going to make that movie, and that Steve was going to be Rambobo and that it was going to be the motorcycle chase. And then people, this so often happens in 1975 now, they just remembered that Steve McQueen was in his mid-40s. Yeah, I was going to say, that is a very generous casting to have Steve McQueen play a young Vietnam veteran. Can't happen. McQueen, Pacino, Travolta.

During the 70s, they'd all be considered for the Rambo role. But each time a director or screenwriter came close to cracking first blood, it fell through. The story, the characters, they just seemed radioactive. An action flick in which the hero is a cop-killing Vietnam veteran, who then dies at the end? Can't happen. But Morel's book eventually found its way to a pair of upstart producers, Mario Kassar and Andy Vina. In the late 70s, they were looking for movies to produce with their new company, Carolco. Kassar got a copy of Morel's book, which he loved, despite being unfamiliar with the war that had inspired it. I had no idea about Vietnam.

Kassar was born in Lebanon and had spent several years in Europe. During that time, the war just wasn't on his radar. Nobody was following it, at least my age. So no idea what was going on, nothing, not interested, not involved, no politics, no nothing. And then by the time I came here, that was over, of course. But Kassar was moved by the story of a soldier fighting for his country, only to return home feeling unwanted. So Kassar and Vina bought the rights from Warner Brothers and set out to make First Blood a reality. They found a director in Ted Kochef,

a Bulgarian-Canadian whose filmography included everything from the football classic North Dallas 40 to the Jane Fonda caper Fun with Dick and Jane. And there was only one actor they wanted for the role. A guy who had experience playing tough-minded underdogs. A guy who could convey years of pent-up frustration without a whole lot of dialogue. A guy who could definitely get ripped for the role. Sylvester Stallone.

Yo, Adrian, you did it! At the time, Stallone was one of the biggest stars in the world. To play Rambo, he would have to be wooed. Extensively. Stallone knew plenty of actors had turned down the role of Rambo. And as he later explained in a DVD commentary track,

he worried the movie was cursed. I thought it was a disastrous idea. I didn't want to do it at all. To win him over, Kassar started hanging out with Sly, trying to sell him on playing Rambo. It was taking forever. And then he had a sailboat, and he said,

oh, I love sailboats, which is not true. I don't like sailboats. And he's a gun lover, so I love guns. Not true. Still, Kassar wanted to impress Stallone. And soon enough, he found himself on a boat, holding a gun. I'm like an idiot.

I'm like shooting. Ah! Fuck, I heard a bell ringing for a week. I couldn't hear from my left ear. But I didn't say anything. I'm like shooting, fuck, I heard a bell ringing for a week. I couldn't hear from my left ear. But I didn't say anything. I acted like everything is cool. I went home, I said, what the fuck, what an idiot I am. But that outing, not to mention the huge paycheck

that was dangled in front of Stallone, helped convince him to take the role. Nearly a decade after Murrell's book had been released, the movie version of First Blood was finally a reality. Filming would commence in British Columbia in November 1981, the same year a very different kind of American strongman was coming into power. The Republican candidate for President of the United States, Governor Ronald Reagan. Let's hear the film again. In August 1980,

just a few months before being elected President of the United States, Ronald Reagan spoke at a Veterans of Foreign Wars conference in Chicago. The subject quickly turned to Vietnam. Americans were reluctant to talk about the war in the early 80s. It was considered by many to have been a blight,

a failure. Reagan used his VFW speech to urge Americans to rethink Vietnam. He used a phrase that had come up throughout his campaign. He called Vietnam a noble cause. We dishonor the memory of 50,000 young Americans who died in that cause when we give way to feelings of guilt as if we were doing something shameful. And he told the crowd that those who'd returned from Vietnam had been dishonored too. They fought as well and as

bravely as any Americans have ever fought in any war. They deserve our gratitude, our respect, and our continuing concern. Vietnam had been a Reagan talking point for years. In 1975, Congress had refused to support Gerald Ford's plan to give South Vietnam hundreds of millions of dollars in aid. Americans pulled out that spring, and Saigon soon fell to communist forces. At the time, Reagan had just ended an eight-year stint as governor of California. He'd been speaking out against communism since his movie star days. In 1947, Reagan served as a friendly witness for the House Un-American Activities Committee, the congressional group

investigating communist activity in Hollywood. Years later, as governor of California, he'd been disgusted by the anti-war movement. Here he is in 1969, dressing down staffers at UC Berkeley after students and police clashed on campus in what became known as the People's Park Riots. Some of you who know better and are old enough to know better, let young people think that they have the right to choose the laws they would obey as long as they were doing it in the name of social protest. Reagan believed communism was already infecting the U.S., and he wanted to put an end to it. So when he saw American forces withdrawing from Vietnam in 1975, he was appalled. In his view, the war had been justified, but poorly executed. Reagan put the blame squarely on Congress,

accusing it of having, quote, blood on its hands. His message to Americans in the 70s was simple. Your country didn't let you down. Washington did. Reagan would push this idea while running for president, and after winning office in 1980, he had an even bigger platform to express his frustrations about the war.

Here he is at a Vietnam veteran ceremony in November 1981, during his first term in office. In his speech, Reagan implies the troops in Vietnam could have been victorious had they not been defeated by their own government. Millions of young Americans, when they were called upon, did their duty and demonstrated courage and dedication in the finest tradition of the American military in a war they were not allowed to win. By this point, Vietnam had been over for more than five years,

and Reagan was starting a new administration and a new decade by dredging up memories of a controversial war. But he knew America was finally ready to confront Vietnam. Keep in mind, he gave this speech right around the time Jan Scruggs was raising millions of dollars for the memorial wall, a sign that the national mood was shifting. It was almost as if Reagan were trying to write a new ending for Vietnam. It wouldn't necessarily be a happy one, but it would reinforce his idea that the war had been a noble cause. And Reagan would get help in writing that ending, thanks to the very same town that had launched his career, Hollywood.

From the first day of filming, it was clear First Blood was going to be a tough shoot. Early on, Sylvester Stallone broke a rib while trying to jump into a tree, just one of the many minor calamities that took place during the shoot in British Columbia. Cast members suffered injuries from knives and explosives, and at one point, about $50,000 worth of guns, AR-15s, M-16s, shotguns, were stolen from a truck. But in front of the camera, things looked more promising. Kotcheff had recruited a pair of tough-guy character actors to serve as Stallone's sparring partners. Richard Crenna stars as Troutman, a colonel who trained Rambo and who's trying to keep him under control. He winds up clashing with Teasel, the angry local police chief played by Brian Dennehy.

Their first meeting does not go well. By this point in the film, a local police officer has died after falling from a helicopter in pursuit of Rambo. And Troutman warns Teasel that things are only going to get worse. Rambo's a civilian now. He's my problem. I don't think you understand. I didn't come here to rescue Rambo from you. I came here to rescue you from him. In First Blood, the big screen Rambo finally gets a first name, John. The action also switches to a new location, the Pacific Northwest. The biggest change to Murrell's book, however, had to do with the ending. In the final moments of First Blood the movie, Rambo is holed up in a sporting goods store. Teasel's been shot by Rambo, but he's still alive.

Stallone and Kotcheff had agreed that their hero wouldn't be a killer. But the cops are closing in on Rambo, and Troutman is begging him to give up. It's over, Johnny. It's over! Nothing is over! Nothing! You just don't turn it off! It wasn't my war!

You asked me, I didn't ask you! There was even a line echoing Reagan's 1981 speech about Vietnam, a speech that had taken place just weeks before First Blood began shooting. And I did what I had to do to win, but somebody wouldn't let us win. It's a long, impassioned, all-over-the-place monologue, one that ends with Rambo in tears. He talks about watching his friends die, about being spit on by Americans when he came home,

about not being able to hold down a job. According to his commentary track, Stallone rewrote the ending speech himself, after talking with several Vietnam vets about their post-war experiences. Rambo was broadcasting all of their lives at once. But he's got so many ideas locked up in his brain. He's been so silenced by society and in his own anger that he can't put it together. But deciding what should happen after that scene caused some tension. Murrell's book ended with both Rambo and Teasel dead.

And the big screen version was supposed to conclude with Rambo pleading with Troutman to kill him. If I'm going to die, I want you to do it. Don't let them do it. him. After the scene was finished filming, though, Stallone approached his director, insisting that Rambo couldn't die at the end. It would turn off audiences. But Kassar, who pushed hard for the original first blood ending, says Stallone gave him a different reason for the last-minute switch. Why do you want to change the story? He said, you remember Rocky? Rocky 1?

Rocky 2? I wasn't thinking about sequels. Katchev eventually shot an alternate finale, in which Rambo survives and quietly walks outside, where the police are waiting. That's the ending that wound up in the finished film. But before audiences would get a chance to see First Blood, the movie had to go through an intense editing process.

The first cut clocked in at more than three hours. Stallone would later say it was so bad, it made him feel nauseous. I hated the film the first time I saw it. I really did. Everyone did. He even considered buying back the negative of First Blood, just to bury it. Kassar and the producers eventually set up a special screening in Los Angeles.

They'd show less than an hour of First Blood footage, with the hopes that distributors would want to pay for the overseas rights. Stallone, who'd all but given up on the movie, agreed to show up, and was shocked by how much better the footage played. He was suddenly very bullish on First Blood. So were those distributors in the audience. Kassar would later say that every clap he heard in the screening room was like dollar signs to his ears. After that viewing, Kassar planned on holding a reception at a restaurant nearby to start making deals.

But the distributors were making him offers as soon as the lights came up. I mean, the film cost $18,000. I must have sold it for $30-something million. We didn't even get to the restaurant. By the time First Blood made it to theaters in October 1982, it had been cut down to a mere 93 minutes. A lean,

speedy, perfectly calibrated action film. The reviews were all over the place. The New York Times called it crude and undeniable. Another critic attacked First Blood as an orgy of cruelty. But Kassar's dreams of dollar signs came true. First Blood made close to 50 million dollars in the U.S. Not quite E.T. money, but enough to make it Stallone's biggest non-Rocky success. On the First Blood commentary track, the actor explained the movie's popularity.

You know, it's about alienation. You don't have to be a Vietnam vet to say, you know, oh, yeah, I feel that's what relationship I have with my mother and my father. I know what it's like to be an outsider. Just months after the release of First Blood, Kassar and his partner Annie Vina announced plans for a sequel. It was time for John Rambo to return to the place that had turned him into an outsider, Vietnam.

He wouldn't be the only one making the trip. A few months after the surprise success of First Blood, the marketing team at Paramount Pictures was facing a strange challenge. How could they make their new Vietnam movie seem more, you know, fun? The film was called Uncommon Valor. They had one way out, one chance to get their buddies who were left behind. Seven men with one thing in common. Uncommon valor.

Be there. Rated R opens Friday, December 16th. The movie stars Gene Hackman as a retired Marine colonel desperately searching for his son, who went missing in Vietnam. Hackman finally locates him, along with several other MIAs,

at a prison camp in Southeast Asia and convinces a group of Vietnam vets to help him pull off a treacherous rescue effort. These are men who want to leave the war behind. So to win them over, the colonel gives them a pep talk, one that reminds them of the bond they share. You men seem to have a strong sense of loyalty because you've thought of us criminals because of Vietnam. You know why?

Because you lost. And in this country, it's like going bankrupt. You're out of business. Uncommon Valor was director Ted Kotcheff's follow-up to First Blood, and like Stallone's film, it was a brisk, violent, righteous action tale. It was also at times really weird. But like, fun weird. In one scene, the colonel tries to recruit an out-of-control convict named Sailor, played by former boxer Tex Cobb.

Man, I'm so far beyond that shit now. I energy from the air. I talk to polar bears. I converse with Paramecia. Man, I fuck nuclear waste. I fuck nuclear waste. How is that not up there with napalm in the morning? Anyway, a few months before the release of Uncommon Valor in 1983, Paramount executives began worrying that the film's marketing campaign, which highlighted the struggles of prisoners of war, was too somber. Uncommon Valor did have serious elements. One veteran suffers from PTSD. Others died during the mission. And the film ends with

a colonel learning he's too late to save his son. But those kind of moments wouldn't play with 80s audiences. They wanted a more feel-good version of Vietnam. So the studio ditched its plans. A new tagline was created for the movie's poster. Come on, buddy. We're going home. And Paramount poured $200,000 into a new ad campaign, one that played up the explosions and gunfire. It sold on Common Valor as a story about friends

uniting for a noble cause. And now, 6,000 miles from home, behind enemy lines, seven men go for it. Let's go, let's go! They had one way out, one chance to get their buddies who were left behind. Paramount's plan worked. Uncommon Valor came out right before Christmas in 1983.

It made so much money, the New York Times published a story about its out-of-nowhere box office breakthrough. The paper asked one Uncommon Valor fan why they liked the movie so much. The response? Because we get to win the Vietnam War. For those who shared Ronald Reagan's conviction that America was robbed of a victory in Vietnam, Uncommon Valor offered a do-over. But the movie also benefited from timing. By 1983, there was a growing belief that a significant number of U.S. troops were still behind enemy lines. Earlier that year, Reagan had even pledged that his government would investigate the nearly 2,500 men who were believed to be either prisoners

of war or missing in action. I should point out that even back then there was a lot of debate about that figure and in the years ahead the missing in action theory would be contested by scholars and academics. But in the early 80s the notion that there were forgotten survivors of Vietnam was irresistible to millions of Americans and to Hollywood. James Braddock has returned to uncover the truth and free the soldiers. By 1984, interest in Vietnam POWs was so strong, Chuck Norris was able to launch an entire

franchise around it. We're going home. Missing in action. Damn right. Norris was soft-spoken and hard-kicking, a martial arts expert who'd become a bankable action star in the 80s. Norris modeled his career on his idol, John Wayne, whom he referred to as, quote, his substitute father. Like Wayne, Norris often played stoic, no-nonsense fellows who were good in the fight. In Missing in Action, Norris plays Braddock, a former prisoner of war plagued by nightmares of Vietnam. So he decides to return to the country to free a group of American captives.

While back in Vietnam, he squares off with old enemies, like a colonel played by the great James Hong. Is it not true that during the war there was a price on your head of 5,000 American dollars? Braddock gives him a cold look. It was more like 20,000. For your war crimes, of course. For killing assholes like you. Norris had a personal connection to Vietnam. His brother Weiland Norris was a private in the Army

who was killed in the war in June 1970. Weiland had volunteered to lead a patrol into the jungle and soon realized his team was walking into an ambush. Chuck Norris described the circumstances of his brother's death in an interview with Dick Cavett in 1993. He saw them getting ready to fire on his patrol, and he yelled back to warn them to duck. And when he did, well, then they focused their artillery on him.

In that same interview, Norris described how his own feelings about the war had evolved over the years. When the U.S. first got involved in Southeast Asia, he was all for it. I'm one of those ultra-patriotic type guys, he told Cavett. But Norris eventually came to believe that America's efforts in Vietnam had been doomed. And I think it was a mistake we made. I think it was a war that could not be won. And we just have to avoid those in the future, wars that don't serve a strong enough purpose. It would be a stretch to say that Norris's anti-war feelings can be found in Missing in Action. I mean, its most famous scene features Norris rising from the water in slow motion

as he guns down countless Vietnamese soldiers. But like Stallone in First Blood, there's a lot of sadness in Norris' performance. Braddock spends a good chunk of the movie wandering around Saigon, looking genuinely pained by what he did in Vietnam, and by what he'll have to do again. Missing in Action was a decent box office hit, one that found Norris a devoted following in video stores, and led to a pair of Missing in Action sequels.

He was still making Braddock films when he attended a Veterans Day ceremony at the Washington Memorial in November 1986. Weiland Norris is one of the tens of thousands of names written on the wall. And on a cold, drizzly day, Chuck Norris sat one of the tens of thousands of names written on the wall. And on a cold, drizzly day, Chuck Norris sat quietly near the podium, watching speeches from Jan Scruggs and John Kerry.

During the ceremony, veterans' family members approached the actor and handed him bracelets with the names of their missing loved ones. Norris didn't address the crowd that day, but he did spend time at the wall, where he turned away from the cameras and began to weep. As he explained later, his feelings had been building up all day, not just about his brother, but about the men who'd come back from Vietnam and had felt unloved by their country.

As Norris told a reporter, we're trying to make up for it. Years before she wound up in one of the most popular Vietnam films of all time, Julia Nixon was a young teenager living in Singapore. Her stepfather was from the U.S., and Nixon slowly became aware of the war that had divided America. You know, I would say that I am a child of the 70s, so Vietnam was my generation. Even at a young age, Nixon had heard about something called the Domino Theory.

The theory went that if North Vietnam overpowered South Vietnam, communism would spread throughout Southeast Asia, and possibly beyond. Only a few decades earlier, during World War II, Singapore had been occupied by Japan, and the memories of that era still lingered. In Singapore, we were so extraordinarily supportive of American involvement in the war. And occasionally we would have a young man who was a vet that would come to the Singapore American Club, and we always welcomed any vet that was there. They had free privileges. Years after the war ended, Nixon moved to Hawaii for college.

It was the first time she learned about the opposition to the war. And the first time she realized the aftershocks of Vietnam were still being felt. Somewhere along the way, I became aware of the fact that Vietnam was this very troubled war. And there had been huge amounts of demonstrations about it. I was really quite shocked. While in Hawaii, Nixon found lucrative work as a high-end fashion model and began studying acting. She even landed a couple of small roles on Magnum P.I. But the more she learned about Hollywood, the more she realized how few opportunities there were for Asian performers.

I was thinking about what kind of roles am I going to play in American films? And I was really having a hard time coming up with ideas because there were very, very few Asians on any screen. In the most, there were Asians, obviously, that were in Hawaii Five-0, in Magnum P.I., but the rest of it was pretty much a void. Nixon wanted to be considered for a wide range of roles, so she dreamt up her own characters she'd like to play one day. One of them was a nameless peasant girl. Nixon even hired a photographer

to take black-and-white pictures of her in costume. Those photos would help Nixon win a role in her first major film, Rambo, First Blood Part II. Rambo, what most people call hell, he calls home. The new Rambo film hadn't come together quickly. After the success of First Blood in 1982, James Cameron was hired to write a draft of the sequel, a script Stallone eventually decided to revise himself. The story begins with its hero, somehow looking more pumped up than before,

paying for his crimes in a U.S. prison camp. That's where his old buddy Colonel Troutman finds him. He makes Rambo an offer. If he can slip into his old prison camp in Vietnam and locate American POWs, Rambo might be eligible for a pardon. Rambo's got just one question. Do we get to win this time? This time it's up to you. Once he gets to Vietnam, Rambo meets Ko, an intelligence agent played by Nixon.

She helps him move through the jungles of Vietnam, even though most of the sequel was shot in Mexico. Directed by George P. Cosmatos, who'd later make Cobra with Stallone, Rambo cost more than $25 million. It was more expensive than First Blood, and even tougher to make. Sets were leveled by hurricanes. Temperatures hit as high as 120 degrees. Stallone laid out some of the on-set hazards during this promotional interview. In the middle of a scene,

you see a scorpion going up your leg, and you say, wait a minute, do you have an actor's guild card? On weekends, the cast and crew would unwind at clubs in Acapulco. Occasionally, Stallone would even make a cameo. This was Acapulco, and Acapulco was known for its discos. And they aren't little discos like we have in the U.S. They were massive

dance floors with huge amounts of people. We'd all go to the disco and Sly would show up in the Slymobile. Wait, what's a Slymobile? It was just a bigger vehicle, you know, like an armored truck that came to the disco. And then they bring these things called poppers, which are basically tequila shots. So there was a fair amount of partying that went on on the weekends. In Rambo, Stallone's character has more muscles, more lines, and more enemies. It's not just a stubborn lawman after Rambo. It's the whole world. After meeting Coe, he realizes the Vietnamese are being supported by the Soviets.

Even worse, he discovers that the American bureaucrat who'd set up his mission, named Murdoch and played by Charles Napier, had no intention of ever bringing the POWs back. It was all political theater. So when Rambo is finally caught by the Russians, he lets Murdoch know what's up. Rambo, this is Murdoch. We're glad you're alive. Where are you? Give us your position and we'll come to pick you up. So to appreciate why Rambo's reply made audiences go wild, it probably helps to know that he's surrounded by a bunch of Russians who've been brutally torturing him.

Murdoch. I'm coming to get you. Murdoch survives, though Rambo does rough him up a bit. He also brings home several missing Vietnam vets. It's not necessarily a happy ending for John Rambo, but it is a noble one. When Rambo, First Blood Part II opened in May 1985, it went straight to number one at the box office and stayed there for more than a month. But Rambo wasn't just a commercial force, he was a cultural one too. Johnny Carson, Mad Magazine, Weird Al, they all spoofed Rambo's oiled-up physique and fed-up worldview. There were also Rambo toys, aimed at kids who were too young to see the movie and who likely weren't even alive during Vietnam.

The commercials for the Rambo action figure even came with an upbeat theme song. He needs Rambo! Rambo, the force of freedom! fictitious Vietnam vet to sell toys to kids strikes you as crass, well, you're not alone. Anti-war protesters soon showed up at the offices of Coleco, the company that sold the Rambo figures, which were bestsellers, by the way. And Stallone's movie also drew picketers, many of them Vietnam vets. In the summer of 1985, a group called the Veteran Speakers Alliance protested the movie in San Francisco, attacking First Blood Part II as pro-war propaganda. As one member said at the time,

when we got to Vietnam, we found it wasn't like the Vietnam movies. We were fooled into sacrificing our lives. Rambo does the same thing. But those frustrations were drowned out by the movie's success. By the end of that summer, Rambo, First Blood Part II, had made more than $100 million in the U.S., a rare achievement at the time. The film was so popular that along with missing in action, it minted a whole new genre, the vetsploitation movie.

In the 80s, video store shelves would get weighed down by action flicks in which buff veterans blast their way to survival. Movies with titles like Strike Commando and Deadly Prey. A film so violent it cannot be rated. Viewer caution advised. Killer and teacher face off in a final battle. Only one can survive in Deadly Prey. But no one co-opted the success of First Blood Part II like Ronald Reagan.

Shortly after the film's release, in late June 1985, nearly 40 American hostages were freed from Beirut, the end of an ordeal that had gripped the country. Reagan, who'd just held a private screening of the movie The White House, addressed the nation afterward. That's when a microphone caught him making an offhand joke. Boy, after seeing Rambo last night, I know what to do the next time this happens. Two months later, Reagan was in the middle of a fight over

tax reform. Speaking to a crowd of more than 15,000 in Missouri, he quoted Rambo directly. I'm reminded of a recent very popular movie. And in the spirit of Rambo, let me tell you, we're going to win this time. Speaking to The Hollywood Reporter in 2022, Stallone said he never intended for Rambo to be a political character. Rambo is totally neutral, he said. He doesn't even live in this country. He feels scorned by it.

But in the imaginations of many Americans, Rambo and Reagan were a perfect match. They saw both men as tough-talking patriots who wouldn't back down. A popular 80s poster featured Reagan's grinning face plastered on Rambo's muscled body, his machine gun firing. Its title? Ronbo. At one point, a gleeful-looking Reagan was photographed holding a sign that read, Rambo is a Republican. And one of those Mad Magazine covers depicted the two men making plans while looking at a map of Central America, with Rambo toting a bazooka.

The response surprised many of those who made the movie, including Mario Kassar. I wasn't into politics. Republican, Democrat, I wouldn't know the difference. Now I know the difference and I'm tired of all of it. But it's easy to understand why Reagan saw Rambo as an ally. Here was a president who believed Vietnam could have been won, if only the government had gotten out of the way. And here was a Vietnam super soldier given another shot at victory, and who took down the bureaucrats who wouldn't let him succeed.

Both men wanted a Vietnam that didn't end in regret. And by the mid-80s, a time when millions of Americans were visiting the wall, sorting out their own feelings about the war, they weren't alone. But it makes me wonder, did Reagan really pay that close attention to First Blood Part II? Because he doesn't really win this time. Sure, he frees several Vietnam POWs. But Rambo also learns that his government has deceived him and his fellow soldiers. And he watches Ko, the first person Rambo's felt connected to in years, die in a violent firefight. At one point in the movie, the two have a quiet conversation in between battles.

Ko asks Rambo why he was chosen for the mission. I'm expendable. Expendable. What means expendable? It's like if someone invites you to a party and you don't show up,

it doesn't really matter. Later, right before she dies, Ko tells Rambo he's wrong. Rambo, you're not expendable. It's a quick line, but one that people have been quoting to Nixon for nearly 40 years. The irony is, Coe gives the line to him, you're not expendable, and she's the one that ends up dying. Because in this war, part of the problem was the people that didn't deserve to die do end up dying in Vietnam.

Because that is what happens in war. It's not just unique to Vietnam, but everybody suffers. Next, on Do We Get to Win This Time? There was some caste tension when you're with that many people. Everybody don't have to like each other. As a matter of fact, I don't give a shit whether you like me or not. But what I do demand is respect. What does it feel like to be hit by a shrapnel?

What does it feel like to be hit by a bullet?nel? What does it feel like to be hit by a bullet? What I found was that they were assimilating this. They were soaking it up like sponges. It was a tsunami of repressed feelings. Like how,

we don't have to be this phony patriotic stories that we're doing. We don't have to tell lies. Why don't we tell the truth? This is Do We Get to Win This Time? How Hollywood Made the Vietnam War. Written and reported by me, Brian Raftery. The executive producers are Bill Simmons, Juliet Lippman, and Sean Fennessy. Our story editor is Amanda Dobbins.

The show was produced by Devin Manzi, Mike Wargon, and Vikram Patel. Fact-checking by Dan Comer. Copy editing by Craig Gaines. Talent booking by Kat Spillane. Sound design by Bobby Wagner. Mixing and mastering by Scott Somerville. The music in this series comes from Epidemic Sound and Blue Dot Sessions. Art direction and illustration by David Shoemaker.

Thanks for listening. This episode originally included a factual error about Daniel Ellsberg's military service. We described him as a Vietnam vet, when in fact, he was a military analyst who was in Vietnam, but not as an enlisted soldier. We've updated this episode to reflect that correction.