You Ain't Seen Me, Right? – Johnny Got His Gun (1971)

Sick of never winning your local pub’s movie quiz night? Then get swotting with You Ain't Seen Me, Right?, the weekly feature that explores the films most people have never heard of and you’ll never get asked about in a million years. But y’never know – you just might.

You Ain't Seen Me, Right? is brought to you by Daniel Palmer, of Part-Time Infidel web fame. His home entertainment set-up resembles the front window of Currys, only with fewer tramps trying to watch Deal or No Deal with the sound down.

Johnny Got His Gun(1971)
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Unfortunately, Dalton Trumbo’s career will always be overshadowed by the witch hunt that ended it. As the most prominent name to be blacklisted for his refusal to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee, Trumbo became a cause celebre on both sides: an example of the ‘enemy within’ to the McCarthyites, and a martyr to the Committee for the First Amendment that formed in opposition to HUAC’s attack on the film industry. Trumbo continued to be one of the most sought-after writers, winning two Oscars under assumed names for Roman Holiday (1953) and The Brave One (1956) before Kirk Douglas broke the embargo and credited him on Spartacus (1960).

In this adaptation of Trumbo’s 1939 novel, Joe Bonham (Timothy Bottoms) is a young American soldier who was horribly injured by an artillery shell on the last day of World War I. Having lost his limbs, eyes, ears, mouth and nose, Joe’s consciousness is the only thing unaffected by the blast. Trapped inside his mind, Joe drifts between fantasy and reality, reliving events from his past and traversing a surreal landscape created by his fevered imagination. He is cared for by a compassionate young nurse (Diane Varsi) who treats him as a person instead of a medical curiosity.



Trumbo’s only foray into directing feels like the summation of everything he believed; a labour of love that would act as his legacy and a lasting gesture of defiance to his persecutors. Every shot feels as though it was wrenched from Trumbo’s head, rendered as he envisaged it when writing the novel. Jules Brenner’s cinematography is integral to the mood of the piece; the hazy, sepia-tinted look of Joe’s mental excursions contrasted with the clinical monochrome of his waking nightmare. The film’s sound design is also superlative; the noises rattling around in Joe’s subconscious merging and overlapping, his inner monologue colliding with dialogue.

Just months before his performance in The Last Picture Show catapulted him to overnight stardom, Bottoms delivered an equally beguiling performance here as the unassuming small-town boy drawn into the chaos and carnage by nationalistic fervour and a sense of duty. It is a debut to rank amongst the best of the ‘70s, a time when so much exciting young talent emerged. Venerable character actor Jason Robards’ world-weary physiognomy and rich locution lends depth to Joe’s father, while Donald Sutherland playfully portrays the messianic guide of Joe’s inner world, helping him to navigate the turmoil of his living death.

Trumbo understood that the best way to promulgate his pacifist message was to demonstrate the consequences of the contrary position: Joe is the embodiment of the madness, horror and absurdity that is the reality of all conflicts, regardless of their noble intent. Joe’s picturesque reminiscences are tinged with the grim inevitability that nothing we see will come to fruition. Johnny Got His Gun presents its radical, devastating dissection of the war machine without sentiment, averring that the soldiers are merely conduits for the strategic aims of the nation state they represent; playing a game in which they have a minimal stake.
Blimey. I’m guessing it’s not one for the Jackass crowd then. You can expect more brilliant filmising from Daniel next week.