Southern Comfort

A chip off the old block of filmmakers like John Ford, Sam Peckinpah and John Milius, the work of director Walter Hill is so full of testosterone watching one of his movies is akin to having hormone replacement therapy. His characters are pumped up men of action who survive in a world that eats its own young. They understand what it takes to survive and rarely lend a hand to those who don’t share their worldview, which – far from being black and white – is one endless shade of grey.

That’s pretty deep for a guy who made Eddie Murphy a comedic superstar in 48 Hrs (although truth be told Eddie really stole the movie from top billed Nick Nolte). But Hill’s shout-outs to revisionist Westerns and the savagery versus civilization theme pop up in just about every flick he makes, none more so than Southern Comfort (1981), which also works well as a Vietnam allegory despite his comments to the contrary.

A National Guard squad on backcountry exercises in bayou country runs afoul of some local Cajuns who retaliate with extreme measures. Packing nothing but blanks, our soldiers soon realize they’re being hunted by the indigenous population and, despite superior training, are hopelessly outmaneuvered. Keith Carradine (The Duellists), Powers Boothe (The Emerald Forest) and Fred Ward (Tremors) headline the cast of characters whose battles with each other just might cost them the war.

The parallels to the conflict in Vietnam are constant and overt. Hill and co-writer David Giler’s assertions that there was no specific intention to comment on the war are odd, particularly since the cast all thought it was obvious. And, as an allegory, it makes the script’s flaws a bit easier to swallow.

The first ¾ of Southern Comfort, despite an engaging set-up and great location photography in the swamps by DP Andrew Lazlo (who also collaborated with Hill on The Warriors), is simply manufactured tension. Only a few hours after the Cajuns attack, the Guardsmen are cracking up, pissing their pants or losing their minds. While this might a legitimate reaction for Vietnam soldiers in their first firefight, it feels forced here, moving the story along at an unnaturally heightened pace. From a filmmaking perspective, the creative seems are showing.

But as the Guardsmen run the gauntlet and their numbers dwindle, the film’s storytelling style becomes leaner and meaner, forgoing the philosophical conversations and ditching the dialogue altogether for a genuinely thrilling finale set in a backwater Cajun town. Hunter and prey finally come together while Hill shoots the scene in almost documentary fashion. It’s a tense, visually arresting showdown that never once hits a false note. Had the rest of Southern Comfort set the bar this high, Walter Hill might have had a huge hit on his hands.

But, as the 30-minute documentary on Shout Factory’s new Blu-ray / DVD combo point out, the film never connected with audiences. It did however become a pay cable stable during the lean years and perhaps played better on the small screen. Never exactly a vivid picture to begin with, Shout gives it new life with a hi-def transfer that’s a marked improvement, plus a theatrical trailer, still gallery, reversible cover art and the aforementioned documentary which tracks down interviews with all the major players (Hill and Giler contribute via Skype). This one’s been a long time coming. Nice to see it fall into the right hands.