Heaven & Earth

Oliver Stone might very well have the most impressive string of films produced over the course of 10 years in the history of cinema. Starting in 1986 with Salvador and Platoon (released amazingly enough in the same year) all the way up to Natural Born Killers in 1994, the man could do no wrong. It was as if God had granted him a certain amount of time get his message across and the director was damn well going to make the most of it. Transitioning from standard Hollywood storytelling to an MTV shorthand that kept him one step ahead of his contemporaries, Stone only had one real dud in the whole decade: the third film of his Vietnam trilogy, Heaven & Earth (1993).

Based on the memoirs of Le Ly Haslip, her story begins in an idyllic Vietnamese village that is quickly ravaged by the horrors of war. Caught between the seemingly patriotic ideals of the Viet Cong and the influx of American soldiers, her family is torn apart and forced to survive however they can. Le Ly (Hiep Thi Le) moves to Saigon with her mother and works as a nanny, but succumbs to the sexual advances of her employer. Pregnant and cast aside, she somehow makes ends meet until fate finds her in the arms of an American sergeant (Tommy Lee Jones). The romance leads to marriage, more children and a ticket to the U.S where a happy ending seems to be in sight. But the American Dream comes with a horrible cost.

Stone, never the subtlest of directors, attacks Le Ly’s story with a heavy-handed ferocity that isn’t a good match for the material. Cinematographer Robert Richardson does his best to play up the beauty hidden amongst the brutality but his images are overwhelmed by the litany of tragedies that pile up over 2 ½ hours. War is hell, no matter which side you’re on, seems to be the message. Or maybe it’s all about the Buddhist idea of karma; that we all pay a “soul debt” in the end.

No matter what the ultimate goal of the story, Stone is probably the wrong person to tell it. Switching perspectives doesn’t reveal any greater truths or answer critics who found his work misogynistic. If anything Heaven & Earth confirms the director is tone deaf when it comes to women’s roles. Le Ly’s endless spiritual voice-overs are often at odds with the general tone of the film, which is apocalyptically depressing. No one seems comfortable in his or her own skin except Haing S. Ngor (The Killing Fields) who exudes a warmth and humanity the rest of the film sorely lacks but seems to imply it’s delivering.

Twilight Time’s 3000-copy limited edition Blu-ray gives the film a tremendous hi-def makeover, punctuated by Richardson’s heavenly photography and wonderfully overblown orchestral score by Kitaro. But most invaluable is Stone’s audio commentary over the main feature and a collection of deleted scenes. Although he rarely comments on the film itself, the director opens up a clear path to his magnificently cluttered psyche, pontificating on all things political, spiritual and otherwise. Make sure to stick around for the credits where the rants about overpaid actors. His comments are refreshingly honest, even if the film itself is not.