wholl stop the rain

Released at the tail end of the '70s, Who'll Stop the Rain is wrapped up in the iconography of the era: Vietnam, drugs, and the slow, sad demise of the peace & love generation. But the plot itself pushes a much more straightforward action movie agenda. Working off the novel Dog Soldiers by Robert Stone, Nick Nolte gets his first real slam dunk role as Ray Hicks, an ex-marine whose return to the land of the free leaves him feeling more trapped than ever before.

With the war winding down, photographer John Converse (Michael Moriarty) sees an opportunity in the drug trade, graduating from grass to smack and asking his old buddy Ray to smuggle it back to the U.S. where his wife, Marge (Tuesday Weld) will be waiting with payment. Unfortunately, Marge is saddled with a habit of her own and is completely taken by surprise at her husband's new business plan. So when a dirty cop plans to take the shipment for himself, Ray and Marge hit the road to try and unload the drugs themselves, putting a target on everyone's back.

Directed by Karel Reisz, Who'll Stop the Rain is saddled with a terrible title (tied in to a constant stream of CCR tunes) and an odd mix of commercial action tropes and anti-establishment detours. Nolte's character vacillates between a jaded killing machine and softhearted ex-hippie nostalgic for the country he left behind. It's to his credit that he pulls off both aspects brilliantly, so much so that he nearly eclipses the performance of co-star Tuesday Weld, who never seems much engaged in the proceedings unless she's getting high.

The film puts plenty of potholes in their road trip with pursuit by a pair of hired thugs (well played by Richard Masur and Ray Sharkey) always in the rearview mirror. Moriarty returns for a third-act showdown set in an abandoned hippie enclave deep in a desert canyon. With gunfire and explosions set against a looming painted peace sign, the metaphor is quite clear. But Who'll Stop the Rain works best as a polished thriller rather than a commentary on Vietnam (it does share a nihilistic opening narration similar to Apocalypse Now released the following year). There is a rugged beauty in Reisz and Richard H. Kline's photography that might have been better served if the movie didn't stop for gas quite so often.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition blu-ray is a real beauty, ranking right up there with some of their best-looking discs. Extras include an isolated score track, interview with supervising editor John Bloom, original theatrical trailer and liner notes.