Or a platoon
of infantrymen could telepathically call in a helicopter to whisk away their wounded in the
midst of a deafening
firefight, where intelligible speech would be impossible above the din
of explosions.
With a streak
of blood worn proudly on his temple as representative
of Stephen Crane's manifest valour (the only injury our invulnerable flyboy hero sustains even in the
midst of a withering
firefight between three American combat helicopters and an armoured division
of murderous Serbs (or Muslims, or Croats — they're not sure so we're not either), save for a flesh wound to the shoulder), the great irony
of stranded Navy Navigator Burnett's (Owen Wilson) red badge
of courage is that it's acquired when he ejects from his own downed aircraft.
A liberal adaptation set in the early 1960s
of the Richard Ford novel about a golfer turned
firefighter, it becomes a ruthless dissection
of a marriage in the
midst of a punishing implosion.