Opening to general audiences September 24, Oliver Stone’s Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps, the sequel to his successful 1987 indictment of unchecked greed, recently screened at the Cannes Film Festival, with a predominantly positive critical reception. The film follows Gordon Gekko who, after having spent twenty-three years in prison for insider trading, returns to society to find that his daughter won’t speak to him and the American economy is on the brink of collapse. Occupying a role similar to the one played by Charlie Sheen in the first film (who will make a brief appearance in this picture), Shia LaBeouf plays the fiancé of Gekko’s daughter, a young stockbroker who suspects that the death of his mentor may be the result of foul play. Despite the insistence of critics who agree that this film marks a solid return to form for Stone, given the world’s current financial circumstances, it is also an obvious attempt to comment (and, probably, cash in) on the times. Although great filmmakers have, for decades, often turned their lenses towards contemporary issues in an attempt to produce a work of art that both entertains and informs, in this instance, one can’t help but wonder if perhaps Oliver Stone is trying too hard to stay relevant.
For a good ten years, Stone had the kind of career that most directors would sell their soul for. As a former student of no less than Martin Scorsese himself, he approached cinema with the skill of a virtuoso and the spirit of a revolutionary, prolifically crafting a series of scathing attacks on The Powers That Be. Cutting his teeth on the cheap thrillers Seizure and The Hand, all while making a more reputable name for himself scripting films such as Midnight Express and Scarface, Stone was finally able to announce his own unique presence in 1986, when two of his films, Salvador and Platoon, were released to theaters.
Starring James Woods and Jim Belushi, Salvador is the inspired-by-real-events tale of a freelance photographer who, finding himself deeply in debt, absconds with a friend to El Salvador, hoping to vacation in paradise while snapping some profitable shots of the civil war. Beginning a trend which would continue throughout his entire career, Stone introduces the audience to a comfortable and contented protagonist who, after being exposed to the harsh realities of a particular geopolitical issue, discovers his conscience and works to shed light on an injustice that must be addressed. Through the eyes of Woods’ cynic-turned-savior, audiences are coerced to sympathize with the impoverished revolutionaries; the American-supported military forces are portrayed as the clear antagonists.
Although Salvador is undoubtedly the work of an artist still learning his craft, it revealed to the world Stone’s strength for storytelling, as well as, regrettably, some of his weaknesses; even at his best, the director has never been able to control his Howard Zinn-esque knee-jerk criticism of all official American policies, nor has he been able to see things in anything other than black and white, good vs. evil terms, a trait which has always contradicted his intelligence and rigorous research standards.
If Salvador served as the prologue to what would become an accomplished and controversial career, Platoon is the first chapter. Based on Stone’s own experiences as a soldier in the Vietnam War, the film stars Charlie Sheen as a privileged and naïve young man who, much like the director, leaves school and enlists in the army, perhaps as a subconscious apology to the lower-class draftees who have not benefited from wealthy families.
Earning Stone his first Academy Award for Best Director, Platoon, although suffering from a script severely lacking in subtlety, jettisons all concepts of glory, depicting combat life as nothing short of perpetual misery. Evoking the profound disillusionment of the entire country, Stone gives his viewers no comfort via an important mission or honorable cause. For the soldiers in this film, the only goal is survival, and often, the only way to achieve that goal is to kill or be killed. The tagline of Platoon is “The first casualty of war is innocence,” and Stone follows through on this idea thematically, depicting the war not only as a danger to one’s life, but to the good in one’s soul, a dichotomy expressed through the symbolic characters of Sergeant Elias (Willem Dafoe) and Staff Sergeant Barnes (Tom Berenger). Whereas Elias is the spiritual savior of the film, famously taking on the pose of Jesus on the Cross in a crucial scene, Barnes has been consumed by hatred and violence, going so far as to threaten the life of an innocent young girl whose village, he suspects, knows the location of the Viet Cong.
Although other filmmakers had tackled the subject of Vietnam before, the visceral energy of Platoon, the pervasive sense of futility, combined with the director’s experience of the war, provoked a strong reaction in audiences who perhaps regarded the movie as the first easily accessible narrative of what actually happened over there, without any artistic pretense. Along with the Best Director honors, the film also won Academy Awards for Best Picture, Best Sound, and Best Film Editing. Oliver Stone had arrived, and a few trophies from his peers was certainly not going to pacify his rage. If anything, the success seemed to encourage him.
Having looked evil straight in the eye overseas, Stone set out next to examine the more socially acceptable evils back home, directing Wall Street. Although, once again, the film’s protagonist is played by Charlie Sheen, the true star of the movie is Michael Douglas, who earned a Best Actor Academy Award for his portrayal of Gordon Gekko, whose ruthless economic tactics derive from his belief that the stock market is a game, and winning is the only option.
Stone will always champion the lower class, and that is especially the case in this film, as he portrays the blue-collar culture, represented by Martin Sheen and his company, Blue Star Airlines, as honest people committed to the values of family and hard work, in contrast with Gekko, who insists that “Greed, for lack of a better word, is good.”
Ironically, as a movie made specifically to attack the get-rich quick solipsism of the 1980s, its actual effect on our culture has been the opposite of its intended effect; in the wake of the film, establishing a trend that continues to this day, many young people looking to earn a fortune using whatever means necessary became stockbrokers, citing Wall Street, and, in particular, Gordon Gekko, as their primary influence.
As his career progressed, Stone continued to tackle key subjects in American society, earning another Best Director Oscar for Born on the Fourth of July, a biopic of Ron Kovic who, after being paralyzed in Vietnam, reassessed his personal values and became a significant anti-war advocate. The film would be the second installment in what Stone refers to as his “Vietnam trilogy,” a series of films linked not sequentially, but by their shared subject matter, the final film being the underseen Heaven and Earth.
With the release of JFK in 1991, the director introduced the world to a film that represents the peak of his talents. Stylistically, the movie is one of a kind, featuring multiple film formats, seamless combination of archival footage and painstakingly detailed reenactments, and editing tricks that turn a simple scene involving the review of documents into something as exciting as any battle sequence. At his best, Stone has never been content to simply frame a shot and let the cameras roll, opting instead, like a great musician, to syncopate the screen with visual diversions and frantic cutting. At times, this quality may come off as excessive, as in 1988’s Talk Radio, the cinematic adaptation of Eric Bogosian’s play of the same name. However, it fits the story of JFK divinely, as the kinetic energy matches the slowly accumulating paranoia of its characters.
As one of the most controversial films to garner an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture, JFK, in its insistence that Lee Harvey Oswald could not have acted alone in the assassination of the President, incited the condemning wrath of those in the media and government who accused Stone of exaggeration, distortion, and at times, outright lying, while also spurring on a tidal wave of movie-goers to investigate the case on their own. In fact, the film became such a pervasive cultural phenomenon that it led directly to the creation of the U.S. Assassination Records and Review Board, a committee designed to re-investigate the crime, setting a new precedent for the ability of mainstream filmmaking to influence society.
Whether is was to dismiss the film or celebrate it, everyone had something to say about JFK, and in turn, everyone had something to say about Oliver Stone, the fanatically liberal man behind its creation. Given his career, the public couldn’t help but wonder: was he a dedicated historian crusading for truth, or was he simply a poor researcher who knew how to tell a good story? Regardless, his name stayed in the news, when his film Natural Born Killers, a satire bordering on hallucinogenic political cartoon, was accused of influencing several copycat murders. Love him or hate him, the words “a film by Oliver Stone” meant something in the 80s and 90s. However, that status wouldn’t last.
After releasing Nixon, a surprisingly sympathetic attempt to depict the life of America’s most notorious President as a mix of Citizen Kane and Shakespearean tragedy, Stone, for the first time since his pre-Salvador years, gave the raging against the machine a rest, directing U Turn, a forgettable thriller that was criticized even by Stone’s most faithful supporters. Any Given Sunday fared slightly better, but 2004’s Alexander was deemed a massive failure, and although the Director’s Cut of the film has since generated a following, it will always be remembered for its historical inaccuracies and lack of drama.
By this time, it seemed that Oliver Stone was no longer a filmmaker whose work merited discussion. Although, when he announced that he planned to direct World Trade Center, there was some speculation that he was prepping another conspiracy picture that would generate massive media attention, the film that was released is well-intentioned but lacking in authenticity, a quality made even more apparent when compared to Paul Greengrass’ superior United 93. While Greengrass’ picture, with its no-name actors and heavily improvised script, reflects the director’s experience as a documentary filmmaker, World Trade Center feels more like something Ron Howard would make, and suffers from an attempt to memorialize the heroes of that day while populated by a cast of well-known actors who, talented as they may be, come off as unconvincing.
In fact, the whole film seems like a half-hearted work, a story that needs to be told, just not by Stone. The first signs of a director grasping for significance were apparent.
Next came W., which, while at first glance seems fair and balanced, depicts George Bush as a fragile infant, always on the verge of tears, just looking for someone to hold his hand while he crosses the street. The man may have been incompetent, but he knows how to tie his shoelaces.
Perhaps, as with World Trade Center, Stone assumed that viewers would look forward to seeing a film dramatize the important events of their lifetime, but such was not the case. Reviews were fairly positive, but the film under-performed at the box office. The advertisements still tried to sell the picture through its director, but by that time, Oliver Stone’s name had faded so far that most young filmgoers probably didn’t even know that it was supposed to have any weight attached to it.
Now, it’s Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps. To be fair, Stone had been trying to return to his roots, spending months developing Pinkville, a cinematic interpretation of the My Lai massacre, prior to making W. However, he’s been unable to get that project off the ground. Still, there’s absolutely no denying that this next picture only exists because it is timely, an argument that could be made about Stone’s last two releases. For a long time, his career was so productive and worthy of recognition because he had a lot to say, and was fueled by an unstoppable energy to make sure his voice was heard. Every single protagonist from his best films was a character who needed to tell the world something, and let’s face it, what’s the point of telling the world that there was corruption on Wall Street and it led to the mess that we’re in right now? We hear that every time we turn on the new, and there’s really no cautionary tale there anymore, no preventative measure being taken. You can’t fix what’s already broken. Platoon woke us up, telling the world you can’t make sense of a senseless war, and all you can do is hold on to your better nature and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Born on the Fourth of July told us how to do so. JFK, true or not, shed light on a part of history that tends to get swept under the rug, convincing even the government that it was worth looking back.
What’s a sequel to Wall Street going to tell us? Greed is still bad? Yeah, no kidding.
Of course, that’s not to say we won’t see it. Stone is still a skilled storyteller, and if the critics are to be believed, he’s put his heart into this one. The return of Gordon Gekko may be pointless now, but it’ll probably make for a fun movie.
