JFK

Every generation has a moment where life itself comes to a complete standstill, where history as we know it changes before our very eyes. For me and my generation, it was September 11, 2001. For director Oliver Stone, it was November 22, 1963, the day where John F. Kennedy was gunned down in Dallas, Texas. In 1991, Oliver Stone released JFK, which explores the surrounding circumstances in a way that heretofore had never been conceived, and in the process, rejuvenated interest in the life and death of John F. Kennedy—the latter of which has since become one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of American history.

I really have to commend Oliver Stone as a director, for despite whatever reservations people have about him (and ironically, JFK helped instill those very reservations!), he really knows how to transport you, the viewer, to another place and time—and 9 times out of 10 accurately and authentically portrays that time period to a T. Take World Trade Center. He recreated the sense of confusion and disbelief of 9/11 so well—a sense that hindsight nearly made me forget, even with me being in DC. And here in JFK, Stone thrusts you head-on into 1963, fully recreating here the confusion and disbelief inherent to that time . . . as only someone who has lived through those times can.

Opening with home-video footage framed through a small TV-esque square, and with an introductory voiceover by Martin Sheen (of all people), JFK wastes no time in taking you right to the very core of the picture: John F. Kennedy's arrival in Dallas, shown through a collage of homemade footage, his motorcade ride through the heart of the city, right to his star-crossed journey down through Dealey Plaza. For just a few final moments, we see a smiling Kennedy waving directly at the audience . . . followed by the sound of a rifle being loaded. The screen goes black moments before that fatal shot echoes into our souls, and then the screen tunes into Walter Cronkite's news report of the shooting.

Thus begins the journey of America's greatest unsolved mystery, and leading us on this journey is Jim Garrison, as played by Kevin Costner. In 1963, Garrison is the district attorney for the city of New Orleans who, like the rest of America, felt his world turned upside-down by the death of John F. Kennedy. He only tangentially gets involved in the case when he learns that one of Lee Harvey Oswald's known associates currently lives in New Orleans, but that investigation doesn't yield anything significant, so Garrison lets it drop from his mind. Three years later, however, the Warren Commission's official report into Kennedy's death is released, and Jim Garrison spends the next several days reading the entire thing from start to finish . . . and after finding some major holes in its conclusions, he starts to create an investigation all on his own—one that puts many lives on the line, and one that borders on personal obsession.

Let me just get this out of the way now: I don't subscribe to the lone gunman theory of Lee Harvey Oswald. I do believe there was more than one shooter that day (though I couldn't tell you who) . . . but I also believe that, no matter how deep we delve into this mystery, we'll never know what truly happened in Dallas that day. And when watching a film like JFK, one has to be careful to separate dramatic vision from hardcore fact—i.e., you have to be careful not to blindly accept Oliver Stone's interpretation of events as actual fact. Having said that, though, Stone does make a compelling case about who he thinks is behind the death of John F. Kennedy. No names are named, no fingers are directly pointed. Rather, Stone's claim is largely one of a major yet unspoken conspiracy among so many people, so complex and so densely layered in the politics of the time, involving numerous and competing government interests (FBI, CIA, ONI, Cuban freedom fighters, the Pentagon, even LBJ) with the ultimate goal of either fully committing to a war in Vietnam or to an outright invasion of Cuba after the Bay of Pigs failed. Joe Pesci's David Ferrie sums up the quote-unquote conspiracy perfectly: "It's a mystery, wrapped in a riddle, inside an enigma!"

It took me a few viewings before I firmly dissociated myself from Stone's theories and was able to see the movie for what it is: a fantastic cinematic achievement that successfully got people to think. When I say "got people to think," I mean it rejuvenated interest in JFK's life and death, as I said earlier. And when I say "a fantastic cinematic achievement," I can't even begin to fathom—let alone explain—the degree to which Oliver Stone recreated 1963 Dallas and 1968 New Orleans. His recreation of Dealey Plaza is just unbelievable! Every detail is in place, every moment is so precise, so that whenever historical footage and recreated footage overlap, the two almost look identical and seamless! That, ladies and germs, is a cinematic achievement of unfathomable magnitude. The true culmination of JFK, though, comes in an hour-long courtroom scene that's essentially a minutely-detailed recreation of November 22, 1963, from start to finish. This, too, leaves me utterly breathless with the amount of detail examined: damn near each minute of the day before, during, and after the shooting.

On the casting side, you have cameos and starring roles out the proverbial wazoo: John Candy, Ed Asner, Jack Lemmon, an almost unrecognizable Joe Pesci (who I hate to say was miscast), Sissy Spacek (whose "neglected wife" routine became rather tiresome), Laurie Metcalf, Walter Matthau, Jay O. Sanders, Kevin Bacon, Tommy Lee Jones, Michael Rooker, Donald Sutherland, Frank Whaley, Wayne Knight (interestingly enough, he plays a character named Numa!), the always-magnificent Gary Oldman as Lee Harvey Oswald, Brian Doyle-Murray as Jack Ruby, and even the real-life Jim Garrison himself as Chief Justice Earl Warren. With the noted exception of Joe Pesci, every single one of these actors just nailed their roles. I have to call out Donald Sutherland, in particular, because his 20-minute monologue/flashback/discussion with Jim Garrison on a rainy National Mall is just fantastic acting. And yes, Kevin Costner does a good turn here as Jim Garrison, who comes to believe that he's on a divine mission to reveal the truth about John F. Kennedy's death and bring those responsible to justice—at whatever cost.

Though for all its good acting and cinematic mastery, JFK does have some notable flaws. For one thing, it's just way too long. Stone released an extended version on DVD that caps out at 3 hours and 25 minutes; I think the original theatrical version was 3 hours and 11 minutes. Either way, it's not exactly light viewing. But a few scenes could have stood to remain on the cutting room floor, like Garrison's interview with John Larroquette, or the airport bathroom scene where Bill Broussard tries to set him up.

Another problem I have with the movie is how righteous Kennedy is presented. Stone seems to depict Kennedy as a flawless hero figure for the '60s, someone who was there to save us from ourselves and ultimately bring America into a new golden age—and by extension, his death is presented as the death of hope, the death of America's future. Yes, the '60s was a massively turbulent decade where so many things came to an ugly head (Vietnam, civil rights, Martin Luther King), but for all we know, much of that may have happened anyway had Kennedy not died. There's really no way to ever know, and having said that, you can't conclusively say the '60s would or wouldn't have turned out any differently. Kennedy's death was one contribution to the downfall of the '60s; it was not the one and only factor, as Stone would have you believe.

JFK won Oscars for cinematography and film editing in 1991 (deservedly so), though it was up for several others, too. If it had been up to me, I'd also have given JFK the Best Director award to Oliver Stone for his incredible recreation of Dealey Plaza and the fateful motorcade progression, as well as the Best Original Score award to John Williams for his utterly fabulous score.

Overall, JFK is one fabulously-made movie . . . but it still requires a suspension of belief and a separation of your own politics from Stone's, because Jim Garrison's passionate closing argument to the jurors in that final courtroom scene, while quite stunning and powerful, can't escape the branding of Stone's politics shining through.

JFK earns an 8.5 score with me—because regardless of whether or not you believe its claims, JFK is one hell of a moviemaking achievement. Stone does present a compelling case, but I say again, I honestly don't believe we'll ever know what truly happened in Dallas on that fateful November day . . . or even who was behind it.