The Men Who Stare at Goats
November 7, 2009
Lyn Cassady stares at a goat in the aptly named "The Men Who Stare at Goats".
(Grant Heslov, 2009)
November 7, 2009
by Joel Crary
The line between genius and insanity is an optical illusion. It may appear to be thin, but when examined closely, it’s actually pretty damn thick. War is an insane activity that requires genius to achieve victory. When the strategies of generals are boiled down to the essential, casualties and violence are variables in an equation. When considering “The Men Who Stare at Goats”, I am reminded of General Buck Turgidson’s appeal to the Commander-in-Chief in “Dr. Strangelove”: “I’m not saying we wouldn’t get our hair mussed. But I do say no more than ten to twenty million killed, tops!”
“The Men Who Stare at Goats” is based on Jon Ronson’s book about the training of American “psychic warriors” after the U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War. It is the story of the establishment of the First Earth Battalion by Jim Channon, who wrote the battalion’s manifesto, which is more of an instruction manual comprised of lengthy descriptions of new age military philosophy accompanied by whacked-out drawings of men summoning the psychic power to pass through walls. Channon is portrayed by Jeff Bridges in the film and renamed Bill Django, though why a man who considers himself a warrior monk would require that kind of anonymity is never explained.
The film is narrated by Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor), a small-time news rag correspondent working shortly after 9/11. He first learns about the New Earth Army while interviewing a nutjob (Stephen Root) who claims to have been trained to develop the psychic ability to kill his hamster. It’s nothing compared to Lyn Cassady, he explains. He could stop the heart of a goat. Bob’s wife has begun an affair with his one-armed editor (ouch) and Bob sees no recourse but to hurl himself into covering the Iraq War conflict. A tear rolls down his face as then-President Bush talks about American willpower on his television set. It is time for Bob to find the meaning in his life.
The universe intervenes and tosses Bob onto the same Kuwait restaurant patio as Lyn Cassady (George Clooney), a former special op who trained with the New Earth Army and has been “reactivated” to complete an unspecified mission in Iraq. Lyn believes that meeting Bob is fate, a natural result of his “Jedi” life philosophy. He describes his ability to “remote view” people and places and the role he played for the U.S. military to do just that.
I’m using a lot of quotation marks here. Lyn has an incredibly deep and disciplined understanding of universal harmony and pulled me into his lexicon of terms. He tells Bob the story of the establishment of the New Earth Army and Django, who was moved to write his manual after noticing the tendency of most new soldiers to aim high or feign distraction when told to fire on someone. The NEA operates on the belief of a fundamental decency in human beings and a connection of the human spirit to the earth. Rather than barking orders, Django leads his men in mantra-chanting and flowery hooey.
Bob finds it all fascinating, and so did I, frankly. Clooney is a wizard in the role, dialing back his suave persona to play a man who looks and behaves as though he is completely centred in a wholly unique frame of mind. He is perfectly offset by McGregor, a brilliant casting choice given his ties to the Star Wars franchise. Kevin Spacey also appears as a psychic warrior who is jealous of Lyn’s abilities and turns the whole operation to his own gain.
The film is told partly in flashback until the two timeframes coincide. Peter Straughan’s screenplay is full of small, humourous bits of detail and dialogue to show that Lyn is both completely nuts and some kind of superman. The exchanges between Clooney and McGregor are alive in their bizarreness and terrifically acted as Bob tries to reason with Lyn, who tells him that he’s missing the point. The film needs Bob, a character who is looking to take a leap, in order to ground what we’re being asked to accept. McGregor was popularized in the West as the narrator who sarcastically told an audience to “choose life”. Here, he’s had a religious awakening and is preaching every last ridiculous tenet of the dogma.
The modern war on terror, a loosely defined war to begin with, ultimately affords these insane characters the opportunity to try out new tactics of psychological warfare. Most famously, Ronson’s story brought about media reports on the use of the “I Love You” theme from the Barney & Friends television show to torture Iraqi prisoners. Politically, the film sides firmly with Kubrick in its juxtapositions of silliness and tragedy. Trying to find meaning in war is difficult, especially if you’re trying to shake off an LSD trip.
