 Late one evening, at the U.S.

S. Naval Base in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, two Marines, Private First Class Louden Downey (James Marshall) and
Lance Corporal Harold Dawson (Wolfgang Bodison) are arrested for assaulting and killing a fellow Marine of their unit, PFC William Santiago
(Michael DeLorenzo).

At first it is assumed that they attacked Santiago because he reported Dawson to the Naval Investigative Service (NIS) for illegally firing his
gun at a guard on the Cuban side of the island. However, Naval investigator and lawyer Lieutenant Commander Joanne Galloway (Demi
Moore) suspects that Dawson and Downey, who were otherwise exemplary marines, were carrying out a "Code Red", an unofficial act of
discipline in which soldiers are submitted to methods akin to bullying in order to get them to improve their performance, toe the line or follow
procedure. Santiago compared unfavorably to his fellow Marines, being clumsy and lagging behind on exercises and was socially ostracized.
He denounced Dawson in an attempt to be transferred away from Guantanamo.

Dawson and Downey are taken to a military prison in Washington D.C. to await trial. Galloway requests to defend them but the case is given
to Lieutenant Junior Grade Daniel Kaffee (Tom Cruise), a U.S. Navy Judge Advocate General's Corps lawyer who is inexperienced in courtroom
litigation, but has a reputation for arranging plea bargains, which gives him time to devote himself to his passion for softball. It is indicated
that he has a psychological fear about having to match up to his late father, Lionel Kaffee, a leading attorney, who is regarded as one of the
great trial lawyers of recent times. Galloway manages to get herself appointed as Downey's lawyer, thus playing a part in the proceedings.
The third member of the defense team is Kaffee's friend Lt. Sam Weinberg (Kevin Pollak), who is a top legal researcher.

Kaffee meets with the defendants and finds that they are of the strictest type of Marines - those that serve in a "forward area" (on the line
between their country and an enemy country) and are required to take their duties very seriously. Dawson is tough and authoritative and
believes in honor and duty. Downey, a simple-minded young man and an archetypal village idiot, is guided solely by his devotion to being a
Marine and his dedication to his superior, namely Dawson.

Kaffee, Weinberg and Galloway fly to Guantanamo Bay to examine the crime scene and to meet with the base commander, Col. Nathan R.
Jessup (Jack Nicholson), his executive officer, Lt. Col. Matthew Markinson (J.T. Walsh) and Santiago's commanding officer, Lt. Jonathan
Kendrick (Kiefer Sutherland). Pressed by Galloway, Jessup denies that Code Reds, which are against military guidelines, are practiced but
makes little secret of the fact that he sees them as a good way of enforcing discipline, especially on the front line. Jessup also tells them that
he arranged for Santiago to leave the base for his own safety once his denunciation of Dawson became known but that he died before he
could leave. At one point, Kaffee casually (and with regard for military decorum) asks Jessup for a copy of Santiago's transfer order. Jessup
says he'll comply but also hostilely demands that Kaffee ask with the proper acknowledgment of Jessup's rank as a colonel. Kaffee is cowed
into complying and Jessup happily agrees.

When the defense team returns to Washington D.C., they learn that Markinson has gone AWOL and is unlikely to be found since he is a
veteran intelligence operative who can cover his tracks.

Hours before Santiago's death, Kendrick assembled the platoon and told them that they were not to touch him. However Dawson and Downey
now tell Kaffee and Galloway that Kendrick subsequently met with them again and ordered a Code Red on Santiago. They never intended to
kill him, just to shave his head in order to teach him a lesson, but he died as a result of a rag being shoved into his mouth as a gag.

The prosecution is led by Marine Captain Jack Ross (Kevin Bacon) who is a friend of Kaffee's. Ross makes no secret of the fact that he has
been given a lot of leeway by his superiors to close the case since Colonel Jessup is expected to take up an important post with the National
Security Council (NSC) and this could be put in jeopardy due to the Santiago affair. In fact, Kaffee may have been appointed specifically
because of his reputation for plea-bargains and the hope that the case would never make it to court. Ross offers a deal which will see Dawson
and Downey serving just six months in prison. When Kaffee puts this to the defendants, however, Dawson regards such a move as cowardly
and dishonorable and rejects it, knowing that he and Downey will be dishonorably discharged from the corps. He believes that he was doing
his job and obeying orders and wants to make this point in court even if he and Downey end up serving a life sentence. Seeing Kaffee as
nothing more than a coward for making the deal and trying to avoid fighting the case, Dawson refuses to salute him when he leaves the
room.

Failing to understand Dawson's stubbornness, Kaffee at first decides to resign from the case, but after thinking things through he agrees to go
ahead. At the grand jury hearing, he enters a plea of not guilty for his defendants. He, Galloway and Weinberg work long hours preparing
their defense, which involves weeks of intensive research, discussions, planning and rehearsals. However, on the eve of the trial, Kaffee
concludes that "We're gonna get creamed!"

The court-martial begins. During the cross-examination of other Marines from Guantanamo, it is established that Code Reds are standard at
the base as a means of getting sloppy recruits to follow procedure, such as taking proper care of accommodation and equipment or
completing exercises successfully. Santiago was clearly not up to the standards and yet was not subjected to a Code Red until the evening of
his death. Cpl. Jeffrey Barnes (Noah Wyle), who has also been a victim of a Code Red and whom admits he desired to perform one with his
comrades on Santiago, claims that Dawson would not have allowed it.

In his post-mortem report, the base physician, Dr. Stone (Christopher Guest), stated that Santiago died as a result of poisons on the rag used
to gag him. These caused a condition called lactic acidosis which led to his death. However, Kaffee gets Stone to admit that lactic acidosis
could also be caused by other symptoms such as heat exhaustion caused by strenuous exercise. Kaffee then produces a report by Stone after
a routine examination of Santiago. It indicates that Santiago had respiratory stress and was supposed to be exempted from such exercises for
a while. The fact that he was not exempted means that he could have died of heat exhaustion even if the rag was perfectly clean but that
Stone had to cover-up his negligence. Kaffee, however, is still unable to get the doctor to admit that he falsified his report of Santiago's death
to cover for Jessup and Kendrick. Galloway makes a strong objection that also fails with the judge and she is reprimanded by Weinberg.

Kaffee's effectiveness as a litigator strengthens as the trial progresses and he proves to be a tough and clever cross-examiner, impressing
even Galloway by the way he handles the proceedings. However, he is under little illusion that his clients are unlikely to be let off. They have
never denied assaulting Santiago so the best Kaffee can do is persuade the jury that they did not intend to kill him and that they were acting
under orders from Lt. Kendrick.

While cross-examining Kendrick, Kaffee confronts him over the fact that he denied Dawson a promotion after the latter helped out a fellow
Marine who had been denied food for several days for stealing liquor from the officers' mess. Under oath, Kendrick denies ever ordering
Dawson and Downey to inflict a Code Red on Santiago -- he stands by his commanding officer and his duty as a marine despite being rattled
by Kaffee's line of questioning. Kaffee also receives reprimands from both the judge and Captain Ross for trying to smear Kendrick's
exemplary record as an officer.

Lieutenant-Colonel Markinson, Jessup's executive officer, who has gone AWOL since the incident, resurfaces in Kaffee's car half-way through
the trial. When Kaffee was in Cuba, Jessup told him that Santiago was due to be transferred off the base for his own safety but Markinson
now reveals that that was a lie and that transfer orders were created as part of a cover-up after Santiago's death. Jessup wanted Santiago to
stay on the base in order to be "trained". He also remarks that though he cannot do anything about Kaffee's appointment to the case, he can
at least help him win the case for his clients.

A flashback scene shows a meeting between Jessup, Markinson and Kendrick, set on the morning prior to Santiago's death. Jessup was
annoyed at the fact that Santiago went above the chain of command when reporting Dawson to the NIS for shooting at the Cuban guard and
was not up to doing the tough exercises required at the base. Markinson advocated that Santiago be transferred immediately for safety
reasons - the other marines would take revenge for his snitching on Dawson - but Jessup vehemently refused on the grounds that this would
set a bad precedent which could weaken their defenses and cost lives. He also makes a grand show of suggesting that transferring Santiago
would mean that every other marine on the base would also have to be transferred. He decides that officers have a responsibility to ensure
that all personnel are trained appropriately and that Santiago should stay for "training". Jessup orders Kendrick to ensure that Santiago show
significant improvement on the next evaluation report or he would be held personally responsible. When Markinson objects, Jessup berates
and demeans him for questioning his decisions in front of Kendrick, a junior officer, and even implies that Markinson did it out of jealousy for
the fact that, although they graduated in the same year and had similar careers, Jessup still outranks him.

Back in the present, Markinson also states that Santiago could have left the base in a plane on the evening of his death, rather than the
following day as Jessup had claimed. Kaffee is unable to find evidence of the earlier flight in the log book from the Guantanamo airfield.
Markinson believes that Jessup has been covering his tracks.

Back in court, evidence comes up which questions whether Kendrick ordered Dawson and Downey to carry out the Code Red, something the
defense has always taken for granted. It now emerges that Downey was on guard duty and was late reporting back and not in the barracks at
the time when Kendrick supposedly gave the order to Dawson. Thus it is the word of Dawson, who had a personal grievance towards
Santiago, against that of Kendrick, a highly-decorated, God-fearing officer.

Kaffee wants Markinson to testify but rather than publicly dishonor himself and the Marine Corps, Markinson sends a letter to Santiago's
parents, blaming his own weakness for the loss of their son, dresses in full dress uniform and commits suicide with his own sidearm.

Without Markinson's crucial testimony, Kaffee believes that the case is lost and gets drunk. Galloway tries to convince him to summon Jessup
to court and confront him. She believes that Jessup ordered the Code Red and that they have to get him to admit it. There is no evidence for
this whatsoever and falsely accusing a superior officer of such a felony could result in Kaffee himself facing a court-martial which will ruin his
career. Kaffee loudly and harshly admonishes Galloway for suggesting such a wild plan and she storms out of his apartment. After she leaves,
Kaffee reflects on his late father with Weinberg. Weinberg admits that, with the evidence they have, Kaffee's father would never try to blame
Jessup, but also says he would rather have the younger Kaffee as lawyer for Dawson and Downey any day, considering the fearless manner
with which he questioned Kendrick. Weinberg pushes his friend to consider if it is he or Lionel Kaffee who is handling the case and Daniel
Kaffee finally decides to put Jessup on the stand. He finds Galloway walking away in the rain and convinces her to rejoin them when he tells
her about calling Jessup in for testimony.

At another meeting at Kaffee's house, he tells his partners that they have to rebuild the case against Jessup himself. When Kaffee goes into
his closet to find his lucky baseball bat, he's suddenly inspired by his uniforms hanging neatly on the rack. He leaves without a word and
begins a new line of research involving phone records. He calls Sam with a new task; Sam has to go to Andrews Air Force base.

Jessup is summoned to court. Just as Kaffee is about to start his cross-examination, Weinberg arrives with two Airmen from the Andrews Air
Force Base which Jessup does not fail to notice. Kaffee initially gets Jessup to confirm that he had arranged for Santiago to be transferred off
the base for his own safety and that the earliest flight was in the morning following his death.

Kaffee then questions him over his travel habits. Jessup admits packing sets of clothes, including civilian and military, and various other
items. He also admits phoning several friends and relatives in order to meet them while in Washington.

Kaffee then points out that Santiago did none of these things. At the time of his death his clothes were unpacked and still hanging in his
closet and, after spending months in desperate and vain attempts to get a transfer, he did not contact anyone or make arrangements to be
picked up at the airport.
Kaffee is hoping to show that the transfer order was phony. However Jessup successfully outsmarts him by saying that he cannot speculate
on Santiago's habits and he especially belittles Kaffee for pinning his clients' defense on a phone bill. Kaffee is struck dumb by this setback
and Jessup is about to leave with a triumphant smug when the young man demands that he sit back down in the witness chair. Jessup also
draws a reprimand from the judge when he slyly criticizes the judge's courtroom procedure.

Kaffee now asks if Jessup ordered Kendrick to tell the men not to touch Santiago. Jessup confirms the order and reconfirms that Santiago was
to be transferred in case the men attacked him. Kaffee asks if Kendrick or the men may have questioned the order and decided to take
matters into their own hands. Jessup angrily rejects this stating that as front-line troops his men have to obey orders at all times without
question. At this moment, Kaffee points out that if Jessup's orders are always obeyed then there was no reason to transfer Santiago at all.

Momentarily stunned, Jessup tries to come up with alternative explanations for Santiago's transfer which are torpedoed by Kaffee who
demands to be told the truth, at which point Jessup explodes: "You can't handle the truth!"

Because he defends his country in a forward area, Colonel Jessup does not see why Kaffee, who has never been on the front line, should even
question his methods from "under the blanket of the very freedom I provide". Kaffee should either thank him for protecting his country and
his way of life or take up a gun and do it himself. Kaffee suddenly begins a tirade of questioning, demanding that Jessup admit he ordered the
Code Red. In a fury, Jessup yells that he did.

At the prompting of Kaffee and the Judge, prosecutor Ross places Jessup under arrest. Jessup is outraged and lashes out at Kaffee, accusing
him of weakening the nation. Kaffee simply expresses satisfaction that Jessup will go to jail for the death of Santiago. He later admits to Ross
that the Airmen were brought to court as a bluff to make Jessup believe that the defense had evidence of the earlier flight which he covered-
up. Kendrick will also be arrested for ordering the Code Red, committing perjury and participating in the cover-up.

Dawson and Downey are found not guilty of murder but are dishonorably discharged for "conduct unbecoming a United States Marine."
Downey is confused, pointing out that Jessup confirmed that they were obeying orders, but, after getting over the initial shock, Dawson
points out that they failed to stand up for those too weak to stand up for themselves, like Santiago. As the two prepare to leave, Kaffee tells
Dawson he doesn't have to be a soldier to have honor. Dawson, who had previously refused to salute Kaffee, who he saw as a coward, now
announces "There's an officer on deck!" and they exchange salutes.
MOVIE REVIEW
Review/Film; Two Marines and Their Code on Trial
By VINCENT CANBY
Published: December 11, 1992

The role doesn't have to be big, but if it's good, and if the actor playing it is great, the results can be magically transforming. Witness Jack
Nicholson's vicious, funny, superbly reptilian turn in Rob Reiner's entertaining "A Few Good Men," adapted by Aaron Sorkin from his hit
Broadway courtroom drama.

Mr. Nicholson doesn't steal the film, which would mean that he somehow separates himself from everybody else in it. Rather, in the course of
only a handful of scenes, he seems to suffuse the entire production, giving it a weight, density and point that might not otherwise be apparent.

The role, beautifully written, is made to Mr. Nicholson's order. It's that of Col. Nathan R. Jessep of the United States Marine Corps, a tough,
bigoted Vietnam veteran, a career officer shaped by decades of cold-war politics. By chance, Jessep is stationed in that last corner of the earth
where the cold war goes on as if there were no yesterday.

He's the commander of the marines stationed at the American naval base on the southwestern coast of Cuba at Guantanamo Bay, on a small
bit of arid real estate protecting one of the best anchorages in the western Atlantic, a legacy of the Spanish-American War. It's there that the
United States and Cuba, separated by barbed wire and command posts, have continued to co-exist through the Bay of Pigs invasion, the great
missile crisis and a continuing, crippling economic embargo, in one of the strangest examples of symbiosis to be found in all of international
relations.

This geographic fact becomes a central image in the film adaptation, which gracefully opens up the story of a military court-martial without
allowing the tension to evaporate. There are times when the movie seems to force-feed the audience essential information, and when the
audience might well wonder whether the emotional crises of the defense lawyers really are of more interest than the fates of the two men on
trial.

Yet such things are built into the structure and nature of the drama, which is less about the workings of the military than about the mechanics
of this particular inquiry. The story is this: in the course of what appears to be a hazing incident at Guantanamo, a Marine private has died,
apparently poisoned by the rag stuffed into his throat before his mouth was taped. Two enlisted men are charged with the murder. As often
happens during proceedings of this sort, the victim and the men on trial become less important than the politics surrounding the case.

The Marine Corps would like to wrap it up as quickly and efficiently as possible. To this end, a hot-shot young naval lawyer, Lieut. (j.g.) Daniel
Kaffee (Tom Cruise), is assigned to the defense with the understanding that he'll persuade the defendants to accept a plea bargain. Also
assigned to the defense is Lieut. Comdr. JoAnne Galloway (Demi Moore), who acts as Kaffee's conscience, eventually persuading him that
there is a strong possibility that the two enlisted men were, in fact, acting on orders from their officers.

The investigation, initially undertaken by Kaffee with some reluctance, uncovers the fact that the victim, Pfc. William T. Santiago (Michael
DeLorenzo), had for some time been trying to transfer out of his unit. Also, that he had ignored both the Marine Corps code and its chain of
command. He had written letters to Washington offering to testify that he had witnessed an incident in which a member of his unit had
arbitrarily fired on a Cuban watchtower near the base.

As the investigation continues, Kaffee and Galloway, who clearly never go to the movies, read a book or spend much time talking to career
service personnel, are surprised to discover a kind of military mind that, to them, seems prehistoric. The two defendants at first behave like
automatons. Pfc. Louden Downey (James Marshall) is so taciturn that he seems seriously retarded. His co-defendant and spokesman, Lance
Cpl. Harold W. Dawson (Wolfgang Bodison), refuses all offers of help. He will stoically accept whatever punishment is meted out. The two
men simply parrot the Marines' code of fidelity to unit, corps, God and country.

On a fact-finding trip to Guantanamo, Kaffee, Galloway and their assistant Lieut. Sam Weinberg (Kevin Pollak) have their first brush with
Jessep at a scary lunch, during which the colonel cheerfully lies through his teeth. For Galloway's benefit, he also describes the special kind of
high one can get when having sex with a superior officer. According to Jessep, that's one of the few benefits of an integrated service.

"A Few Good Men" doesn't pack the surprises of "Witness for the Prosecution," nor does it probe very deeply into the psyche of men who
exercise the power of dictators in a society that congratulates itself on its freedoms. It's no "Full-Metal Jacket." "A Few Good Men" recalls
something of "The Caine Mutiny Court Martial," though it is most troubling not for the questions it raises, but for the casual way it finally
treats its two lost, utterly bewildered defendants.

The screenplay is a good one, directed with care and acted, for the most part, with terrific conviction. Among the supporting players who do
exceptional work are Kiefer Sutherland, as a Marine officer who is a Jessep in the making; J. T. Walsh, as an officer fatally flawed by
conscience; Kevin Bacon, who appears as the military prosecutor, and Mr. Bodison, a new young actor whose performance as the more
prominent defendant gives the film its melancholy shock value.

Mr. Cruise, Ms. Moore and Mr. Pollak are perfectly adequate in less flashy roles, which, unlike the others, appear to have been constructed to
keep the plot moving right along. They have to play it comparatively straight, which must be maddening when the actors around them are
having such a colorful time.

Mr. Nicholson is in his own league. His Jessep is both a joy to watch because of the actor's skill, and an explanation of why the United States
base at Guantanamo Bay, whatever its military value, continues to exist. "A Few Good Men" is a big commercial entertainment of unusually
satisfying order.

"A Few Good Men," which has been rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian), has a lot of vulgar language and
some violence.

A Few Good Men

Directed by Rob Reiner; written by Aaron Sorkin, based on his play; director of photography, Robert Richardson; edited by Robert Leighton;
music by Marc Shaiman; production designer, J. Michael Riva; produced by David Brown, Mr. Reiner and Andrew Scheinman; released by
Columbia Pictures and Castle Rock Entertainment. Running time: 140 minutes. This film is rated R. Lieut. (j.g.) Daniel Kaffee . . . Tom Cruise
Col. Nathan R. Jessep . . . Jack Nicholson Lieut. Comdr. JoAnne Galloway . . . Demi Moore Capt. Jack Ross . . . Kevin Bacon Lieut. Jonathan
Kendrick . . . Kiefer Sutherland Lieut. Sam Weinberg . . . Kevin Pollak Pfc. Louden Downey . . . James Marshall Lieut. Col. Matthew
Markinson . . . J. T. Walsh Dr. Stone . . . Christopher Guest Judge Randolph . . . J. A. Preston Lieut. Dave Spradling . . . Matt Craven Lance
Cpl. Harold W. Dawson Wolfgang Bodison Pfc. William T. Santiago . . . Michael DeLorenzo

‘A Few Good Men’ picks up

where ‘Patton’ left off
Surely at the end of “A Few Good Men,” there’s a date in store for Danny and Jo.

That it didn’t happen during the film is a testament to the suspense capabilities of Aaron Sorkin and Rob Reiner, who only managed to
convince you there’s a romance here for as long as they needed to.

“A Few Good Men” is quite possibly, with the possible exception of “Urban Cowboy,” the most chauvinist popular mainstream American
film since the 1970s — starting with its title. Doesn’t Jo get any credit? No, and not even a date.

Not a problem. Web searches do not indicate the National Organization for Women ever protested the film. Roger Ebert, in his original 1992
review, makes no mention of sexism, notes the lack of mutual attraction and says a friend told him Jo was “originally conceived of as a man,
and got changed into a woman for Broadway and Hollywood box office reasons, without ever quite being rewritten into a woman.”

The goal of the film is to get Tom Cruise’s underachieving Daniel Kaffee to finally realize what a great lawyer he is and start serving society
at a much higher level. Typically, a character such as Demi Moore’s Jo would be something of a Princess Leia-esque equal. Instead she is
merely another button-pusher for Danny, a woman who makes him a better man. She’s the lone figure to whom incompetence is assigned. Jo
gets walked over by the males (superiors and subordinates alike) in the Navy legal department, has so poorly prepped her own client for trial
that by any analysis she should be removed as counsel, bungles her team’s first big courtroom score by “strenuously” objecting, and even
has to ask Danny out for dinner, not the other way around.

Is she actually good at anything? Well, yes. She has instinct. This is not so inconsequential as it may seem. She senses right away there’s
something stinky about this case, and she correctly realizes Danny is the right person to lead the defense. She’s relentless and doesn’t quit.
There’s an ideal job for her somewhere, it’s just not in the Navy or in this movie.

While the goal is getting Danny to find himself, the film’s message is an unmistakable acceleration of “Patton”: Old-school military is no
longer any good. Jessep pays for being a dinosaur. He underestimates the potential of a woman, who is capable of defeating him. Instead of
protecting his troops, his tactics harm them. He promotes and relies on a man he knows to be of inferior character, Kendrick, because
Kendrick serves his anti-enlightenment agenda. The modern military needs people like Jo, not people like Jessep.

Sorkin struggles mightily with Jessep’s motivation. Is this one of history’s greatest villains ... or a sympathetic fall guy. What really is
Jessep’s problem? He’s got a chip on his shoulder. He feels underappreciated. But why? He explains early that he’s been promoted faster
than his rival Markinson (one of several examples of the film’s résumé-reciting that is so out of control, the script even has Kaffee make fun
of it later). It’s made abundantly clear he’s heading to a premium position at the National Security Council. He’s not running an unpopular
war, but safeguarding a base in peacetime. In Jessep’s case, the system clearly works. Why is he so adamant about disrespect?

Consider what must’ve been Jessep’s emotions during his testimony. He ordered an event that caused the death of one of his Marines.
Certainly he believes an early statement he makes to the court, that Santiago’s death, “while tragic,” probably saved lives. Does he really
believe Dawson and Downey poisoned the rag? Probably not. Would he want them to spend time in jail and be dishonored? He can make
flights disappear, but he’s unable to arrange anything better than six months and a dishonorable discharge for Dawson and Downey. This is
where the script lacks richness. We’re to believe Jessep comes unglued only over Kaffee’s snarkiness, when there could, and probably
should, be a much deeper reason — the torment of watching troops under his command punished for carrying out his orders.

One reason “A Few Good Men” remains remarkably watchable two decades later is that the errors and shortcomings almost seem more like
the work of genius. It should be standard that Danny and Jo must become a social team, but the infinite dangling of that treat only heightens
the drama. The victim’s family is not only not demanding justice, but inexplicably AWOL from the film, clearing the way for capable Kevin
Pollak to play the skeptic and sparing us any regrets from celebrating Danny’s triumph. Three or four soulless conversations are devoted to a
person never seen in the film, Danny’s father. Yet the dialogue in those exchanges, delivered by Jack Nicholson and Pollak, is so amusingly
self-aware, it’s as if the characters know they are discussing a fictional person and letting everyone else in on the joke.

Ebert’s beef is that Danny, when discussing his final courtroom strategy with his associates, telegraphs the climactic scene that should not be
telegraphed. Ebert has a point. It’s superseded by the cleverness of how Danny gets to that historic moment, with one of the greatest
questions of logic ever posed in a movie, and one you didn’t see coming: “If your orders are always followed, then why would ...”

Sorkin, who wrote the screenplay, became well-known for TV’s “The West Wing,” which snapped through White House drama at
breakneck pace. Sorkin’s propensity to deliver a line in “A Few Good Men” is off the charts; pretty much every character slings the b.s. in
every scene, leading up to “You can’t handle the truth,” the most famous movie line of the last 20 years, more famous even than “Show me
the money” from a later Tom Cruise film.

In fact the “truth” quote overshadows a lot of other moments of great dialogue. Turn it on TV at any moment, you get a zinger. “Possession
of a condiment ... We really need the practice ... Wear matching socks. Good tip. ... Strenuously object ... The entire time you’ve been at
Gitmo you’ve never had a meal? ... I was expecting someone older. So was I ... There is nothing on this earth sexier, believe me gentlemen,
than a woman you have to salute in the morning. ... You don’t even know me. Ordinarily it takes someone hours to discover I’m not fit to
handle a defense. ... Don’t look now Danny, you’re making an argument. Huh? Oh yeah ...”

Are there some clunkers? Yes, such as Danny’s “steak knives” tirade, his flat “sexually aroused” comeback to an early spiel from Jo,
Jessep’s ridiculous “surrendering our position” gag, and the potentially effective scene of Kaffee’s bewilderment of actual real-life law
marred by the screenwriter’s need to somehow include “a courtroom” rather than “it” in Danny’s reflection, “So this is what a courtroom
looks like.” The movie occasionally will underestimate your intelligence (why we need words on the screen early to tell us we’re at
Guantanamo and Washington, who knows), which may partly explain why the final courtroom questioning is so effective.

Sorkin has told of how the inspiration for the play and film came from his sister Deborah, who was assigned a similar case in the Navy’s
Judge Advocate General Corps. Sorkin says he was bartending at the time, and upon hearing that his sister was headed to Guantanamo,
began writing the script on a cocktail napkin.

“A Few Good Men” would almost have the feel of a classic noir if it weren’t so sunny and ’90s-ish. Consider where the crime occurs.

In the early ’90s, and to this day, the Korean DMZ would be an ideal location for Jessep’s unit. It’s peacetime, but a threat very much exists
on the other side of the wall. A fence-line shooting would be a very serious international incident.

But that would add at least a small amount of legitimacy to Jessep’s Patton-esque argument and clearly was not the direction a filmmaker
such as Rob Reiner saw the country heading in 1992. So we have shiny and warm Cuba, where officers are even made to look ridiculous
trying to camouflage themselves from the “grave” danger of Cuban soldiers who are deemed so threatening by the script, they are never
depicted in the film.

From the beginning we have characters slowly learning about events that occurred offscreen before the film ever started, or just very shortly
thereafter. There must have been a fascinating discussion in the editing room as to whether the scene of Jessep, Markinson and Kendrick
arguing should go out of sequence. Reiner evidently decides this backstory needs context and can’t be shown chronologically, which would
be first. Or, he’s just compelled to lead with the homicide. Is the Jessep confab really needed? By the time Danny and Jo have conversed
with the colonel and Kendrick over lunch, we know that Jessep has lied, which makes things simple but also eschews what might’ve been a
more fascinating whodunit. Of course Kaffee doesn’t exist for that, but to realize his potential.

The process of the defense team’s discovery isn’t nearly sexy enough; a huge roadblock exists in the dim-wittedness of the two defendants,
who for strange reasons seem content to be wrongly convicted and spend decades in jail. They volunteer virtually no information that might
help their cause. Incredibly, we ultimately find that the most clueless defendant has so poorly informed his attorneys of what he actually did
that the entire defense is dealt a massive, embarrassing setback at a critical moment. (That Downey, and not Dawson, is the one testifying
defies reason; the script needs one of them on the stand to provide a setback and Dawson apparently would be above that, so this angle can
be implicitly written off as an example of Jo’s incompetence.)

Because the case proceeds at ridiculous lightning pace, we learn virtually nothing about our victim, Santiago. He is not physically up to the
job. However, he is much less concerned about that than reporting his fellow Marines to the highest authorities. What kind of audacity is
this? Apparently he is angry at being shunned at the mess hall. He’s desperate to get out. So he accuses his lone defender, Dawson, of a
serious transgression in a manner that will clearly make Santiago a pariah not just on his base but in the entire Marine Corps.

How often do fence-line shootings happen, and are they a big deal? Chances are, that’s classified. Either one of two things is true: Dawson is
so reckless that he’s the one who endangered the Corps and should be out, or Santiago has gone to such great lengths to cause trouble that
many people probably would think a code red is in order.

“The West Wing,” as well as the recent hit “The Social Network,” is ample proof of Sorkin’s prodigious ability to write fast-paced stories.
“Men” never feels boring. Where he struggles in this picture is the backstory, an inability or unwillingness to show why characters are the
way they are, but reducing most of the emotion and motivation to soundbites and endless résumés. They are not “thin” characters, just
incomplete.

His premise is sound — an underachiever who realizes his potential. But Sorkin is never totally sure why Danny is an underachiever.

A lot of films, such as Paul Newman’s “The Verdict,” would suggest substance abuse. Sorkin opts for something along the lines of Han
Solo, completely functional and highly competent at what he does, only at the lowest-common-denominator level.

Kaffee, we’re led to believe, has wilted beneath his unseen father’s success. Reiner, though, is unwilling to show either Pops or a young
Danny in flashback. Obviously Dad made it big, Junior feels like he’ll never measure up, and so Junior is taking life’s path of least
resistance, the lawyer equivalent of clock-punching despite occasionally flashing remarkable instinct. Why is Danny so unambitious? Every
time Sorkin tries to tell us, it fizzles.

One thing Reiner is crystal-clear about is that there will be no racial overtones in this film. Dawson, the superior of the two Marines charged,
is African-American. So is J.A. Preston’s impressive judge Randolph. An African-American woman is seen at Kaffee’s morning assignment
meeting, and African Americans constitute much of the jury box. All of that, refreshingly, would escape notice nowadays as routine, except
that Reiner remarkably feels it necessary to tell viewers twice, clumsily, that Danny is not a bigot, presumably because the script requires
Danny to hector Dawson. One of those moments involves a scene of Danny joking with the newsstand operator, who is black, unnecessarily
used to foreshadow Markinson’s later arrival at the same location. The other moment is when Jessep recites Lionel Kaffee’s résumé as a
civil rights defender to Kendrick, a curious implication that Kendrick in fact might be bigoted, which does not seem to be a notion the rest of
the film is willing to accept even though the deceased is Hispanic and Kendrick admits to punishing Dawson, for being a samaritan and not
following an order.

For the hero, Sorkin interestingly takes the opposite approach of “Top Gun,” the blockbuster that catapulted Cruise to megastardom about
six years previous. Many dismiss that picture as a special-effects/beefcake celebration light on useful drama, but in fact there is solid
conventional footing, a hotshot military underachiever who makes mistakes because he is trying to outperform his late father. Where
Maverick Mitchell needs to rein in the discipline, Daniel Kaffee needs to let it go, finally see what he can do.

Cruise, Sorkin and Reiner are in lockstep at revealing Danny’s potential. Consider how Cruise spins one potentially tiresome scene into a
moment of greatness. Danny, with Weinberg, meets Jo for the first time, and after expressing the usual male insolence toward Jo’s rank, very
credibly displays little grasp of the importance of the case or Navy hierarchy in general. Out of nowhere, Danny asks a couple quick
questions, including, “Am I correct to assume that these letters don’t paint a flattering picture of Marine Corps life at Guantanamo Bay?” and
in a moment has a plea and 12-year sentence figured out, concluding with “Pretty impressive, huh,” a sign of his brilliance and
underachievement all in one tremendously effective moment.
Perhaps the most valid complaint about Cruise’s performance — aside from a few bits of likely intentional overacting such as in the
“galactically stupid” rant — is that he is simply too good as a courtroom attorney. This brings to mind the staggering turn in “Friday Night
Lights” of Billy Bob Thornton, who is so good you’re inclined to think he’s running an NFL team.

Cruise is so effective in court from Day 1, and so unflappable as the case progresses, he actually makes lawyering look way too easy. This is
supposedly a newcomer at trial law. Yet he never makes a mistake. Why is this newcomer to a courtroom instructing his seasoned colleague
Sam Weinberg before the trial starts to never look surprised? Kaffee makes all the right calls from the defense table, always uses the right
tone, does not appear frustrated and requires no help from his more seasoned (at least in the case of Weinberg) colleagues. One wonders how
easy this case would’ve been for him if his defendants merely had a clue and if Markinson wasn’t racked by guilt.

One of the strongest images a director can produce is the look of respect from an adversary. Perhaps the best ever is Carl Weathers’ painful
sigh when he sees Rocky Balboa rise in the 14th round. While not nearly as dramatic, Reiner delivers with Kevin Bacon’s expression after
Kaffee has made a neat little counterpoint about directions to the mess hall in the Marine Corps handbook. Unfortunately, given the strengths
Danny has already exhibited in court, this is almost anticlimactic and would carry greater significance if it came from the judge, or perhaps
even Jessep, though the chosen, unyielding temperament for Jessep seems correct.

One thing that isn’t going to derail Danny’s rise is romance. If the script had a deeper story, one might suspect that Reiner is trying to tell us
something about Danny. No sign of any girlfriends, no interest in Jo, and a home whose decor doesn’t quite suggest swingin’ bachelor pad.

The script, though, plays it straight, and in the end there’s no reason to think Danny doesn’t either. Reiner is almost oddly defiant about
romance. Jo isn’t really interested, and neither is Danny. Reiner uses a remarkably sexist Jessep comment in Guantanamo to suggest Danny
and Jo will ultimately be partners in more than just a legal case, but his chauvinism is quickly ignored. There are two or three moments as a
viewer when one senses, “OK, here’s the breakthrough where Jo helps Danny out and he sweeps her away,” but it never happens. By the end
it’s no longer relevant. Jo can reset her career priorities, and Danny can think about the big leagues.

For all of his flourish, Cruise, as is typical, was ignored by the Oscars. Best leading actor nominees included Al Pacino (winner, “Scent of a
Woman”), Clint Eastwood, Denzel Washington and Robert Downey Jr. Nicholson received a supporting nomination; in a year packed with
legends, he lost to Gene Hackman from “Unforgiven.” “A Few Good Men” collected four nominations, including ones for sound and
editing, but won none. Its greatest endorsement is the best picture nomination, back in the day when there were only five.

Is Jessep really in big trouble? He’s not going to get the NSC gig, but most likely a man able to make flights disappear will receive enough
establishment support to avoid much more than a reprimand. Retirement is imminent. Notice the movie avoids any characterization of what
the actual order was. He and Kendrick can say they never ordered a rag in the mouth. The doctor, as Danny indicates, will ultimately have a
lot to answer for. Santiago’s death will be pinned more on medical incompetence than hazing gone awry, and his invisible family will
receive a settlement. Despite the verdicts in the film, Dawson and Downey are realistically likely on the hook for some kind of involuntary
manslaughter, if in the form of a civil suit.

Where is Danny going? He’s apolitical, and the military seems too formal and unforgiving, so just as Jo suggests, he’ll probably end up a
celebrated trial lawyer at some elite New York or L.A. firm. But he doesn’t seem highly motivated by money, and a lofty position would be
certain to cut into his softball time. By the end we’re never really sure if he actually believed in his clients, or just their case.

The toughest critics will acknowledge the great work of Cruise-Nicholson but dismiss this picture like one of Kaffee’s plea bargains. That’s
fair, but an injustice. Sorkin and Reiner haven’t put together so much a great movie, but the greatest episode of “Law & Order” ever
produced.