I used to tend bar near Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, which, in the early ‘90s, was Crack Cocaine Central. We had an interesting regular: Freddy, in his mid-30s, wore combat boots, an army jacket, skull tattoos, an drab-olive green bandana, and lamented that he’d missed his mission in life. Freddy felt deeply that he should have been in “The ‘Nam.” Oliver Stone’s “Platoon” shows why.

Mark Jackson
Film Critic
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