Jarhead (film)

2005 film directed by Sam Mendes

Jarhead is a 2005 film based on U.S. Marine Anthony Swofford's 2003 Gulf War memoir of the same name. The title comes from the slang term used to refer to Marines (sometimes by Marines themselves). The film was directed by Sam Mendes.

I could be working with my brother right now. He's got a dry-wall business in Compton. Does the inside of office buildings — you know, the metal studs. I could be his partner. Said he'd give me that brand new Dodge Ram Charger — you know, the 318 Magnum? The beast? All indoor work, too, lots of AC. I could sleep with my wife every night, fuck her, maybe; take my kids to school every morning. And I'd run his crews, too, probably increase productivity 40 to 50%. Make $100K a year. Do you know why I don't? Because I love this job. I thank God for every fucking day he gives me in the Corps. Oorah.
Hey, fuck politics, all right? We're here. All the rest is bullshit.

Anthony Swofford

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  • So now, my hands were dick-skinners. A flashlight was a moon-beam. A pen was an ink stick. My mouth was a cum receptacle. A bed was a rack. A wall was a bulkhead. A shirt was a blouse. A tie was still a tie, and a belt a belt. But many other things would never be the same.
  • Four days, four hours, one minute. That was my war.

Staff Sgt. Sykes

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  • Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I am the baddest motherfucker in the goddamn valley.
  • I could be working with my brother right now. He's got a dry-wall business in Compton. Does the inside of office buildings — you know, the metal studs. I could be his partner. Said he'd give me that brand new Dodge Ram Charger — you know, the 318 Magnum? The beast? All indoor work, too, lots of AC. I could sleep with my wife every night, fuck her, maybe; take my kids to school every morning. And I'd run his crews, too, probably increase productivity 40 to 50%. Make $100K a year. Do you know why I don't? Because I love this job. I thank God for every fucking day he gives me in the Corps. Oorah.
  • You are a Marine. There is no such thing as speech that is free. You must pay for everything that you say.
  • You laugh, you die. Scratch your nose, you die. You shift your weight to take a piss, you will die. You want to shit, you better shit in your pants.
  • (to a reporter who heard Swofford say 'field fuck') He said 'field fun!'

Corporal Troy

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  • Hey, fuck politics, all right? We're here. All the rest is bullshit.

PFC Dave Fowler

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  • Fucker's fucked now.

Dialogue

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[first lines]
Anthony Swofford: [voice-over] A story. A man fires a rifle for many years. And he goes to war. And afterward, he turns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands — love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper — his hands remember the rifle.
Drill Instructor Fitch: You are no longer black, or brown, or yellow, or red! You are now green! You are light green or dark green! Do you understand?
Recruits: [loudly] Sir, yes sir!
Fitch: Swofford.
Swofford: Sir, yes, sir!
Fitch: You the maggot whose father served in Vietnam?
Swofford: Sir, yes, sir!
Fitch: Outstanding! Did he have the balls to die there?
Swofford: Sir, no, sir!
Fitch: Too fucking bad! Did he ever talk about it?
Swofford: Sir, only once, sir!
Fitch: Good! Then he wasn't lying! Are you eyeballing me with those baby blues? Are you?
Swofford: Sir, no, sir!
Fitch: Are you in love with me, Swofford?
Swofford: Sir, no, sir!
Fitch: Oh, you don't think I look good in my uniform, Swofford?
Swofford: Sir, the Drill Instructor looks fabulous in his uniform, sir!
Fitch: Oh, so you're gay then, and you love me, huh?
Swofford: Sir, I'm not gay, sir!
Fitch: Do you have a girlfriend, Swofford?
Swofford: Sir, yes, sir!
Fitch: Guess again, motherfucker! Jody's banging her right now. Get on your face and give me 25 for every time she gets fucked this month. Down on your face!
Swofford: [voice-over] It was shortly after meeting Drill Instructor Fitch that I realized that joining the Marine Corps might have been a bad decision.

Drill Instructor Fitch: [looking at blackboard] What in the fuck is this?
Anthony Swofford: Sir, it's the recruit's drawing of a footlocker, sir!
Fitch: Jesus, Joseph, and doggy-style Mary! That is a pile of dogshit!
Swofford: Sir, the recruit's never been good at drawing, sir!
Fitch: Why the fuck are you my scribe, then? Isn't my scribe supposed to know how to draw?
Swofford: Sir, the recruit doesn't know. The recruit thought the scribe was supposed to write, sir!
Fitch: [forcing Swofford to his knees by the throat] Of course the recruit doesn't know! The recruit doesn't know because I haven't told him! [slapping Swofford's head] All right, cum-for-brains. Show me exactly—
Swofford: Sir—
Fitch: —where your skivvies and running shoes go!
Swofford: Sir, the recruit can't think while the Drill Instructor is hitting him on his head, sir!
Fitch: You can't think while I'm giving you a few love taps? How the fuck are you going to fire your rifle when grenades are going off in your face? What the fuck are you even doing here?
Swofford: [enraged] Sir! I got lost on the way to college, sir!

Desk Clerk: Swofford. What kind of fucking name is that?
Anthony Swofford: It's English. My great-grandfather came over here in the 19th century.
Desk Clerk: Whatever. I'm putting you in Golf Company. It's full of retards and fuck-ups. Maybe you can elevate the sons-of-bitches a little. [looks up] Or maybe not. Next!

Cpl Alan Troy: [wearing a gas mask, mimicking Darth Vader.] Luke.
[Swofford looks up at Troy]
Troy: Come over to the dark side, Luke.
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