Screen idol Tom Cruise has rarely been as exposed—or as grating—as he is in Stone’s tale of lost American innocence. As paralyzed Vietnam vet Ron Kovic, the actor journeys through a series of wartime archetypes: first an off-putting alpha male armed with patriotic slogans, then a textbook soldier, then a self-denying PTSD victim, and finally a long-haired loose cannon drunkenly shouting insurrectionary rhetoric and leading antiwar protests. Born on the Fourth of July fits squarely within the tradition of American-made Vietnam War films in its use of a coming-of-age structure to restore a sense of triumph and righteousness to a dishonorable period in our history; however, it is distinguished by the sustained fury of its attack. Stone drills this rebellious anger to the gut through a hyper-saturated, big-canvas expressionism that yields a battery of unforgettable images: patriotic parade floats cutting through a postcard-perfect Main Street, a silhouetted G.I. charging in front of the sunset before being gunned down, and two disillusioned cripples tussling in the red desert of Mexico—a pitiful display of deflated American machismo.