Trauma, Tragedy, Recovery, and Justice in Rambo: First Blood

Depictions of PTSD

The film Rambo: First Blood was released in 1982, just two years after the release of the third edition of the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental
Disorders (DSM-III). While the concept of combat-related stress disorders is at least a hundred years old in the form of “shell shock,” it wasn’t until 1980 that the phrase “post-traumatic stress disorder” (PTSD) became a formal psychiatric diagnosis. It was still later that the general public acquired a basic knowledge of the condition. Between WWII and the publication of the DSM-III, the majority opinion of professionals, particularly in the military, was that soldiers who suffered from what was then called “gross stress reaction” were likely “weaklings,” lacking in either strength or character (Wilbur Scott, “PTSD in DSM-III: A Case in the Politics of Diagnosis and Disease,” Social Problems, Vol. 37, No. 3, 1990,

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294-310). Such retrograde views of PTSD are uncommon today, and such changes in public perception should not be taken for granted. They were the result of better science and political advocacy. It is within this historical context that First Blood’s depiction of trauma is so meaningful. The hyper-masculine Rambo, by the end of the film, cries in the arms of another man.

Sylvester Stallone, one of the great physical actors of his day, starred and co-wrote the script of First Blood based on a novel by David Morrell. Morrell developed the idea for his book while teaching a writing class; many of the students in the class were Vietnam veterans, who over time disclosed their experiences of what we now call PTSD. The movie opens with Rambo, wearing a worn-out army jacket, long hair, and a backpack over his shoulder, walking toward a house with a smile on his face. Rambo believes that he will find Delmar Berry, his friend and brother in combat, who with Rambo is one of the two last surviving members of an elite unit that served in Vietnam, specializing in the use of guerrilla tactics “to dispose of enemy personnel,” that is, to kill.

Rambo is met by Delmar’s mother, who is Black, and the only female character in the film with lines. Mrs. Berry tersely tells Rambo that Delmar died from cancer, which she attributes to Agent Orange. (The chemical, one notes, is an apt metaphor for how trauma affects its victim years after the original exposure.) Upon learning this news, Rambo’s smile vanishes and he adopts an impassive expression that suggests emotional numbness and desolation. I am not the first commentator to point out the “positive symptoms” of Rambo’s PTSD (e.g., flashbacks, nightmares, and disturbances in cognition and affect), but what we see in this early scene are the “negative” symptoms of PTSD, including hypo-arousal and dissociation from the external environment. Rambo walks on to the next town as if in a dream, like the one he says “I can’t get it out of my head. A dream of seven years. Every day I have this.” There he encounters Sheriff Teasle, played by Brian Dennehy (1938-2020). The sheriff perceives Rambo as a drifter and “kindly” offers him a ride to the next town.

The encounter between these two men sets the plot of First Blood in motion, the tragic elements of which are explored further in the next section of this essay. Suffice it to say that the treatment of Rambo at the hands of police in this small, quiet town, constitutes physical torture, which triggers flashbacks to his experience as a prisoner of war (POW) captured by the Vietcong. His fight-or-

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flight response activated, and unstoppable due to his disproportionate training in comparison to the modest capacities of the town’s police force, Rambo flees into the woods and wages a violent guerilla campaign of attrition. Sheriff Teasle pursues Rambo further, and in so doing his officers suffer increasing casualties (although Rambo takes pains to maim rather than kill them).

Rambo, who we later learn is not only traumatized but unable to reintegrate in society or function in even basic occupations, reverts to the one thing he knows how to do: survive and fight. Like many survivors of trauma, he utilizes coping strategies he learned in the past even though they are likely no longer appropriate or helpful in the present. The full display of his powers, which culminates in him destroying the sleepy town with improvised explosives and automatic gunfire, informs the audience that the person who cries at the end of the film and ultimately engages in help-seeking behavior is no “weakling,” but a hero.

The Element of Tragedy

The sheriff says, “Me! The Law! People start f****** around with the Law then all Hell breaks loose.” Perhaps the best way to have a meaningful experience while viewing the film First Blood is to apply the proverb, “Take what you need and leave the rest.” Yes, there are extended car and motorcycle chases. Yes, Rambo performs implausible acts, such as jumping off a cliff from a height of about 80 feet and breaking his fall through the boughs of an evergreen. But if the viewer takes the action scenes for what they’re worth, what remains is a portrait of the tragic elements of the human condition. This accomplishment is attributable in no small part to the acting of Brian Dennehy as the multidimensional Sherriff Teasle.

In addition to being a film actor memorable for his domineering personalities, Dennehy was also an actor on stage, especially at Chicago’s Goodman Theater, performing Shakespeare, Samuel Beckett, and Eugene O’Neill. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his depiction of Sheriff Teasle has a striking parallel to two Shakespearian kings who were brought down by their hubris, or excessive pride. Like King Lear, Teasle is driven to functional madness by his own anger for Rambo, unable to recognize Rambo’s invincibility. Like Prince Hamlet’s father, at least symbolically, Teasle suffers a wound below his ear; he fails to listen to the warnings from the few characters who recognize Rambo’s godlike powers and urge him to surrender and ask for help.

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Furthermore, the plot of First Blood bears an uncanny resemblance to the ancient Greek tragedy The Bacchae (c. 480-c. 406 BC) by Euripides. In this story, the god Dionysus suddenly arrives at the kingdom of Thebes unannounced and disguised as a mortal. King Pentheus underestimates this outsider, mocks him, and briefly imprisons him. Similarly, Sheriff Teasle calls Rambo a “drifter” and “vagrant” and brings him to jail where he is subsequently brutalized by police. Moreover, just as Sheriff Teasle initiates his own downfall by chasing Rambo into the forest where Rambo can enact guerrilla warfare, Pentheus goes into the woods to spy on Dionysus. There, however, he encounters the frenzied Maenads, initiates in the cult of Dionysus, who proceed to tear Pentheus apart physically, limb from limb, which is not unlike Teasle’s fate.

Unlike Rambo, who is homeless and can’t hold a job, Sherriff Teasle has reintegrated into society psychosocially and lives a pleasant life. For him, everything is about control. Without control, “all hell breaks loose,” that is, the Dionysiac or chaotic elements of human nature might be set free. Teasle presents with a trait found in some trauma survivors: He represses emotions and resists becoming even a little bit emotional should it lead to him losing control—he is hoping they stay shut.

Another element of his personality, which is congruent with his preoccupation with control, is his obsession with cleanliness. In an early scene, he goes out of his way to ask a miner with coal dust on his arm, “You gonna take a bath this week?” This fixation on cleanliness is then transferred to Rambo. Teasle books him on a charge of vagrancy, concealed possession of a large knife, and resisting arrest. He tells his subordinates to “clean him up,” adding “he smells like an animal.” In Teasle’s mind, he is keeping order, but he has just dehumanized Rambo, opening him up to brutality at the hands of other officers. One can’t help but notice that the Black man Jacob Blake was shot on August 23, 2020, seven times in Kenosha, Wisconsin, when he opened his car door; one of the justifications for which was that he might have had a knife on him, far less than even Rambo was booked for.

Unexpected Politics

In the movie Colonel Sam Trautman declares that Rambo “trusts me. See, I’m the closest thing to family that he has left, and that may be all the edge I need.” Images of Donald Trump depicted as Rambo have circulated among his supporters since the 2016 presidential campaign. One can purchase a 3X6 flag of Trump-as-

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Rambo for less than $7 on a major online retailer, which shows Trump wearing a headband and carrying a grenade launcher with veiny, bulging muscles. Indeed, some supporters of the 45^th president believe he has god or Rambo-like powers, capable of surmounting the “deep state,” “fake news,” and the “radical left” in a way no other leader can. The gripping irony of this association between Trump and Rambo is that First Blood provides a sharp critique of both law and order and the culture of impunity endemic to many police forces. Rambo rights these wrongs by destroying the town’s police station, which provides considerable emotional catharsis to the viewer. How is it, then, that so many viewers who support Trump fail to understand why citizens in Minneapolis might want to destroy their local police station? The simplest answer, besides the possibility that viewers haven’t thought seriously about the movie, is race.

Let’s go back to the opening scene of the film, where Rambo visits the home of Delmar, his Black friend and last semblance of family. Following this scene, Rambo is essentially treated like a Black man. He walks along the road, committing no crime, and is harassed by police. It quickly escalates to a life-or-death situation due to Sheriff Teasle’s obsessive need for control. Rambo is brought into the police station and subjected to physical abuse. One officer is particularly sadistic. Although even other officers are upset by his behavior, none of them hold him accountable, acting as bystanders.

This fictional office is reminiscent of John Burge (1947-2018), a former detective and commander in the Chicago Police Department until 1991. It came to light that he forced confessions out of at least 200 innocent individuals, largely Black men, through methods of torture including suffocation, burning, and repeatedly placing an electric cattle prod on victims’ testicles. It took years to bring Burge to justice, and this event itself is likely an outlier. All too often, justice is not achieved. Emotional catharsis does not
occur. Wounds stay open, and the trauma is passed to the next
generation.

This is the tragic element of Rambo: He did not pick this fight, the police drew “first blood.” And this is the tragic element of racism in the United States: Whites drew first blood, but Blacks must suffer the primary consequences of racism. Promises of reform ring increasingly hollow and calls are made for defunding the police. Perhaps Rambo, in this sense, can serve as a lesson to

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people, who on the one hand cannot understand the anti-police sentiment, and on the other hand, have already bought into the
character of Rambo and what he represents.

At any rate, the film concludes with one more implausible flourish: Rambo is brought peacefully into custody following a therapeutic encounter with Colonel Trautman. Trautman provides Rambo the one thing nobody had given him since he returned from Vietnam and is a lesson in PTSD first-aid: Trautman listens. He provides a safe space for John to describe, in detail, how he has flashbacks of his friend blowing up next to him. In a highly emotional scene, Stallone describes trying to put the literal pieces of his friend “back together.” He describes being looked down upon by civilians and being unable to function in society. He describes how he goes days at a time without talking to another human being,
experiencing profound alienation. Rambo is allowed to break down and cry, unleashing all the emotion beneath his stoic veneer. He falls into the arms of the father-figure, Colonel Trautman, and is held like a baby, ready to start a new life.

When Trautman and Rambo walk out of the destroyed police station, Rambo wears handcuffs, but he is treated with respect and given space by all the police. Rambo’s face looks serene. He’s not dissociated, angry, scared, or upset. Rather, he’s emotionally self-regulated, which is what we want from good
trauma treatment, and what we cannot get so long as society looks away and fails to take notice.

The way these events unfold seems to imply that it is not just the military at fault for Rambo’s PTSD, nor is it the police officers, but everyday Americans who refuse to make a home for people like him. This inhospitable attitude is driven by a desire for law, order, cleanliness, and control. It is driven by a lack of understanding and empathy. It drives the increased social alienation of people already marginalized by society. What perpetuates trauma, in addition to violence, injustice, and stigma, is the attitude known as “not in my back yard,” the belief that one is better than another human being because they are housed elsewhere. The ancient Greeks called it hubris. Rambo blows all that up.

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