The devil's in the details

It’s easy to forget how Jack Nicholson, now 87 years old, appearing publicly disheveled in recent photos and long retired from thespianism, took the cinema by storm in the 1970s: starting with his breakthrough performance in Easy Rider, the first of his five Academy Award acting nominations spanning six years, and culminating in an Oscar for One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest in 1976. In the middle of that spectacular run was his unforgettable portrayal as “Badass” Buddusky in Hal Ashby’s The Last Detail from 1973, a role the actor himself considered his best, rumor has it.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of The Last Detail, conducted last week, click here.

Buttressed by a stellar screenplay by Robert Towne boasting credible dialogue (The Last Detail was envelope-pushing for this era in its consistent use of profanity, with more use of the “F” word, spoken 65 times, than in any previous movie), based on Darryl Ponicsan's novel of the same name, the movie co-stars Randy Quaid as young sailor Larry Meadows and Otis Young as Richard "Mule" Mulhall. The yarn follows two U.S. Navy petty officers (Buddusky and Mulhall) assigned to escort Meadows to a naval prison after he is sentenced to eight years for attempting to steal $40 from a charity collection box. During their journey, the officers form a bond with the shy and naive Meadows, deciding to show him a good time before the hammer falls. The story blends humor and camaraderie with poignant reflections on authority, freedom, and the injustices of life. It’s a film that neatly fits into several different genres, including the road movie, the buddy picture, the dramedy, the iconoclastic anti-hero film, and the broader social commentary/criticism movie.

Consider what usually happens to characters by the end of a road movie. They typically undergo an internal transformation or develop toward a better or improved life during the journey and before reaching their destination. However, in The Last Detail, the main protagonists realize that reaching their destination is anticlimactic and soul-squelching, as it results in Meadows’ ultimate incarceration and Buddusky and Mulhall returning to their drab lives in the military.

In the Indicator/Powerhouse Blu-Ray edition of this film, essayist Michael Pattison wrote: “We really told that son of a bitch, though, didn’t we!’ Buddusky cries, a little too self-convinced, after he and Mulhall achieve a muted triumph over the lieutenant who registers Meadows at Portsmouth. As both men go their separate ways, however, Buddusky’s claim rings false: Mulhall’s promise that they’ll see each other again in Norfolk only underlines their final resignation. To be a lifer, here, is to advance from an already compromised position. Meaningful attachments to Meadows or not, these men are bound by the duties of self-preservation.”

Savvy filmic techniques emphasize the tonal pessimism prevalent in The Last Detail, including drab tones, washed-out colors, and an abundance of blacks and greys. A significant portion of the movie consists of scenes of watching, waiting, and standing around, evoking the sense that these characters’ lives are not progressing. Tight shots create a constricted, claustrophobic effect. The biting irony of using the military drum march in the opening credits and the Anchors Aweigh melody at the end of the film is also notable, as these are meant to be stirring pieces of music intended to reflect an honorable and proud military tradition; yet our three sailors certainly don’t represent that.

The Last Detail is ultimately a cogitation on the futility of rebellion against systems of authority. Buddusky embodies the anti-authoritarian attitude of the 1960s and 1970s, continuously challenging the limitations set by the Navy as well as societal expectations. His actions mirror a broader cultural dissatisfaction with rigid institutions and hierarchies. However, despite Buddusky and Mulhall’s attempts to offer Meadows moments of freedom and joy before his confinement, their efforts ultimately seem pointless, as the system they resist is too powerful and entrenched for any real change. Despite their indulgent distractions and attempts to literally and figuratively de-virginize Meadows, they and he cannot escape the realization that the boy’s fate is unavoidable, that his immutably vulnerable nature—the thing that endears the older men to him—will inevitably cause him to suffer all the more in a cruel world that chews up and spits out souls like Meadows.

Loss of personal freedom is both text and subtext here. The film examines how societal norms and institutional power diminish individual liberty. The characters are constrained by military rules and societal pressures, with Meadows’ imprisonment symbolizing a larger theme of both physical and emotional confinement. Ashby and his collaborators are reminding us that life itself can be a prison—a jail of our own making. By adhering to society’s rules, we keep ourselves spiritually caged. Being a prisoner of these societal conventions and institutional rules is isolating. By the end of the picture, all three characters are isolated, alienated figures. The oppressive nature of institutions is also evident: The military is portrayed as a cold, bureaucratic force that values rules over the well-being of individuals. This theme also critiques other societal systems that prioritize order and structure at the expense of personal dignity.

And yet, you could argue that the film suggests these restrictive rules and institutions are necessary to keep us in check from our basest instincts and to prevent us from becoming lawless, boundless Budduskys. Consider that the repressive institutions that Nicholson’s characters rebelled against in the 1970s may be corrupt, restrictive, or damaging, but they are necessary evils for society to function properly.

A fascinating psychological triangle emerges with this pairing. The three main characters can be seen as complementing and contrasting each other in psychological ways, particularly when explored through Freudian terms. They may represent the id, the ego, and the superego, with Meadows caught between the base instincts and impulsive nature of Buddusky (the id) and the moral conscience and sense of responsibility embodied by Mulhall (the superego).

Revisiting The Last Detail, there’s an inescapable sense that time is quickly running out. Recall how Meadows must decide swiftly who to choose at the brothel. When he believes he’s falling in love with his prostitute, the camera lingers on Meadows, as if urging him to speak up quickly before the moment slips away. And consider how the gathering darkness approaches rapidly in the penultimate scene in the snowy park. When Meadows attempts to escape, the audience holds its breath, wondering if Buddusky will load his gun in time.

Similar works

• On the Town (1949), also about three sailors on a brief shore leave who are determined to make the most of their time in the big city.
• Slaughterhouse-Five (1972), an adaptation of Kurt Vonnegut's novel that critiques war and authority, blending dark humor with existential themes.
• One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975), which shares an anti-authoritarian vibe and a charismatic central performance by Jack Nicholson, similar to The Last Detail.
• Road movies by Alexander Payne, including Sideways (2004), Nebraska (2013), and The Holdovers (2023).

Other films by Hal Ashby

• The Landlord (1970)
• Harold and Maude (1971)
• The Last Detail (1973)
• Shampoo (1975)
• Bound for Glory (1976)
• Coming Home (1978)
• Being There (1979)