Author’s note: I’m getting crunched for time as the first Agent of C.A.R.D.S. story arc nears the end, so this entry is from an older blog post of mine. The comic and monthly tie-in film blog will go on hiatus after the conclusion of the comic story arc, but I plan to continue the “Old Tales and Modern Media” project on its usual schedule every few months whenever there is a fifth Wednesday.
In one sense, First Blood was a 1980s action movie and the start of a violent, escapist, popcorn genre franchise whose protagonist Rambo has — fairly or not — become synonymous in pop culture discourse with one-dimensional fighting prowess.
Another layer to this 1982 film that makes it more than a silly action movie, however, is its contemporary social commentary on police brutality, class prejudice, and the hardships suffered by Vietnam War veterans.
Even further beneath the surface, First Blood (directed by Ted Kotcheff and based on the novel by David Morrell) is a a twentieth century tribute to ancient archetypes such as sacred hospitality and — as it is with many other modern movies in the “picking on the wrong guy” genre — powerful beings in disguise among everyday people. Cultures all over the world have tales where gods, angels, nature spirits, human nobility, and other such extraordinary beings disguise themselves as ordinary beggars or vagabonds. If their mortal interlocutors treat them well in spite of their superficial appearance, they are rewarded for their good character. But if the mortals pick on these mysterious strangers — such as turning them away from hospitality or worse, outright attacking them — then the full wrath of supernatural power rains down on them.
In the ancient Greek hospitality concept of xenia, there was a reverence to taking in strangers for shelter because there was always a possibility that they could be gods in disguise. Similarly, in the New Testament scriptures, Christians were advised that in showing kindness to strangers, one could be “entertaining angels unawares” (Hebrews 13:2).
Hospitality was a huge deal in the ancient world where it was essential for survival. Hosts were expected to welcome and protect travelers so they didn’t die of exposure, get attacked by criminals at night, or suffer hunger. Obviously, they were not to attack or take advantage of their guests. In return, guests were also not to steal from, attack, or otherwise take advantage of their host in any way. Following these rules brought honor, and conversely, any violation of that social trust on either end was severely punished.
In the book of Genesis chapters 18-19, the ancient Biblical cities of Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed fire-and-brimstone style after the townspeople tried to attack Lot’s angelic guests, and after a general track record of arrogance and refusal to help the poor and needy (Ezekiel 16:49-50). Other sources, such as Talmudic and Midrashic writings, spell out specific atrocities straight out of a horror movie. Sodom would fulfill some of the technical obligations of charity and hospitality by giving travelers a standard-sized bed, but then chopped off the visitors’ feet if they were too tall for the bed. Also, if a citizen violently attacked his neighbor, the victim was punished for bleeding (first blood, if you will). In one of these accounts, a traveler swam across the river not realizing it was forbidden to avoid a toll this way, was beaten by the local guards, and then ordered by the judge to pay the people who wounded him on the excuse that “bloodletting” was beneficial. One of Lot’s daughters was burned on a pyre for secretly helping a beggar, and another young woman caught helping a poor man was stripped naked, daubed with honey, and killed by swarms of bees.
The ancient fear of taking in a violent guest, or — more commonly — being taken in by a violent host, runs deep through many modern-day horror and thriller films such as Get Out (2017), Misery (1990), The Human Centipede (2009), and of course Hostel (2005).
Obviously, in modern-day USA, hospitality is different. Well-regulated commercial restaurants and motels exist for travelers who don’t know anyone locally to eat or stay with, laws and law enforcement discourage violent crime between business owners and customers, civil rights laws forbid discrimination against guests on the basis of protected traits, and police may assist indigent travelers with lodging or shelter as part of their job.
For the inciting incident of First Blood, the mysterious visitor John Rambo (Sylvester Stallone) isn’t asking much. He only wants to be left alone and exercise his legal right to go to a local restaurant while passing through a small town in Washington state — just like Lot’s angelic guests already had a host, and only needed to be left alone. (The Biblical Lot himself… had his own problems… but the that is outside the scope of this article as there is no equivalent situation in First Blood.)
The audience is aware Rambo is a Vietnam veteran traveling on foot after learning the fate of one of his combat buddies. But to the arrogant local sheriff Will Teasle (Brian Dennehy), Rambo is just a rough-looking vagrant who spoils the image of the community by his mere presence.
Teasle feigns technical hospitality, offering to drive Rambo closer to his destination, only to reject his request to be taken to a diner and ditch him on the outskirts of town. Undeterred, Rambo just starts walking back toward the town so he can get a bite to eat. The infuriated Teasle then arrests him and brings him to the local jail to be beaten by several other officers — thus further escalating his hospitality violation and role as protector and host.
Rambo more than holds up his end of the deal as a guest: being polite and nonviolent, stoically asserting his civil liberties, and only starting to fight back when he has a PTSD flashback of being similarly tortured in Vietnam.
Pursued into the deep forest, Rambo displays his impressive wilderness survival skills, covers himself in greenery, and warns Teasle to drop the attack in a scene that brings up the archetype of the dangerous nature spirit:
Major spoilers below
But like a tragic and foolishly arrogant character type in Greek myth, Teasle insists on escalating the manhunt to save his own ego. His character flaw of hubris extends to the point of openly disobeying and trying to outmatch the gods themselves, as shown when he defies the warning of Colonel Trautman (Richard Crenna) that Rambo is not only a soldier, but a very dangerous Green Beret, Medal of Honor winner, and war hero — and thus Teasle’s attempts to harm him not only go against decency, but invite death for Teasle and his men.
Extreme hospitality violations against hapless ordinary people are the subject of horror movies. When the mysterious stranger being attacked is an extraordinary being who can turn the horror back on the attackers, you get an action movie.
Like many films following the Hero’s Journey, First Blood pays homage to another mythic trope at the end of the second act when local National Guard troops blow up the mine entrance Rambo hides in, seemingly killing him. In this part of the myth, the hero journeys through the underworld — in Rambo’s case, making his way through the watery, rat-infested, abandoned subterranean tunnel.
And from there, he makes his way back to the town for the explosive fire-and-brimstone-like showdown against his attackers.
All together, these homages to ancient archetypes and myths tie in together with Rambo’s speech at the end and the movie’s more obvious modern-day themes to deliver an indictment against contemporary inhospitality, callousness, ingratitude, and abuse of power — not only against strangers and the poor, but against Vietnam War veterans returning to their own home country.
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