You Can’t Handle Change
The film A Few Good Men (1992), directed by Rob Reiner and based on the Broadway play by Aaron Sorkin, attempts to be a scathing criticism of military authoritarianism and the ways those dehumanizing teachings manifest negatively. The film follows Navy lawyer Lieutenant Daniel Kaffee (Tom Cruise) as he defends two Marine officers who are accused of killing another soldier, William Santiago (Michael DeLorenzo), during a hazing ritual known as a “code red”. The case becomes a symbol of broader military corruption that spans through the chain of command and asks viewers to question where the line is drawn between military code and ethics.
After first watching the film, the political message the screenwriters were trying to portray is clear: The film critiques the toxic military obedience culture, abuse of power, and hierarchical-systemic failures that enable injustice within the navy. However, after a third watch I realized that A Few Good Men undermines its own critique. The film resolves its central conflict by assigning Kaffee as the hero who exposes the truth and secures justice. By assigning blame to a single “evil” individual and placing the main character in the role as a hero, the film suggests that justice depends more on personal morality than on system reform.
While storytelling is often needed to convey a greater message in film, A Few Good Men ultimately avoids a broader systemic analysis of the issues it presents by placing too much responsibility on its characters. Throughout the film, the ordered code red is primarily presented as a moral failing of a person: Colonel Jessup (Jack Nicholson). Jessup is an authoritarian leader, willing to sacrifice Santiago’s life for the sake of discipline and control. Yet, the film paints Jessup as a villain, presenting his actions as personal choice, not inevitability caused by the rigidness of military culture. The viewer is encouraged to antagonize Jessup instead of questioning what systems and expectations led him to believe that his actions were justified.
The climax of the film culminates in the famous courtroom confrontation between Kaffee and Jessup. In this scene, Kaffee gets Jessup to admit that he ordered the code red, drastically changing the trajectory of the trial for the two accused soldiers. This resolution is problematic because it implies that justice is achieved through the intervention of a single, morally courageous lawyer rather than through systemic reform. Kaffee’s success in the courtroom is not a result of exploiting a structural flaw in the navy but of his ability to outmaneuver the system and outsmart a high ranking officer. This perpetuates the idea that the military system is fundamentally justified and that they just need good people to be leaders. If people like Jessup are removed, the system can function as intended.
The film briefly touches on challenging the flaws in the navy’s hierarchical, authoritarian structure, but ultimately shifts the blame back on a single antagonist. In this sense, the film seems to suggest that the navy’s problems can be solved simply by replacing flawed leaders with better ones. Additionally, the film does not fully condemn the ideology of military authoritarianism, but instead critiques the methods employed. The infamous line, “You can’t handle the truth!” is framed as a necessary evil for maintaining national security.
The reason the film avoids an unconventional ending can be traced back to the socially acceptable standard that films are pressured to follow. Even outside of film, humans as creatures become anxious with uncertainty. We need a concrete person or source to pin negative thoughts and problems on. A good example is people who view religion as a mechanism for understanding and explaining existential uncertainties. This psychological phenomenon can also be applied to cinema, where viewers expect the traditional story components: a protagonist, an antagonist, a problem, and a resolution. If the film culminated into blaming the general military system as a whole instead of a specific person, viewers wouldn’t feel resolved or satisfied with the ending. Thus, the film ends up falling victim to the pressures of film criticism, and therefore weakening their core argument.
While A Few Good Men presents itself as a bold critique of blind obedience over ethical human judgement, its resolution ultimately undermines that critique. Because the film resolves its central conflict through the heroism of a singular defense attorney, it suggests that justice is a matter of personal morality and rare, morally courageous men rather than systemic reform. The narrative essentially argues that the system is not necessarily broken, but that it is corrupted by the wrong individuals. Jessup is punished while the system remains intact, suggesting that authoritarian structures can be acceptable as long as the “right” people are in power.
While the film has critically acclaimed actors and a unique plot driven by emotionally intense dialogue, its political message is ultimately diluted by its reliance on individual heroism. In avoiding a more direct system critique, A Few Good Men reinforces the very authoritarian logic that it attempts to condemn. By suggesting that justice can only be served if the right individual,like Kaffee, steps forward and removes morally unjust leaders, like Jessup, the film aligns with a conservative worldview that prioritizes order and authority over structural change.
Nicole Au is a sophomore at Columbia University double majoring in Psychology and Economics with a minor in Film & Media Studies. While a cinephile, she especially loves all movies starring Tom Hanks or Leonardo DiCaprio (and hates any film with Adam Driver).