Full Metal Jacket

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Full Metal Jacket is a 1987 film that follows a group of recruits through Marine training and their tour of duty in Vietnam.

Written and directed by Stanley Kubrick, based on the novel The Short-Timers by Gustav Hasford.
In Vietnam, the wind doesn't blow. It sucks. taglines

Private Joker[edit]

  • Is that you John Wayne? Is this me?
  • [narrating] Graduation is only a few days away and the recruits of Platoon 3092 are salty. They are ready to eat their own guts and ask for seconds. The drill instructors are proud to see that we are growing beyond their control. The Marine Corps does not want robots. The Marine Corps wants killers. The Marine Corps wants to build indestructible men, men without fear.
  • The dead know only one thing: It is better to be alive.
  • [narrating] We have nailed our names in the pages of history, enough for today. We hump down to the perfume river to set in for the night. [the Marines sing "The Mickey Mouse Club" theme song.] My thoughts drift back to erect-nipple wet dreams about Mary Jane Rottencrotch and the Great Homecoming Fuck Fantasy. I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of shit. Yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman[edit]

  • If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training, you will be a weapon. You will be a minister of death praying for war. But until that day, you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human fucking beings! You are nothing but unorganized grabastic pieces of amphibian shit! Because I am hard, you will not like me! But the more you hate me, the more you will learn! I am hard, but I am fair! There is no racial bigotry here. I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops, or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless. And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved corps. Do you maggots understand that?
  • [to Private Snowball] What's your name, scumbag? [Private Snowball: Sir, Private Brown, sir!] Bullshit! From now on, you're Private Snowball. Do you like that name? [Private Snowball: Sir, yes, sir!] Well, there's one thing that you won't like, Private Snowball; They don't serve fried chicken and watermelon on a daily basis in my mess hall. [Private Snowball: Sir, yes, sir!]
  • [Private Joker: [imitating John Wayne] Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?] Who said that? WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?! Who's the slimy little communist shit, twinkle-toed cocksucker down here who just signed his own death warrant?! Nobody, huh? The fairy fucking godmother said it. Out-fucking-standing. I will PT you all until you fucking DIE! I'll PT you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk!
  • [to Private Joker] Well, no shit. What have we got here? A fucking comedian, Private Joker. I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house and fuck my sister. [socks Joker in the gut] You little scumbag! I got your name! I got your ass! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by the numbers! I will teach you! Now get up! Get on your feet! You had best un-fuck yourself or I will unscrew your head and shit down your NECK!
  • [to Private Lawrence] Did your parents have any children that lived? [Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir!] I bet they regret that. You’re so ugly you can be a modern art masterpiece! What’s your name fat body? [Gomer Pyle: Sir, Leonard Lawrence, sir!] Lawrence? Lawrence what? Of Arabia? [Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!] That name sounds like royalty. Are you royalty? [Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!] Do you suck dicks? [Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!] Bullshit! I bet you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose. [Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!] I don’t like the name Lawrence, only faggots and sailors are called Lawrence. From now on you’re Gomer Pyle.
  • [to Private Lawrence who was unable to do pull-ups] Do you mean to tell me that you cannot do one single pull-up?! You are a worthless piece of shit, Pyle! Get out of my face!
  • [to Private Lawrence from the top of an obstacle] Get up here, fat boy! Quickly! Move it on! Move it on, Pyle! Move it on! You climb obstacles like old people fuck. Do you know that, Private Pyle? Get up here; you're too slow! Move it, move it! Private Pyle, whatever you do, don't fall down! That would break my fucking heart! [Lawrence reaches the top] Quickly! Up and over! Up and over! Well what in the fuck are you waiting for, Private Pyle?! Get up and over! Move it! Move it! Move it! Are you quitting on me?! Well, are you?! Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off of my obstacle! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle! NOW! Move it! [Lawrence crawls down] I'm gonna rip your balls off so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world! I will motivate you, Private Pyle, if it short-dicks every cannibal on the Congo!
  • The deadliest weapon in the world is a Marine and his rifle. It is your killer instinct which must be harnessed if you expect to survive in combat. Your rifle is only a tool. It is a hard heart that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong, you will hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not kill. You will become dead Marines. And then you will be in a world of shit. Because Marines are not allowed to die without permission! Do you maggots understand? [Recruits: Sir, yes, sir!]
  • [after he and the recruits sing "Happy Birthday" to Jesus Christ] Today is Christmas! There will be a magic show at 0930! (9:30 A.M.) Chaplain Charlie will tell you about how the free world will conquer Communism with the aid of God and a few Marines! God has a hard-on for Marines because we kill everything we see! He plays His games, we play ours! To show our appreciation for so much power, we keep Heaven packed with fresh souls! God was here before the Marine Corps! So you can give your heart to Jesus, but your ass belongs to the Corps! Do you ladies understand? [Recruits: Sir, yes, sir!]
  • Today, you people are no longer maggots. Today, you are Marines. You're part of a brotherhood. From now on, until the day you die, wherever you are, every Marine is your brother. Most of you will go to Vietnam. Some of you will not come back. But always remember this: Marines die. That's what we're here for. But the Marine Corps lives forever and that means you live forever.

Crazy Earl[edit]

  • These are great days we're living, bros. We are jolly green giants, walking the Earth with guns. These people we wasted here today are the finest human beings we will ever know. After we rotate back to the world, we're gonna miss not having anyone around that's worth shooting.


Hartman: What’s your excuse!
Cowboy: Sir, excuse for what, sir?!
Hartman: I’m asking the fucking questions here, Private! Do you understand?
Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir.
Hartman: Well, thank you, very much. Can I be in charge for a while?
Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir.
Hartman: Are you shook up, are you nervous?
Cowboy: Sir, I am sir.
Hartman: Do I make you nervous?
Cowboy: Sir!
Hartman: "Sir" what? Were you about to call me an asshole?!
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir.
Hartman: How tall are you, Private?
Cowboy: 5’9" sir.
Hartman: 5’9"? I didn’t know they stacked shit that high! You trying to squeeze an inch in on me somewhere, huh?!
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Bullshit! It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress! I think you’ve been cheated. Where in the Hell are you from anyway, Private?
Cowboy: Sir, Texas, sir!
Hartman: Holy dogshit! Texas? Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy, and you don’t much look like a steer to me, so that kinda narrows it down. Do you suck dicks?!
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Are you a Peter puffer?!
Cowboy: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: I’ll bet you're the kinda guy that would fuck a person in the ass, and not even have the Goddamn common courtesy to give him a reach-around. I'll be watching you.

Hartman: Left shoulder, hut! [Lawrence briefly hikes his rifle to his right shoulder, but corrects himself though Hartman notices and realizes what has happened] Private Pyle, what are you trying to do to my beloved Corps?!
Lawrence: Sir, I don't know, sir!
Hartman: You are dumb, Private Pyle, but do you expect me to believe that you don't know left from right?!
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Then you did that on purpose! You wanna be different!
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: [slaps Private Lawrence's left cheek] What side was that, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, left side, sir!
Hartman: Are you sure, Private Pyle?!
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: [slaps Private Lawrence's right cheek; knocking his cover in the process] What side was that, Private Pyle?!
Lawrence: [about to fall apart] Sir, right side, sir!
Hartman: Don't fuck with me again, Pyle! Pick up your fuckin' cover.
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman: Tonight, you pukes will sleep with your rifles. You are going to give your rifle a girl's name, because this is the only pussy you people are going to get. Your days of finger-banging ol' Mary Jane Rottencrotch through her purty pink panties are over! You're married to this piece. This weapon of iron and wood. And you will be faithful! Port, hut! [Recruits grab their rifles] Prepare to mount! [Recruits step back towards their bunks.] Mount! [Recruits quickly hop onto their bunks] Port, hut! [Recruits grab their rifles and hold them up] Pray!
Recruits: [simultaneously] This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. Before God I swear this creed: My rifle and myself are defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen.
Hartman: Order, hut! [Recruits lay their rifles at their sides] At ease! [He turns the barrack lights off] Good night, ladies.
Recruits: Good night, sir!
Hartman: [to Night Watchman] Hit it, sweetheart.
Night Watchman: Sir, aye-aye, sir!

Hartman: Next two privates, go! Quickly! [To Lawrence as he struggles with an obstacle at the beginning of an obstacle course] Get your fat ass over there, Private Pyle. Oh, that's right, Private Pyle. Don't make any fucking effort to get up to the top of the fucking obstacle! If God wanted you up there, He would've miracled your ass up there by now, wouldn't he?
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Get your fat ass up there, Pyle!
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: What the hell is the matter with you anyway? I'll bet you if there was some pussy up there on top of that obstacle...
Lawrence: [falling off again] Shit!
Hartman: ...You could get up there. Couldn't you?
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Your ass looks like about 150 pounds of chewed bubble gum, Pyle. You know that?
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!

Hartman: Trim 'em. Toe jam. Pop that blister. [discovers that Lawrence had his footlocker unlocked during inspection] Jesus H. Christ. Private Pyle! WHY is your footlocker unlocked?
Lawrence: Sir, I don't know, sir!
Hartman: Private Pyle, if there is one thing in this world that I hate, it is a unlocked footlocker, you know that, don't you?!
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: If it wasn't for dickheads like you, there wouldn't be any thievery in this world, would there?!
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: GET DOWN!
[Lawrence steps down from the footlocker box. Hartman opens the cover with a bang]
Hartman: Well, now! Let's just see if there's anything missing! [Hartman angrily begins rummaging through the box, then freezes as he finds a jelly doughnut] Holy Jesus. What is that? What the fuck is that? [He picks the doughnut up with thumb and forefinger of his right hand, and holds it up to Lawrence] WHAT IS THAT, PRIVATE PYLE?!
Lawrence: Sir, a jelly doughnut, sir!
Hartman: A jelly doughnut?!
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: How did it get here?
Lawrence: Sir, I took it from the mess hall, sir!
Hartman: Is chow allowed in the barracks, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Are you allowed to eat jelly doughnuts, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, no, sir!
Hartman: Then why not, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, because I'm too heavy, sir!
Hartman: Because you are a disgusting fat body, Private Pyle!
Lawrence: Sir, yes, sir!
Hartman: Then why did you hide a jelly doughnut in your footlocker, Private Pyle?
Lawrence: Sir, because I was hungry, sir!
Hartman: Because you were hungry? [after Lawrence admits hiding a jelly doughnut due to being hungry; Hartman turns and walks down the line of recruits, still holding the doughnut] Private Pyle has dishonored himself and dishonored the platoon! I have tried to help him, but I have failed! I have failed because you have not helped me! You people have not given Private Pyle the proper motivation! [turns round and marches back the way he has come] So, from now on, whenever Private Pyle fucks up, I will not punish him! I will punish all of you! And the way I see it, ladies, you owe me for one jelly doughnut! Now get on your faces! [to Lawrence] Open your mouth! [Lawrence does so and Hartman shoves the doughnut into his mouth] They're payin' for it, you eat it! [to recruits] Ready, exercise!
Recruits beside Pyle: [doing push-ups] 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! 1-2-3-4! I love Marine Corps! 1-2-3-4!

Hartman: [referring to Lee Harvey Oswald and Charles Whitman] Do any of you people know where these individuals learned how to shoot? [Joker raises his hand] Private Joker?
Joker: [stands up] Sir, in the Marines, sir!
Hartman: [impressed] In the Marines! Outstanding! Those individuals showed what one motivated Marine and his rifle can do! And before you ladies leave my island, you will all be able to do the same thing!

Joker: [narrating] Our last night on the island. I draw fire watch.
[Joker goes into the head to find Private Lawrence sitting on a toilet, loading his rifle]
Lawrence: [eerily] Hiii... Joker.
[Lawrence loads the bullets into the magazine as Joker turns off his flashlight]
Joker: [alarmed] Are those... live rounds?
Lawrence: 7.62 millimeter... [loads another bullet into the magazine] Full Metal Jacket.
Joker: [shaken and worried] Leonard... if Hartman comes in here and catches us... we'll both be in a world of shit.
Lawrence: I AM... in a world... of shit! [loads the last bullet into the magazine and begins drilling loudly] Left shoulder, hut! Right shoulder, hut! Lock and load! [picks up the loaded magazine and inserts it into the rifle] Order, hut! [smartly brings the rifle down to the "order arms" position] This is my rifle! There are many like it but this one is mine! My rifle is my best friend! It is my life!
Hartman: [storms out of his bedroom; angrily, to the other recruits, who have gotten out of bed to see what the noise is] Get back in your bunks!
Lawrence: I must master it as I must master my life!
Hartman: [storms into the head] What is this Mickey Mouse shit?! What in the name of Jesus H. Christ are you animals doing in my head?! Why is Private Pyle out of his bunk after lights out?! Why is Private Pyle holding that weapon?! [to Joker] Why aren't you stomping Private Pyle's guts out?!
Joker: Sir, it is the private's duty to inform the senior drill instructor that Private Pyle has a full magazine, and is locked and loaded, sir!
Hartman: [to Lawrence; slowly, quietly and strictly] Now you listen to me, Private Pyle. And you listen good. I want that weapon. And I want it now. You will place that rifle on the deck at your feet... and step back away from it.
[Lawrence insanely and eerily smiles, breathing heavily, aiming the rifle at Hartman.]
[Lawrence shoots and kills Hartman, then aims at Joker.]
Joker: [trembled nervously] Easy, Leonard. Go easy, man.
[Lawrence eases off of Joker, sits back down on the toilet, and puts the rifle's muzzle in his own mouth.]
Joker: [alarmed] NO!!!!
[Lawrence shoots himself and blood splatters on the wall behind him]

Da Nang Hooker: Hey, baby. You got girlfriend Vietnam?
Joker: Not just this minute.
Hooker: Well, baby, me so horny. Me so horny! Me love you long time. You party?
Joker: Yeah, we might party. How much?

[Helicopter Door Gunner opens fire, and Rafterman is uncomfortably nauseous]
Door Gunner: Get some! Get some! [continues firing] Get some! Get some! Yeah! Yeah! Get some! Get some! Come on! Come on! [continues firing] Get some! [continues firing] Ha-ha! Get some, baby! Get some! Get some! Get some! Get some! Get some! Come on! Get it! Come on! Get some! Get some! Yeah-yeah-yeah! I've got you, mother! [stops firing] Ha-ha! [looks at Joker and Raftman] Anyone who runs is a VC! Anyone who stands still is a well-disciplined VC! [laughs] You guys oughta do a story about me sometime!
Joker: Why should we do a story about you?!
Door Gunner: 'Cause I'm so fuckin' good! That ain't no shit, neither! I've done got me 157 dead gooks killed. And 50 water buffaloes, too! Them're all certified!
Joker: Any women or children?!
Door Gunner: Sometimes!
Joker: How can you shoot women and children?!
[Rafterman gags in disgust]
Door Gunner: Easy! You just don't lead 'em so much! [laughs] Ain't war Hell?

Colonel: Marine, what is that button on your body armor?
Joker: A peace symbol, sir.
Colonel: Where'd you get it?
Joker: I don't remember, sir.
Colonel: What is that you've got written on your helmet?
Joker: "Born to kill", sir.
Colonel: You write "born to kill" on your helmet, and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?
Joker: No, sir.
Colonel: What is it supposed to mean?
Joker: I don't know, sir.
Colonel: You don't know very much, do you?
Joker: No, sir.
Colonel: You better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant shit on you!
Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel: Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man!
Joker: I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.
Colonel: The what?
Joker: The duality of man; The Jungian thing, sir.
Colonel: Whose side are you on, son?
Joker: Our side, sir.
Colonel: Don't you love your country?
Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel: Then how 'bout getting with the program? Why don't you jump on the team and come on in for the big win?
Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel: Son, all I've ever asked of my Marines is for them to obey my orders as they would the word of God. We are here to help the Vietnamese, because inside every gook there is an American trying to get out. It's a hard-ball world, son. We've gotta try to keep our heads until this peace craze blows over!
Joker: [salutes] Aye-aye, sir.


  • In Vietnam, the wind doesn't blow. It sucks.
  • Vietnam can kill me, but it can't make me care.


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