Breaking down 'Ride of the Valkyries' in 'Apocalypse Now' (2024)

A unique alchemy occurs when a movie sequence marries images with sound in such a way that the final result transcends its components, indelibly imprinting itself into the collective consciousness. One such instance of blissful cinematic elevation that has reverberated throughout history is the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ scene from the 1979 Francis Ford Coppola epic, Apocalypse Now.

The sequence, which ingeniously layers Richard Wagner’s operatic score with the throbbing pulse of war machinery, creates a mesmerising spectacle that’s simultaneously awe-inspiring and disturbing and ensures that Wagner will be irreversibly associated with the scene forevermore.

As many will know by now, Apocalypse Now is Vietnam War as interpreted through the lens of Joseph Conrad’s 1899 novella, Heart of Darkness. The story follows the journey of Captain Benjamin Willard (played by Martin Sheen), tasked with assassinating the rogue and seemingly insane Colonel Walter E. Kurtz, a character vividly brought to life by the incredible yet notoriously problematic Marlon Brando. The film’s portrayal of the Vietnam War, with its fusion of psychedelic 1960s counterculture and brutal warfare, became symbolic of the public’s disillusionment with the conflict – and nowhere is this dichotomy better represented than in the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ scene.

The sequence begins with Lieutenant Colonel Bill Kilgore, played by Coppola veteran Robert Duvall, a swaggering, cowboy hat-wearing air cavalry officer with a specific fondness for surfing. His squadron of helicopters is about to assault a Vietnamese village, but instead of the traditional military bugle or radio chatter to signal the attack, Kilgore opts for Wagner’s epic opera blaring from loudspeakers attached to the helicopters. As the helicopters sweep across the beaches, the grandiose score resonates over the sounds of rotor blades, gunfire, screams and explosions. It’s an orchestral assault on the senses, immersing the viewer in the intoxicating rush of power that comes from dominating the skies.

The helicopter’s approach is intercut with scenes of the villagers’ daily life, adding to the impending tragedy. Women are seen washing clothes and children playing, oblivious to the imminent attack. As the war machines near the village, the civilians look up in awe and terror, and at the apex of the scene, the helicopters begin their gratuitous attack. Explosions bloom amidst the village’s huts as Kilgore nonchalantly commands his forces, maintaining coolness throughout the destruction, which is depicted with a stark and unflinching honesty that leaves a profound impact. The music continues to play throughout this carnage, its soaring melody now tainted with the brutal reality of war.

It’s a sensational masterclass on how to forge an unforgettable cinematic experience – but it’s more than just a spectacle. As the great Roger Ebert astutely noted, “It does not say that war is hell. It says that war is insane.” Wagner’s opera score, the surreal backdrop of Vietnam’s beautiful landscape, and the horrifying spectacle of violence together present a striking commentary on the absurdity of war. This has been covered by the likes of Stanley Kubrick with Dr. Strangelove and the novels of Joseph Heller and Kurt Vonnegut, with their core ethos insisting that the barbarity of war, particularly in the modern age, is just flat-out inherently insane.

Through the masterful coupling of Wagner’s operatic crescendos with the piercing roar of the helicopters, Coppola elicits a purely sensory sense of wonder and horror that couldn’t be expressed through words. The act of using the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ is an audacious subversion, reframing a composition associated with mythical Norse heroism to underscore the catastrophic effects of a senseless war far removed from any romantic notion of ‘heroic action’.

In the hands of a lesser director, such a scene might appear overwrought, melodramatic and even tasteless. But with Coppola, the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ is a chilling portrayal of how something as innocuous as music can be transformed into a tool for psychological warfare and how man-made weaponry can reduce an innocent village into a hellish tableau of smoke and fire. It remains one of cinema’s most powerful celebrations of war’s grandeur and the most potent criticism of its devastating effects, serving as a testament to both Coppola’s visionary direction and the transformative power of music.

Even after over four decades, it continues to captivate and unsettle, and with countless references throughout our popular culture, it’s doubtful that the memory of the ‘Rise of the Valkyries’ scene will be forgotten anytime soon.

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