MAS*H (1970)

Introduction: War is Hell—So Why Not Laugh?

Released at the height of the Vietnam War, MASH* (Mobile Army Surgical Hospital) appeared to be a film about Korea, but its chaotic, subversive tone clearly resonated with a nation deeply disillusioned by its ongoing conflict in Southeast Asia. More than just a war film, MASH* is a sprawling, anarchic black comedy that weaponizes irreverence and satire to critique authority, bureaucracy, and the absurdity of military life.

Directed by Robert Altman, this film marked a turning point in American cinema. It defied narrative conventions, introduced a new kind of ensemble storytelling, and captured the messy, contradictory spirit of its time.

Plot Summary

Set during the Korean War, MASH* follows a group of iconoclastic Army surgeons stationed at the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital. The central figures—Hawkeye Pierce (Donald Sutherland), Trapper John (Elliott Gould), and Duke Forrest (Tom Skerritt)—are brilliant surgeons and relentless pranksters. They deal with the horrors of war not through nobility or valour but through gallows humour, casual sex, heavy drinking, and a constant defiance of military protocol.

They torment their superiors (especially the uptight, religious Major Frank Burns, played by Robert Duvall, and the prim and proper Major “Hot Lips” Houlihan, played by Sally Kellerman), organize a scandalous football game, and orchestrate elaborate practical jokes—all while patching up soldiers with astonishing speed and competence.

What emerges isn’t a traditional war story but a collage of moments, both comedic and poignant, that reflect the randomness and insanity of war itself.

Themes

Absurdity of War

Rather than depict the battlefield, MASH* focuses on the consequences of war—the endless wounded, the spiritual erosion, the mental toll. The laughter is manic, often inappropriate, but always a coping mechanism. War here isn’t hell in the mythic sense—it’s a bureaucratic circus, and surviving it often means mocking it.

Anti-Authoritarianism

The film skewers military hierarchy with near-constant irreverence. Hawkeye and Trapper flaunt rules, mock superiors, and subvert traditional ideas of masculinity and heroism. It’s no surprise that their targets—Frank Burns and Hot Lips—are often portrayed as humourless and hypocritical.

Masculinity and Sexual Politics

MASH* is undeniably a product of its time—and this is both its strength and its most controversial legacy. The film’s attitude toward women, especially in the treatment of Major Houlihan, has drawn criticism for its crude, at times cruel, humour. However, it also reflects the chaotic shifting of gender norms during the late 1960s, capturing the toxic and transformative intersections of war, gender, and power.

Coping Through Comedy

Comedy in MASH* isn’t just for laughs—it’s a survival strategy. The doctors are cracking jokes in the operating room not because they’re detached, but because they care too much. The juxtaposition of comedy and horror mirrors how people actually survive trauma: with irreverence, irony, and camaraderie.

Performances

Donald Sutherland as Hawkeye is sardonic, relaxed, and charmingly amoral. His blend of sharp intellect and deadpan delivery anchors the film’s humour without making him a caricature.

Elliott Gould brings a raw, irrepressible energy to Trapper John. Together with Sutherland, the pair has effortless chemistry—they feel less like characters and more like real people winging their way through chaos.

Sally Kellerman earned an Oscar nomination as Major Houlihan. Initially the butt of the film’s harshest jokes, she evolves into a more complex figure, revealing the toll of ridicule and loneliness amid the bravado.

Robert Duvall, in an early standout role, plays Frank Burns as a puritanical hypocrite—a rigid authoritarian whose moral superiority crumbles under scrutiny. He’s the perfect target for the film’s contempt for blind obedience.

Direction and Style

Robert Altman’s approach is almost documentary-like. He uses overlapping dialogue, wide ensemble scenes, and zoom lenses to create a sense of eavesdropping—like the audience has wandered into the middle of a real conversation. This style was revolutionary at the time, and it helped birth the “Altman style” that would define his work in Nashville, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, and The Long Goodbye.

Altman wasn’t interested in plot so much as texture—how people talk, interact, and survive. The result is a film that feels chaotic but lived-in, messy but profoundly human.

Sound and Music

The soundtrack is one of the film’s most memorable aspects. The title song, “Suicide Is Painless,” composed by Johnny Mandel with lyrics by Altman’s son, is hauntingly ironic—melancholic and beautiful in a way that mocks the upbeat energy of most war films.

Altman uses music not just for mood but as commentary, heightening the absurdity of violence or punctuating emotional truth amid the farce.

Cultural Impact and Legacy

MASH* won the Palme d’Or at Cannes and was nominated for five Academy Awards, winning for Best Adapted Screenplay (Ring Lardner Jr.). It also spawned one of the most successful television shows of all time, which, ironically, was more earnest and emotionally resonant than the film's brash nihilism.

It’s impossible to overstate MASH*'s influence on ensemble storytelling, anti-war cinema, and the evolution of the American comedy. Films like Catch-22, Dr. Strangelove, Full Metal Jacket, and even Good Morning, Vietnam owe a debt to its irreverence and realism.

But it’s also a film that invites reflection and critique—particularly for its treatment of gender and the sometimes cavalier cruelty of its humour. It is, like the war it skewers, morally complex and ethically ambiguous.

Final Thoughts

MASH* is a film of contradictions: hilarious and tragic, sexist and subversive, structured and shapeless. It refuses to give easy answers or clear heroes. Instead, it plunges us into the messiness of war, camaraderie, and human survival.

Altman didn’t just make a war film—he made a film about how people endure war, in all its absurdity, boredom, and occasional bursts of joy.

Over fifty years later, MASH* remains one of the most daring and influential satires in cinema history.