A microbudget antiwar picture that received a limited release, The P.O.W. is presented as a nonfiction portrait of Howie Kaufman, a Vietnam veteran navigating a return to civilian society after a war wound left him paralyzed below the waist. In fact, Howie is an actor, and so are the filmmakers who follow him around. In fact, everyone who crosses paths with Howie onscreen is performing, with the cast comprising non-actors improvising based on prompts from director Philip Dossick. Given that the meandering picture doesn’t really go anywhere, it’s unclear why Dossick chose the mockumentary route, except perhaps to allow for the intrusion of crew members and film equipment into the frame, thereby facilitating loose production. Arguably, a more purposeful application of this style would have used verité technique to sell a narrative that might otherwise feel bogus, or to pull viewers deep into a world most people don’t usually see. Still, contemplating how The P.O.W. might have been more stylistically or thematically grounded serves little purpose because this modest film is what it is. At its best, The P.O.W. dramatizes the challenges of its protagonist’s transition. As played by Howard Jahre, Howie Kaufman is a remarkably sane and together dude, given how massively his life was disrupted—viewers learn that Howie worked in sales before getting drafted, and now he’s faced with the difficulty of resuming a career that usually requires constant travel. In one of the picture’s strongest scenes, an executive says he can’t hire Howie because he might have difficulty reaching file-cabinet drawers from a seated position. Equally interesting are vignettes during which friends push Howie to get his life back on track, as if that complicated task can be accomplished at will; in one sharp exchange, Howie tells civilians they can’t comprehend emotions felt during combat. Too often, however, The P.O.W. gets mired in dull hangout scenes, as when Howie plays word games while on a date. Furthermore, cutaways of Dossick reviewing footage in a cutting room add little.
Still, the movie has good intentions, and the timing of its release is noteworthy—in 1973, the war was still raging, despite Nixon’s pledges s to wind down the conflict, and pacifistic Americans were still figuring out how to hate the war but not the warriors. (For context, The P.O.W. arrived five years before mainstream Hollywood’s first major exploration of this subject matter, Coming Home.) While this may seem like a patronizing way of complimenting the film, there’s a reason Dossick never directed another picture, instead focusing on a writing career that has yielded numerous books and one produced teleplay—despite its abundant compassion, The P.O.W. lacks dramatic energy.
The P.O.W.: FUNKY
