The odd angry shot was just about all the Aussies managed in their own ignominious Vietnam war adventure. The film's title, though, might as well refer to the barbed sentiments the 'poor bloody infantry' reserve for the local politicos who sent them there and then conveniently forgot them. The movie, like the slim autobiographical novel on which it's closely based, raised something of a ruckus at home. But away from the controversy, its message of class-conscious disenchantment sits uneasily atop an episodic, post-MASH tragi-comedy featuring everybody's stereotype of the boozy, brawling, macho Aussie group. A brave gesture, maybe (and one in terms of narrative economy from which Gallipoli could have learned), but hidebound by its respect for generic clichés.