In 1991, River Phoenix appeared in two movies: Gus Van Sant’s “My Own Private Idaho” and Nancy Savoca’s “Dogfight.” Coming off an Oscar nomination for “Running on Empty” a few years prior and a small role in 1989’s top worldwide box office hit, “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” Phoenix was riding high in Hollywood and surely had his pick of big-budget or prestige pictures to star in. The young actor, though, chose to participate in two films spearheaded by independent cinema directors. 

“Dogfight,” available for the first time on Criterion Blu-ray, makes the case that River Phoenix was not only a once-in-a-lifetime talent but also a keen navigator of his own career. Through his performance as a callow Marine who’s on his way to Vietnam, the actor wished to demonstrate his range, to play against the “sensitive boy” typecasting of his other roles, as director Savoca puts it in a supplementary video on the disc. She also observes how the actor was still able to show the character’s sensitive side beneath a bold, blustering exterior, and it’s precisely this duality that makes his performance so heartbreaking — arguably his best on screen before his untimely death two years later.

Primarily taking place over the course of a night in November 1963, the film’s narrative opens with Eddie Birdlace (Phoenix) and his three bootcamp buddies arriving at San Francisco for some carousing before heading overseas. The four and their fellow jarheads agree to reconvene at 19:00 hours for a shindig, the theme of which the viewer is not privy to until a pattern emerges from their activities in town: Each male approaches a girl or woman who’s considered unattractive and attempts to go out with them. “Dogfight” derives from the competitive nature of the party, in which the “ugliest” female date secures her partner the pool of money to which the boys have all contributed. The women, of course, are not apprised of the cruel joke.

As his attempts around town fail, Eddie stumbles into a diner where he meets Rose, a waitress. He first sees the back of her head as she’s strumming a guitar and singing softly, and another joke here is that this aural and visual glimpse is all the information Eddie needs in order to know she’s not a looker. He then proceeds to talk to her about folk music — though it’s clear, as he later admits, that he knows very little about it. Nonetheless, after initially demurring, she agrees to go with him to this “party.” 

Rose is portrayed by Lili Taylor, and though the actress certainly is not homely, the filmmakers transformed her into a frumpy, chubby young woman with an unwieldy bouffant hairstyle, excessively styled eyebrows, acne, and rosacea. Despite her love of folk music and her talk of joining the Peace Corps, it’s clear that Rose is figuring herself out while still living under the social strictures of the 1950s, particularly as she lives with her mother. Yet, when she speaks of her likes and dislikes, we see the passion in her eyes, and when, at the party, she finds out about the contest, we understand why this character would proceed to slap and punch Eddie right in the face. 

While there’s brutal fun to be had as the boys woo their dates before and during the party, it’s after Eddie goes to Rose’s home to apologize and asks her to accompany him on a proper date that the film turns into a gentle romance, with charming scenes and sequences playing out as the pair paint the town. One involves them being turned away from a fancy restaurant, and we see how Rose, now with a more natural hairstyle and outfit, shares a certain mischievousness with Eddie. 

Another great scene is set in a funhouse where different canned music tableaus and pianolas play classical pieces. As Eddie places coins into each machine, creating a cacophony of sounds, his desperate need for affection and admiration is written all over River Phoenix’s face. The scene ends with the two sharing an awkward yet ardent kiss and embrace.

After the party, director Savoca periodically shows us what Eddie’s three buds are up to, and their antics involve the usual military men on the town clichés: fistfights, tattoos, etc. Yet early the next morning, when Eddie rejoins them in order to head back to base, a conversation between him and the group’s ostensible leader, Berzin, shows how they may not be as clueless to their own dishonesty, anger, and cruelty as it seems. Further dialogue connects this behavior to the wider nation.   

Viewed as a short story in filmic form, “Dogfight” captivates with its compelling concept, unity of structure, and focus on not just Eddie’s inner life but Rose’s, too. Ultimately though, the film belongs to Phoenix, despite the considerable work by Ms. Savoca and Ms. Taylor (who would work together again) in expanding the initial screenplay by Bob Comfort, a former Marine. Phoenix’s live-wire performance — with its aggression, tender glances, adult-mimicking mannerisms, and child-like innocence — constitutes the film’s bruised, conflicted core. When we see Eddie a few years later, at the end of the film, no less than a line from the Bible comes to mind: “But when I grew up, I put away childish things.”