In the annals of movie lore, Taps earns a footnote for its stellar young stars. A fairly engrossing motion picture about military school cadets taking over their academy, the 1981 movie might have faded into obscurity if not for its casting. It marked the big screen debut of Sean Penn, the second such appearance for Tom Cruise and the first film Timothy Hutton made after winning the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for 1980's Ordinary People. All in all, it's a pretty nifty pedigree, and apparently enough to merit a 25th anniversary special edition.

But Taps has more to recommend it, particularly its thought-provoking notions about honor, loyalty and leadership. Based on a novel by Devery Freeman, the story concerns the fictitious Bunker Hill Military Academy, a venerable institution whose graduates have gone on to West Point and storied military careers. The academy's success is hardly a surprise, given that its superintendent is no less than ol' blood 'n guts himself, George C. Scott, who here portrays steely-eyed Gen. Bache (essentially a slightly less psychotic version of Scott's George S. Patton role).

As the school year draws to a close and the summer session begins, Bache ladles on his fatherly wisdom to Cadet Maj. Brian Moreland (Hutton), a straight-arrow upperclassman slated to lead the cadet corps the following year. Brian, who has a rocky relationship with his dad, has clearly turned to the crusty Bache for a mentor. The two have dinner together, chiefly so that Bache can sip brand and wax on about the soldier's increasingly archaic code of honor.

Then Bache drops a bombshell during a commencement ceremony. He announces to an astonished crowd that Bunker Hill's board of trustees has sold the academy land to real estate developers who, in turn, plan to build condominiums. The old warrior pulls no punches, grousing that the school "has been purchased and paid for with the blood of our graduates." Shortly thereafter, a tragic accident lands Bache in the hospital. The cadets, meanwhile, are left shell-shocked and uncertain of the academy's future.

Brian spurs his fellow cadets into action. Laying claim to a school warehouse conveniently – and inexplicably -- stocked with weaponry and ammunition, the cadets take command of the place. They steal meal rations, lock the front gates, secure the premises and keep police at bay. The cops are soon replaced by the National Guard and a tough commander (Ronny Cox) unenthusiastic about the prospect of storming the compound.

Despite the siege, Brian's demands are reasonable enough: The cadets simply want to meet with Bunker Hill's board of trustees and plead their case for why the academy should remain open. Still, the situation grows more dangerous with each passing hour, and Brian finds himself pulled in different directions from his level-headed roommate, Alex (Penn), and his gung-ho friend, Sean (Cruise).

Obviously, a good chunk of Taps requires suspension of disbelief. Not even the most black-hearted governor would likely refuse negotiations with a bunch of children holed up in a military school, especially when their demands are essentially harmless. But, hey, without that conceit, there's no movie. Moreover, director Harold Becker mostly delivers the good. Taps drags some in the second act, becoming progressively talky and stagy, but it is well-acted and its characters given room to breathe. And the sheer outrageousness of the movie's premise lends itself to a few memorably quirky images.

Scott brings industrial-strength gravitas to the role of Gen. Bache, a man perceived by the cadets, especially Brian, as the epitome of battle-hardened nobility. But the film is admirably ambivalent about the general. The casting of Scott brings certain audience expectations; this is the same actor, after all, whose portrayals of strong military men (Patton, Dr. Strangelove) bordered on crazed. Bache himself concedes that there is a bit of insanity to the military ideal, telling Brian, "It's insane to cling to honor when honor is held in contempt." In addition, Taps hints that Bache might be something of a joke to his old Pentagon colleagues.

The younger actors provide solid work. Penn is excellent (no surprise there), and even a very young Tom Cruise displays some star power. Hutton, however, is a bit of a lightweight for the part. For the cadets to embark on such an audacious siege, they would need to revere Brian in the same way that he reveres Bache. Hutton is an impressive actor, but he lacks the commanding presence needed for the role to make sense.

Presented in anamorphic widescreen 1.85:1, the picture quality is superb -- clear, detailed and boasting rich colors and blacks. The cinematography of Owen Roizman is first-rate, encapsulating the world of Bunker Hill Military Academy in imposing greens and browns. There are only a few minor instances of grain or very slight noise, but nothing that rises to the level of a distraction.

The Dolby Digital 5.1 audio makes good use of dramatic sound immersion, but it rarely gets an opportunity to show off. Taps is a talky movie and, to butcher Shakespeare, "the dialogue's the thing." There is no distortion or drop-off, so the audio does its job.

Director Harold Becker provides a disappointing commentary that could have used a colleague with whom he could have interacted. Along with some lengthy patches of dead air, Becker's insights veer toward redundancy, espousing on character motivation and symbolism already evident in the film (Taps isn't exactly subtle about its themes). A dream commentary, of course, would have included Hutton, Penn and Cruise -- although Cruise presumably would have difficulty sitting on a couch long enough.

More successful is the retrospective, Sounding the Call to Arms: Mobilizing the Taps Generation. The 29-minute, 42-second featurette boasts interviews with Becker, Roizman, Hutton, Cox and producer Stanley Jaffe, among others. There are some great anecdotes here about the film shoot at the real-life Valley Forge Military Academy in Pennsylvania. The documentary also reveals that Penn and Hutton were originally slated to play each other's roles until Hutton scored big with Ordinary People. I can't help but wonder if the movie would have been better had the producers stuck to their initial casting.

A curious but interesting extra is The Bugle's Cry: The Origins of Playing "Taps." Clocking in at nearly seven minutes, the video explains how the 24-note musical piece, "Taps," came into being. I'm not gonna spoil things by spilling the info here.

A theatrical trailer and TV spots are also included.

This is the second go-around for Taps on DVD, and while the film is hardly a classic, it gets solid treatment here.