1970: Patton.

Gen. George S. Patton, Jr. (George C. Scott) salutes the audience in the iconic opening scene.

Release Date: Feb. 5, 1970. Running Time: 172 minutes. Screenplay: Francis Ford Coppola, Edmund H. North. Based on the books: Patton, Ordeal and Triumph, by Ladislas Farago; and A Soldier's Story, by Omar N. Bradley. Producer: Frank McCarthy. Director: Franklin J. Schaffner.


THE PLOT:

The disastrous Battle of Kasserine Pass leads to major American losses in northern Africa. Gen. George S. Patton Jr. (George C. Scott) is given command of the surviving II Corps, and he goes to work instilling a sense of discipline and pride in the men. He quickly clashes with the British forces over supplies, plans, and air cover, and he enters into a rivalry with Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery (Michael Bates), the British hero Patton regards as a prima donna.

After the Allies achieve victory in Africa, Patton and Montgomery submit separate plans for an invasion of Sicily. To Patton's annoyance, Montgomery's cautious unified assault is favored over his own more aggressive approach. When Montgomery gets bogged down in the southeast, Patton makes a push to capture the key cities of Palermo and Messina... something that doesn't sit well with his second-in-command, Omar Bradley (Karl Malden), who views this as sacrificing lives for the sake of one man's glory.

The fall of Sicily makes Patton into a hero... but not for long. During the campaign, he slapped a soldier with combat fatigue and shouted that the man should be shot as a coward. The incident goes public, causing a loss of support. Patton is passed over for command of the invasion of Europe, with Bradley given that plum assignment. As he's relegated to staging a distraction, he is told to consider himself on probation.

After the landing at Normandy, he is given another chance. He's made commander of the Third Army, and he begins a rapid advance across France. He becomes frustrated when his desire to advance to Berlin is thwarted (for the second time) in favor of an ill-fated rival plan by Montgomery. But when the Germans launch their counteroffensive, the Battle of the Bulge, Patton's aggressiveness suddenly becomes the very thing the Allies need!

Patton finds success on the battlefield, but he sabotages himself in the press.

GEORGE C. SCOTT AS GENERAL GEORGE S. PATTON:

"No (soldier) ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor, dumb (soldier) die for HIS country!"

42-year-old George C. Scott plays the 60-year-old general... and it works. It helps that Scott was one of those people who looked old when he was still fairly young. The only, very slight giveaway is the occasional shot in which lighting makes it obvious that his hair has been artificially whitened. These are relatively rare single shots, however; given how magnetic Scott's performance is, it's doubtful many viewers will notice.

Though it's evident that the filmmakers genuinely like their bellicose subject, they avoid making this a hagiography. Patton is presented sympathetically, and the movie clearly wants us to believe that he's in the right when he disagrees with official strategy - but the script and actor don't shy away from showing his vanity and ego. He loves being the center of attention. There's a moment when, while his army advances across France, the movie cuts to Omar Bradley approving a front-page article, proclaiming, "Give George a headline, and he's good for another thirty miles!"

George C. Scott is superb, delivering not a single false note. There is a potential danger in reducing Patton to an eternally shouty caricature. Scott makes sure to vary his deliveries, and the script makes sure to give him moments of quiet and contemplation. Patton is also played as part showman, and Scott keeps a twinkle in his eye as he barks orders, savoring that his men are never quite certain when he's serious and when he's acting. "It isn't important for them to know," he observes. "It's only important for me to know."

Scott became the first actor to refuse to accept his Oscar, condemning the entire concept of the Academy Awards as "degrading." I would argue for the Oscars' worth, not because Scott was wrong (he wasn't) and not because they always get it right (they often don't), but because the awards provide a glimpse at what is valued and even celebrated in a given year. Co-star Karl Malden expressed sympathy for Scott's reasons, but he felt that he could have been less blunt in his refusal - the two actors' statements making a perfect parallel to the roles they played in the movie.

Gen. Omar Bradley (Karl Malden) is appalled when Patton jeopardizes lives for the sake of ego.

KARL MALDEN AS GENERAL OMAR BRADLEY:

Malden's Bradley is this film's moral center (and it's probably no coincidence that the real Bradley consulted on the film). He recommends Patton for the North Africa posting, seeing him as well-suited to getting the demoralized troops back into fighting shape. He recognizes Patton's quirks and flaws, but he's still supportive of him... during the North Africa campaign.

This changes in the Sicily campaign, when Patton creatively interprets his orders - or just ignores them as "garbled" - in his rush to reach Messina ahead of Field Marshal Montgomery. Bradley doesn't directly clash with his superior, but he lets his disapproval show in his tone and in the look in his eyes. When he rebuffs Patton's offer to accompany him into Messina with a simple, "I'm not very good at that, George," his judgment is as fierce as it is quiet. When he later states that he would have relieved Patton had he been in charge in Sicily, we remember this moment and know that he means it.

That quality of quiet strength makes him a perfect foil to the bellicose title character. Bradley is low-key, plain and unshowy. Karl Malden's unassuming yet solid presence is both opposite and equal to George C. Scott's showy bravado, and I think Malden's performance is every bit as crucial to the movie's success as Scott's own.

Rommel (Karl Michael Vogler, center) is frustrated when his superiors
refuse to commit all forces to defending Normandy.

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Col. Charles Codman: Paul Stevens plays Patton's aide, who stays at his side even when the general tells him that he's "hitched (his) wagon to a falling star." Codman knows how to play to the general's ego. When he takes over as aide, Patton's ego has just been stung by learning that he did not actually face Rommel in North Africa. Codman smoothly points out that he defeated Rommel's plan, which is the same as defeating the man himself. He's unwaveringly loyal, but he isn't blind to the man's faults. There's a hint of weariness and frustration in his voice when he vainly attempts to remind him to mention the Russians in a speech, with Patton's failure to do so compounding his problems with his superiors..

Field Marshal Montgomery: While the film acknowledges Montgomery's effectiveness in pushing the Germans back in North Africa, it does so only in words. What it shown is a smug man who plays politics, trying to steer the course of the war in a way that will build his own reputation. The irony that much of this describes Patton himself isn't lost on the title character, who acknowledges to Bradley: "I'm a prima donna, I admit it. What I can't stand about Monty is, he won't admit it!" I won't call the film's portrayal character assassination; the real-life Montgomery was hardly a well-liked figure even before he proposed making South African apartheid into a model for the entire continent. Still, there's no question that the movie plays up his arrogance while downplaying his military successes.

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel: He refuses to celebrate the victory against the Americans at Kasserene Pass. He recognizes that the Americans were poorly led and knows that this is a correctable weakness. He is quick to recognize Patton's skill, but he doesn't make the mistake of mythologizing the man. During the attack on Normandy, he urges all forces be brought to bear to repel the attack. His frustration is tangible when his superior refuses, insisting that the assault is a distraction, and that the real invasion will be led by Patton. Karl Michael Vogler does a splendid job of showing Rommel's intelligence and instincts, making the most of very limited screen time.

The opening scene makes an instant and indelible impression.

OPENING SEQUENCE - A MAN AND A FLAG:

"Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser."

The opening is striking. There is no studio logo, no lead-in. The screen simply fades in on a giant American flag. George C. Scott's Patton strides up onto the screen and delivers a sharp salute, quick cuts focusing on the salute and his eyes, on the Ivory-handled revolver, on his riding crop, on his medals.

For the next six minutes, Patton delivers a (PG-safe) profanity-laced speech to rouse the morale of the men, who are unseen. He extolls the virtue of winning and the shame of losing. He denounces the idea of individuality, then makes a gory call to not just defeat the enemy, but to "cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks!"

Scott is masterful, his Patton as colorful and witty as he is aggressive. At some points, he speaks in quieter tones, as if reflecting on his words while speaking them. Then his ramrod-straight posture somehow gets even straighter as he all but bellows the next line in his speech. We gain an impression of the general's combative nature and also of his showmanship... and, in Scott's hands, we also sense the intellect lurking underneath the pugnacity. 

It is six minutes with only one actor on screen, against that flag backdrop, talking (and sometimes shouting), and it is instantly and absolutely compelling. I'd label it as one of the great openings in film history.

Patton loses his temper at a shell-shocked soldier, a moment that will come back to haunt him.

OTHER MUSINGS:

"God help me, I do love it so."
-Patton reflects on war in the aftermath of a battle.

Patton is a strange sort of epic. It offers the large-scale battle scenes you expect from a big-studio war movie, but those scenes are not at the center of the story. The focus is much more on the mercurial, self-sabotaging title character. More time in spent with characters in rooms, talking and planning and arguing, than is spent in the midst of action.

The script earned Francis Ford Coppola his first Academy Award (alongside co-writer Edmund H. North), and I doubt it's a coincidence that he was able to direct The Godfather not long after. The story is carefully crafted. Most of what's portrayed is reasonably accurate by Hollywood standards, but incidents are selected and used to fashion a neat arc out of messy reality. There are quiet stretches, with the entire middle of the film moving away from the battlefield to focus on Patton's time in the wilderness, and yet the pace never flags. At nearly three hours, the film goes by remarkably quickly.

George C. Scott's performance and sheer screen presence anchors this, with Karl Malden is every bit his equal. Supporting performances are also strong, from Paul Stevens' loyal aide, who often seems more politically savvy than his superior, to Siegfried Rauch's Steiger, a German officer tasked with researching the general, who comes to identify with his subject.

Patton is well made, with several memorable visual moments, though I don't think it ever quite reaches the heights of David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia, another Oscar winning war biography centered around a brilliant but flawed central figure. There's a certain self-consciousness in some of the visuals, as if director Franklin J. Schaffner wants you to know which moments are the most "important" ones. It's not quite a problem with this film - few directors could compete with David Lean at his height - but it is something I noticed a few times while watching.

The movie gets a big lift from its music. Jerry Goldsmith's main theme is stirring and atmospheric. It doesn't simply play unaltered throughout the movie, with slight variations to match changes in mood and setting, while snatches of it also play within the general incidentals. No disrespect to Francis Lai's score for Love Story, and I suppose that film was such a huge hit that it needed to win something... but I find Patton's score to be richer, more memorable, and simply better.

The film offers several striking visuals, but some of them feel a bit self-conscious.

SEQUEL:

In 1986, CBS aired The Last Days of Patton, which saw George C. Scott returning to his most famous role. This telefilm, which aired in a 3-hour time slot (2.5 hours without commercials), covered the last part of Patton's life, from his short-lived governorship of Bavaria to his paralysis and eventual death after a car accident.

George C. Scott was much closer in age to the real Patton than he had been for the 1970 motion picture, and his performance is again excellent. The first part, which covers Patton's time in Bavaria, is interesting. The pace sags afterward, however, and the final hour becomes a slog.

Had this been limited to a 2-hour slot, with a tighter script, I think it would have been a fine companion piece to the movie. But I suspect Scott reprising Patton was too strong an incentive for the network to limit the ad space it could sell. The movie has merit, but there just isn't enough story to fill the time. I'd still label it worth watching for fans of the original film, particularly since it can regularly be found streaming free-with-ads on various services.

A defiant Patton is determined to secure victory.

OVERALL:

Patton is highly entertaining, and a sharp character study of a difficult and complex figure. Though entirely sympathetic to the title character, it doesn't skimp on portraying his many faults. This helps to bring Patton to life in a way that a hagiography wouldn't achieve.

Some of the visual moments feel oddly self-conscious to me, I think because they are directed with a precision that isn't necessarily present in other scenes. Still, it's well made and thoroughly engaging throughout, and it's bolstered by an outstanding central performance by George C. Scott.  At just shy of three hours, I can't think of a single second that left me even slightly restless - and the iconic opening is worth a point all on its own.


Rating: 8/10.

Best Picture - 1969: Midnight Cowboy
Best Picture - 1971: The French Connection

Review Index

To receive new review updates, follow me:

On BlueSky:

Follow @RandomMusings09 on BlueSky

On Threads:

Follow@randommusings09 on Threads

1965: The Sound of Music.

Maria (Julie Andrews) is introduced singing against the Austrian Alps.

Release Date: Mar. 2, 1965. Running Time: 174 minutes. Screenplay: Ernest Lehman. Based on the stage musical by Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse, based on the book, The Story of the Trapp Family Singers, by Maria von Trapp. Producer: Robert Wise. Director: Robert Wise.


THE PLOT:

It has become clear to the Sisters at Nonnberg Abbey in Salzburg, Austria that Maria (Julie Andrews) is not suited to the life of a nun. Though she's well-liked, she has difficulty following the many strict rules - even such basic ones as punctuality.

The Mother Abbess (Peggy Wood) decides to give the young woman a chance to reflect by assigning her as governess to the seven children of Georg Von Trapp (Christopher Plummer), a widowed former sea captain who was highly decorated during the First World War. It's a rocky adjustment for Maria. Georg is a stern man who runs his household as if he's still in the military, and the children misbehave to try to get his attention.

With perseverance, kindness, and a talent for singing, Maria wins over first the children and, eventually, Georg as well. The house becomes a happy place for the first time since his wife died, with Maria leading the children in putting on musical shows for first their father and then his guests, eventually drawing the eye of Georg's friend, promoter Max Detweiler (Richard Haydn), who believes such a family music group would be a huge draw.

But this is all occuring in 1938, just before the Anschluss, the annexation of Austria by Hitler's Germany. The Nazis are coming - and Georg's disdain for them may make himself and his family into targets!

Maria wins over Georg's children with enthusiasm and kindness.

CHARACTERS:

Maria: Julie Andrews plays yet another singing governess who changes the lives of a stern father and his children... but her Maria is not just a retread of Mary Poppins. Andrews injects a tentative quality into the early scenes, moments of hesitation that make it clear that she doesn't actually feel the self-confidence that she tries to project. This matches several story beats. Notably, when Maria is confronted with her feelings for Georg, her reaction is to retreat, in part to avoid conflict with Georg's fiancée (Eleanor Parker) and in part out of fear of her own feelings. This keeps her feeling like a fully rounded human being rather than a "Too Good to Be True" Hollywood creation.

Georg von Trapp: His initial sternness seems to be an emotional defense after the death of his wife. Once he reconnects with his children, he immediately becomes a warmer figure, though actor Christopher Plummer's innate reserve holds back an arguably too-quick transformation from seeming like a complete thaw. He again smiles and laughs with his children, but he remains icy with outsiders - particularly the Nazi supporters who prevail on him to accept that "the Anschluss is coming."

His role made him into an international star. Even so, Plummer never liked the film, dubbing it, "The Sound of Mucus." Director Robert Wise would state that Plummer's attitude actually was an asset, the actor's cynicism keeping the story from descending too far into sentimentality. It is worth noting, though, that his best acting comes in the final Act, which has a much darker tone than the rest of the film.

Baroness Elsa von Schraeder: Eleanor Parker fills the antagonist role for much of the movie as Georg's fiancée. To the film's credit, she never comes across as a villain. She's calculating in her pursuit of Georg, and she acts to protect her interest when she perceives Maria as a threat to the relationship. But even this manipulation amounts to simply telling the right person the truth at the right moment. Parker plays the character as self-interested, but she never shows any active malice. This helps to maintain the light tone of the first two hours - which, in turn, increases the contrast when the final Act arrives.

Max Detweiler: A mutual friend of Georg and the Baronness, Max freely describes himself as a sponge. He's come to Salzburg looking for a music group to promote, but he stays to enjoy the good life as Georg's houseguest. Not for free, mind you - He trades his charming, witty company for the privileges of enjoying the other man's wealth. Georg even at one point tells him that he's "expensive, but very funny." He is also a genuine friend, aiding the Von Trapps in their escape even when it means putting himself in danger. Even before that, it's clear enough that Georg trusts him. Otherwise, there's no chance he would leave his children in his care when he goes on his honeymoon.

Mother Abbess: Though she knows Maria shouldn't become a nun, she never tries to force the course of the younger woman's life. Instead, she gently steers her into making the right decisions for herself, first by assigning her to the Von Trapp family and later through a simple conversation after Maria returns. When Maria reveals her feelings for Georg, the Abbess is the picture of patience as she tells her: "If you love this man, it doesn't mean you love God less." The only time she directly refuses Maria is when she begs to stay in the abbey: "These walls were not built to shut out problems. You have to face them." Peggy Wood is only in a few scenes, but she makes a strong impression every time she appears.

Rolfe: Another small part, but a critical one. Rolfe (Daniel Truhitte) is the love interest of Liesl (Charmian Carr), the oldest of Georg's children. He's an entirely innocent young man, and he and Liesl make an attractive young couple... until the final Act, when he joins the Nazis and becomes haughty and cold. The final scene between him and Georg is a particularly strong moment, well-written and wonderfully played by both Christopher Plummer and Daniel Truhitte.

The musical numbers are made to be cinematic rather than stage-like.

A CINEMATIC MUSICAL, NOT A STAGE ONE:

The Sound of Music was developed as a project for William Wyler, director of past Best Picture winners Mrs. Miniver, The Best Years of Our Lives, and Ben-Hur. Wyler was no fan of the stage musical, wanting to focus less on the singing and more on the Anschluss. To be honest, I think that would also have made for a good film, but it's safe to say that it would have been a very different one. Eventually, there was a parting of the ways, and West Side Story's Robert Wise was brought in to make a faithful adaptation of the stage play.

Faithful in content, I should say, because Wise made sure that the movie was its own experience. The previous Best Picture winning musicals that I've reviewed deliberately evoked the experience of watching them on stage. Wise's own West Side Story had musical numbers, directed (mostly) by Jerome Robbins, that mingled purely cinematic techniques with decidedly stage-like ones.

The Sound of Music's numbers are purely cinematic. This starts from the very beginning, as a series of gorgeous introductory shots of the Alps lead to the iconic helicopter shot that moves in on Julie Andrews singing the title song. When the abbey nuns sing Maria, there's a sustained shot of the nuns moving down a long abbey hallway toward the camera - a visual effect that could not be as effectively replicated on stage. Later, Maria teaches the children Do-Re-Mi against a series of location shots spanning the countryside and Salzburg.

In short, it's explicitly a movie - and the absence of any moments that break that internal reality brings the viewer that much more completely into the world of the story. This, in turn, enhances the effectiveness when the tone changes near the end, because even the musical numbers do not create any deliberate artificiality.

Maria and Georg (Christopher Plummer) fall in love.
Key to the film's success, the romance actually works.

OTHER MUSINGS:

Somehow or other, I had managed to never see The Sound of Music prior to this set of reviews. I'm now uncertain whether I should be sorry I had never watched it before, or whether I should be glad to have gotten to view it with fresh eyes. I had my doubts as to whether I'd like this. In the end, I loved it.

It's a thoroughly charming movie. All the individual elements come together just right. The characters are likable; the locations are gorgeous; the musical numbers are mostly very good and are well-integrated into the story; most of the comedy is funny; and the tone is engagingly light and bouncy right up to the point when things suddenly become tense and dangerous. Everything fits together, with the end result being greater than the sum of its (very good) individual parts.

For all that he didn't much like the project, Christopher Plummer ends up being the perfect foil for Julie Andrews, his reserve grounding her buoyancy. Andrews, in turn, brings the enthusiasm needed for us to believe that Maria's able to push past his defenses. The early scenes in the abbey plant the idea of her as a disruptive force. She brings that disruption to his well-ordered household, pushing back against his rules and procedures almost as soon as she arrives.

Their budding attraction is sold visually even before it becomes a plot point. They're frequently framed together, and scenes repeatedly show her battering against his comfortable withdrawal. When she bickers with him over his distance from his children, he paces anxiously back and forth while she stands firmly in place, giving her the power in the argument.

Even when their relationship thaws, she prods him to join the children in singing, holding his guitar out to him to play until he reluctantly accepts it. They exchange frequent glances, which are observed by the Baronness. By the time they share the dance that marks the moment that the romance becomes a point in the script, the movie has already made them a couple visually, leaving the script to catch up.

Maria ends up being a support to Georg in the final Act in a way that the Baronness simply couldn't have been. She supports Georg's dangerous resistance to the Nazis, telling Max: "I can't ask him to be less than he is." During the performance near the end, Georg sings Edelweiss to the crowd, sharing his own Austrian patriotism with them even as his country loses its independence. Midway through the song, he is overcome with emotion - and Maria steps forward to help him finish.

Georg angrily tears a Nazi flag.

A CHANGE IN TONE:

The movie seamlessly handles the switch in tone in the final Act. That the Anschluss is coming is established earlier, when Nazi sympathizers approach Georg at a dinner party. He responds with perfectly polite and pleasant acid, the perfect host even as he insults them to their faces. Moments like these allow us to sense the storm clouds before they finally roll in.

The final Act doesn't introduce any new musical numbers. Instead, it offers altered reprises of earlier songs. "Nothing in Austria has changed," the Nazis insist, practically as a catchphrase, but everything is different. The nice boy the eldest daughter had a crush on? He's now a strutting, Swastika-wearing martinet. Earlier in the film, Sixteen Going on Seventeen established Liesl's attraction to him; a much sadder version is sung between Maria and Liesl to show the death of that crush. Edelweiss goes from whimsy performed by Georg for his family to a gesture of defiance, sung to stir the Austrian patriotism of the crowd. Even the silly So Long, Farewell gets a reprise in a more dramatic context. All of this keeps it feeling like the same movie, but the changed context shows that the previous sense of joy has been replaced with sadness and fear.

The story culminates in the family's dramatic escape... which is entirely fictional. In reality, when Georg realized that he and his family would not be safe under the Nazis, he purchased tickets and they got on a train out of the country (in reality, unlike in the film, the border was still open). But that would make for a dull story.

The movie's escape gives the hint of jeopardy that this needs as a work of drama. The scene of them hiding from their pursuers in a crypt, ducking behind gravestones to avoid the beams of the Nazis' flashlights, is a moment of tension that wouldn't be out of place in a Hitchcock thriller, while their final journey over the mountains makes for a wonderful final visual that ties right back to the introductory shots.

The family escapes over the Alps. In reality, they just boarded a train.

REMAKES AND RETELLINGS:

The Trapp Family (1956): This West German film was the first one made about the family. Its script directly influenced the story and structure of the stage musical, though it spends considerably more time focusing on the family's many performances for charity, which The Sound of Music almost entirely omits. It was extremely successful in its home country, leading to...

The Trapp Family in America (1958): A direct sequel, adapted from the back half of Maria von Trapp's book, this follows the family as they establish themselves as singers in America, eventually settling in Vermont.

Trapp Family Story (1991): This Japanese animated series retells the story across forty episodes. This was part of Japan's long-running World Masterpiece Theater, which was behind such series as Isaio Takahata's Heidi, Girl of the Alps and Yoshio Kuroda's Swiss Family Robinson, among many other titles.

The Sound of Music Live! (2013): A television special that aired live on NBC, with country singer Carrie Underwood as Maria. This drew mixed reviews; Underwood's singing was generally praised, but her acting left reviewers underwhelmed. Still, it proved a significant ratings success for the network.

The family performs.

OVERALL:

Until the release of Grease more than a decade later, The Sound of Music was the most financially successful movie musical of all time. Beyond that - as with Gone with the Wind for movies in general, it remains the musical box office champion if you adjust for inflation.

It's easy enough to see why it's such an enduring success. The movie is wonderfully cinematic entertainment that doesn't put a foot wrong, its three-hour running time passes in an eyeblink, while the tonal shift of the final Act makes it substantial enough to stick in the memory.

This was released during a period in which musicals were regularly winning Best Picture. Of the musicals that I've reviewed to date (and I think Oliver! is the only one now left), this is easily my favorite.

I can't imagine it having been particularly better than it is. As such...


Rating: 10/10.

Related Post: Singing Through a Time of Change - The Musical, The Best Picture Oscar, and the 1960s.

Best Picture - 1964: My Fair Lady
Best Picture - 1966: A Man for All Seasons

Review Index

To receive new review updates, follow me:

On BlueSky:

Follow @RandomMusings09 on BlueSky

On Threads:

Follow@randommusings09 on Threads

1957: The Bridge on the River Kwai.

Col. Nicholson (Alec Guinness) resolves to maintain his men's pride - even at the cost of collaboration!

Release Date: Oct. 2, 1957. Running Time: 161 minutes. Screenplay: Carl Foreman, Michael Wilson (originally uncredited; credit restored). Based on the novel, The Bridge over the River Kwai, by Pierre Boulle. Producer: Sam Spiegel. Director: David Lean.


THE PLOT:

Commander Shears (William Holden) is a prisoner at a camp in Japanese occupied Thailand. When the extremely English Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guinness) and his men march into camp in perfect formation, Shears regards them with bemusement, fully expecting that he will soon be digging graves for them the same as he has for many of those he was captured with.

Colonel Saito (Sessue Hayakawa), the camp commandant, informs the new arrivals that they will be constructing a bridge over the River Kwai. When he adds that the British officers will work alongside the enlisted men, Nicholson balks, insisting that the Geneva Convention forbids using officers for manual labor. This sets up a contest of wills, with the British officers subjected to intense punishment.

Shears does not wait to see the end of the standoff. He escapes, eventually making his way to Allied territory. Meanwhile, Saito, under increasing pressure to finish the bridge by an unrealistic deadline, accedes to Nicholson's demands.

The bridge now becomes Nicholson's obsession. With the enthusiastic support of his men, he resolves to teach the Japanese "a lesson in Western efficiency that will put them to shame." There's only one problem. Shears has been assigned to help a team of British commandoes. Their mission? To blow up the bridge!

Despite intense punishment, Nicholson refuses to compromise.

ALEC GUINNESS AS COLONEL NICHOLSON:

Alec Guinness won an Oscar, and he dominates the screen as the proud and stubborn British colonel. One of many memorable moments sees him brought before Saito to try to find a compromise. He is haggard, his skin has a corpse-like pallor, and he has difficulty even walking. Even so, he draws himself up, carrying himself with as much strength as he can muster even though he's on the brink of collapse.

Nicholson is a heroic figure for the movie's first half. Even when he begins proper work on the bridge, he backs up that choice with sound reasoning. He sees that his men have descended into a rabble, and the bridge gives them a task that can be used to restore their sense of self-worth. As the project continues, the project becomes less about British pride and more about his own personal pride, even as his actions hew ever closer to outright collaboration with the enemy.

Shears (William Holden) and the other prisoners observe the conflict between Nicholson and Saito.

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Commander Shears: The start of the conflict between Nicholson and Saito is filtered through his reactions, which are those of a man who is perfectly happy to swallow his pride if it means he gets to stay alive. When Nicholson insists that the Japanese must be made to understand that they are soldiers and not slaves, Shears counters that he's willing to be "a slave - a living slave." It's not that he's a coward, as the second half shows at several points. He simply has no patience for the kind of romantic, self-satisfied heroics that, in his experience, just end up getting people killed.

Major Warden: The officer in charge of the mission... and he makes one wonder if Apocalypse Now's napalm-loving Kilgore had a British uncle in World War II. Warden plays with explosives with the glee of a child with a toy science kit. He is totally devoted to the mission, valuing its success over the lives of his men, an attitude he justifies all the way through to his final scene. At one point, Shears scornfully compares him to Nicholson, and it's apt as both men take their idea of duty to an extreme that becomes indistinguishable from madness.

Col. Saito: One-time silent movie star Sessue Hayakawa was nominated for a Supporting Actor Oscar as the camp commandant, and he should have won. As great as Alec Guinness is, the test of wills between Nicholson and Saito would be meaningless if Hayakawa didn't provide an equal and opposite presence. Saito is desperate not to lose face by capitulating to Nicholson. He attempts various tactics, from physical punishment to trying to get the enlisted POWs on his side by criticizing the officers' unwillingness to work. When he finally gives in, Nicholson emerges from the "oven" to a hero's welcome from his men... and Saito weeps in private, feeling every ounce of the shame at effectively surrendering to his own prisoner.

Major Clipton: The camp medic, and in many ways the movie's moral center. During the Nicholson/Saito conflict, each colonel tries to appeal to him to get the other to bend, and each describes the other as "mad." Clipton decides they're both mad. Once Nicholson has taken charge of the construction, he's the only British prisoner not persuaded by the project. "Why must we work so well?" he asks, and he is the only one among the British to even try to get Nicholson to see that his actions could be considered collaboration. His is the final face shown in the movie, as he delivers the memorable final lines. Actor James Donald sells all of this perfectly, the lines on his face as important as his voice as he decries the insanity.

Nicholson surveys the (lack of) progress on the bridge.

THOUGHTS:

"I hate the British! You are defeated, but you have no shame. You are stubborn but have no pride. You endure, but you have no courage!"
-Col. Saito erupts in response to Nicholson's stubbornness.

The Bridge on the River Kwai is often regarded as one of the greatest films of the 1950s, and it's become a mainstay on lists of the best war pictures of all time. It also completely changed the career of director David Lean. Before Kwai, he was a prolific helmer of (mostly excellent) character-based stories, with titles that included: Blithe Spirit, Brief Encounter, Great Expectations, Hobson's Choice, and Summertime. After this movie, all of his films were made on an epic scale - and they became rare events, with him making fewer movies across the rest of his career than he had helmed in the rest of the 1950s alone.


VISUAL STORYTELLING AND INDELIBLE MOMENTS:

When you talk about Bridge on the River Kwai, the first thing that will come to the mind of almost anyone who's watched it is the "Colonel Bogey" scene. Both the current prisoners and the Japanese look on in amazement as Nicholson and his men march into camp in perfect formation while whistling. They take their positions and continue march in place for entire minutes, a defiant show of their spirit.

If that was all there was to the scene, it would be memorable. But Lean also cuts from the spectacle of the march to the feet of the soldiers, showing some men with worn out shoes rotting off their feet and others who are already barefoot. No words are used comment on this, either here or later; the film trusts itself and its audience enough to simply deliver the visual information.

Lean supplies indelible images throughout. When Nicholson refuses to allow himself or his officers to perform manual labor, Saito leaves the defiant officers to stand at attention, baking all day in the harsh sun. Without dialogue, the film dissolves to the glare of the sun beating down on Nicholson, then to a wide shot of the colonel and his officers. What follows is a sustained sequence of the officers standing in place. One finally collapses, and he is left where he falls until the day reaches its end. At that point, the collapsed man is dragged away while the others are sent to even harsher punishment.

The visual storytelling extends to Nicholson's character arc. In the first half of the film, he is frequently seen with his men behind him, culminating in the moment when he wins the contest with Saito and his hoisted onto the shoulders of his subordinates. Even when he shares the screen with Saito, he stands opposite the Japanese colonel, framed as an adversary. By the movie's final Act, however, Nicholson is repeatedly framed with Saito: standing together as they survey the bridge, or walking together under the bridge even as the commando raid reaches its climax. The staging emphasizes what the story has shown: That Nicholson has, however unintentionally, become Saito's ally rather than his enemy.

A reluctant Shears is "volunteered" to join a commando mission.

MEMORABLE DIALOGUE:

The visual storytelling never comes at the expense of the spoken dialogue. The screenplay was originally credited to the book's author, Pierre Boulle, but in reality it was the work of blacklisted writers Carl Foreman and Michael Wilson. I'll discuss the blacklist issue in a supplemental post. For the purposes of the review, it's enough to note that the script is stuffed with splendid dialogue.

For a movie that's dark in tone, it's surprising how much humor there is. It's dark and cynical humor, offering the release of a chuckle or even a full laugh without breaking the atmosphere. An early scene has Saito telling Nicholson that he will have to commit ritual suicide if he fails to complete the bridge. Nicholson dryly responds: "I suppose if I were you, I'd have to kill myself." This is punctuated brilliantly with Nicholson, who has so far refused Saito's offer of a drink, picking up the glass and offering a gleeful, "Cheers!"

Later, in the other converging storyline, William Holden's Shears finds that he's been "volunteered" to join Major Warden's mission. He is quietly but increasingly alarmed by the major's attitude. The mission involves a parachute drop, something Shears has never been trained for. Warden is utterly unconcerned, telling him to simply "jump and hope for the best." Shears asks: "With or without parachute?" The officers laugh at what they see as a splendid jape, while Shears just looks on with weary resignation.

There are a few splendid monologues: Saito's frustrated eruption at Nicholson, Shears' angry denunciation of treating war as a game, Nicholson's wistful reverie on the completed bridge. All of these are much quoted, and with good reason.

That said, I think my favorite exchange is the tiny character moment that precedes Nicholson's last monologue. Nicholson is standing on the bridge with Col. Saito. The commandant stares up at the sunset and remarks on its beauty. Nicholson, blind to anything other than his monument, believes Saito is referring to the bridge, and Saito does not correct his mistake. Nicholson was made heroic by the first hour, while Saito has unquestionably been the villain... but in this moment, it's Saito who seems the more human of the two.

Two stubborn colonels, one from each side: Saito (Sessue Hayakawa) and Nicholson (Alec Guinness).

REMAKES AND RETELLINGS:

There has been no direct remake of The Bridge on the River Kwai, though I think it's fair to say that its influence has been felt in many war-themed movies that followed it. The "Colonel Bogey March" has been repeatedly referenced in popular culture. The film itself was directly spoofed by Spike Milligan and Peter Sellers on an LP record, under the title Bridge on the River Wye.

There was also a not-sequel in 1989, Return from the River Kwai. I have not seen it, but it is based on a nonfiction title by Joan and Clay Blair Jr. and is entirely unrelated to David Lean's movie. It drew mixed reviews, and its reception was not helped by its title. Invoking "River Kwai" ended up creating legal problems when the estate of Sam Spiegel, the 1957 film's producer, threatened to sue. The movie went unreleased in the US, and its UK release included a disclaimer that it was unrelated to the earlier picture. Unsurprisingly, and despite a relatively modest budget, it proved to be a financial failure.

Nicholson celebrates the bridge's completion.

OVERALL:

The Bridge on the River Kwai is a great movie. More importantly from a viewer's standpoint, it's a good movie. This isn't some stolid artwork that viewers must force themselves to endure for The Sake of Technique and/or Message. No, this is a well-paced, thoroughly suspenseful adventure with not a single boring second to its name. Performances are universally excellent, with Alec Guinness and Sessue Haywakawa particularly outstanding, and the movie bristles with energy and life.

I'll close by repeating what I said in my review of Casablanca: If you haven't yet seen this one, watch it; and if you haven't seen it in a while, it might just be worth watching again.


Overall Rating: 10/10.

Related Post: Cracks in the Wall - Marty, The Bridge on the River Kwai, and the Decline of the Hollywood Blacklist

Best Motion Picture - 1956: Around the World in 80 Days
Best Motion Picture - 1958: Gigi

Review Index

To receive new review updates, follow me:

On BlueSky:

Follow @RandomMusings09 on BlueSky

On Threads:

Follow@randommusings09 on Threads

1953: From Here to Eternity.

First Sergeant Warden (Burt Lancaster) has a dangerous
affair with the wife (Deborah Kerr) of his commanding officer.

Release Date: Aug. 5, 1953. Running Time: 118 minutes. Screenplay: Daniel Taradash. Based on the novel by: James Jones. Producer: Buddy Adler. Director: Fred Zinnemann.


THE PLOT:

Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) loves the army. He insists that he's a "thirty year man," intent on making the military a career. But he's also prideful and stubborn - so much so that, after he's passed over for the post of First Bugler, he takes a demotion in order to transfer to Oahu.

Captain Holmes (Philip Ober) is delighted to have him, as Prewitt was a top middleweight boxer at his old regiment and Holmes sees boxing success as a path to promotion. There's only one problem: After accidentally injuring a friend while sparring, Prewitt refuses to box. Holmes prevails on his NCOs to make the private's life miserable until he accedes - but the private seems to actively take pride in enduring it.

First Sergeant Warden (Burt Lancaster) is the man who truly keeps the company going, doing all the administrative work that Holmes ignores. He is initially unimpressed with Prewitt, dubbing him a "hardhead." As the situation goes on, however, he changes his mind. He intercedes when Holmes asks to prepare a court martial against Prewitt, and he even arranges for a weekend pass for the beleagured young man.

Both men become involved in relationships. Prewitt falls for a nightclub hostess (Donna Reed), though Capt. Holmes's "treatment" leaves him with limited opportunities to see her. Ward gets into an even riskier relationship, striking up an affair with Karen (Deborah Kerr), the captain's wife - which, if it became known, could end his career and even leave him in prison!

Warden meets the newest addition to the regiment:
"hardhead" Private Prewitt (Montgomery Clift).

CHARACTERS:

Sergeant Warden: Though he labels Prewitt a "hardhead," he's just as stubborn in his own way. Karen suggests that much of their dilemma would be solved if he applied to become an officer. The movie repeatedly demonstrates that he is a born leader and a gifted administrator, and everyone he mentions the idea to agrees that he would be a fine officer. Still, he resists the move - even though, inevitably, he's the one who takes charge when the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor. Even this sequence contains a reminder that Ward limits his potential by refusing to advance, when he's delayed in getting weapons to his men because no officer is present to authorize it.

Private Prewitt: While he admits that the "treatment" he's receiving from Holmes's NCOs has him on edge, he seems to take a perverse sort of pride in enduring it. He refuses his friends' urgings to file a formal complaint. He says something about not wanting to "give (Holmes) the satisfaction," but that makes little sense; even by this point in the film, enough anecdotal evidence has accumulated that any investigation would likely give the promotion-happy captain the opposite of satisfaction. He absolutely should report the situation, not only for himself but for all the other soldiers Holmes has/will similarly torment; the "treatment" is so casually done that there's no way Prewitt's is the first case. Still, he just can't bring himself to involve others in what he sees as "his" problem.

His refusal to box is not simple stubbornness, however. We learn midway through the film exactly how badly his fellow boxer was injured, and that it happened as a result of a very normal punch to the head. This has left Prewitt afraid - not of potential injury to himself, but of inflicting a similar injury on others. Even when he is pushed into a fight late in the film with one of his tormenters, he spends most of the fight specifically avoiding any punches to the other man's head.

Karen: When Captain Holmes's wife is introduced, we're told that she's promiscuous. Seeing Ward's interest in her, one of his friends tells him that it's not just rumors - something he knows because he was one of the men. When Ward confronts her, she scornfully tells him exactly what led her to turn to other men. Deborah Kerr, who up to this point had been typecast as idealized "good girls," seems to relish playing the character's angry bitterness. She only gets one scene of substance opposite her husband, but it's also a striking moment, as she responds to him with contempt sharp enough to cut through steel... a contempt that, by this point, we know he has entirely earned.

Alma/Lurene: Also cast against type is Donna Reed, who would go on to win the Supporting Actress Oscar as the "hostess" (Hays Code speak for prostitute) with whom Prewitt falls in love. Though she goes by "Lurene" so that she'll sound more exotic for the customers, her real name is Alma. She has a firm plan for her future. She carefully saves the money she makes. Once she has a pre-set amount in savings, she will stop working and return home to buy a house and live a "proper" life. That Prewitt doesn't really fit into that plan is not lost on either of them. The final scene sees her talking openly about Prewitt on the one hand... but on the other hand, every word she says about him is a lie.

Private Angelo Maggio: Frank Sinatra also won an Oscar - and, more importantly, changed the course of his career with his energetic performance as Prewitt's likable best friend. Sensationalism aside, I'm fairly sure that no horse appendages ended up in anyone's bed to secure his casting. Sinatra was persistent in lobbying for the part, even paying for his own screen test; and since his career was at a low ebb, his very recognizable name value came with a ridiculously cheap $8,000 price tag. He's also perfect in the role. He brings a sort of weary cheerfulness to the downtrodden Maggio. He's almost always seen with a smile, but there's a hint of something pathetic about him, and his hot temper speaks of hidden resentments. Sinatra has excellent buddy chemistry with Montgomery Clift, whom he would later credit with helping him with his performance.

"Fatso" Judson: Yet another case of excellent casting, with a young Ernest Borgnine memorably chilling as the sadistic stockade sergeant. When Prewitt and Maggio first encounter him, they're warned that he enjoys violence. He's the last person either of them should antagonize... which means that Maggio inevitably picks a fight. Judson warns Maggio that someday, he'll end up in his stockade, and then “I'll show you a couple of things.” It would have been easy to overplay this, but Borgnine doesn't even deliver the line as a threat. He just states it, calmly and simply, as an immutable fact.

Maggio (Frank Sinatra) antagonizes sadistic
stockade sergeant "Fatso" Judson (Ernest Borgnine).

FILMING THE UNFILMABLE NOVEL:

James Jones's novel, From Here to Eternity, was regarded as unfilmable. It was long - almost 1,000 pages - and that page count was not in any way inflated with big print or wide margins (quite the opposite). It was a work that was highly critical of military culture, which was a problem when Army cooperation would be needed to film it with any degree of authenticity. On top of all that, the book featured frank sexuality that was woven into the work in such a way that it was difficult to imagine the story working without it.

Somehow, screenwriter Daniel Taradash managed to deal with all of these issues without losing the core of what made the novel so memorable. I'd even go so far as to say that the film improves on the book in many respects. Subplots are either simplified or pruned away entirely. Profanities have been removed, but the spoken dialogue still feels real. Many minor characters have been deleted, and others have been merged; notably, Frank Sinatra's Maggio fills the role not only of book Maggio, but also of some minor prisoners tormented by Judson in the novel. This makes the Judson subplot more focused and more personal to both Prewitt and the viewer.

The movie implies brutality instead of showing it. When Maggio inevitably ends up in Judson's stockade, the viewer is never directly shown the violence. The conflict between the two men has already been established, and all that is directly shown is a single moment. Maggio is taken before Judson, who smiles in recognition. Judson's billy club sits on his desk, and the man waits until Maggio sees it and looks at it. Then Judson reaches out for the weapon - and the scene fades to black. We don't see anything more, and we don't need to. The simple gestures of Maggio staring at the club, followed by Judson reaching for it, tell the full story.

When I reviewed producer David Selznick's Rebecca, I posted a supplemental essay about Selznick's struggles against the Hays Code. I noted that Hays Office dictates resulted in severe compromises to Rebecca's story. It's still a fine movie, but its impact was blunted by the demands of the Code.

Well, From Here to Eternity may represent the other end of the scale. This is a movie that I think is better for having to work within those constraints. There is still a heavy carnal element to the relationship between Warden and Karen, which is all the stronger thanks to the chemistry between Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr - but that element is never the point of their scenes, which always focus tightly on the two characters.

Even the famous beach embrace is followed by a character-focused monologue, as Karen recalls the miscarriage that was made into a medical crisis by her husband's drunkenness. This is another change from the novel, in which her bitterness and infidelities began after her husband passed an STD to her... and it's yet another alteration that I find to be for the better.

Alma (Donna Reed), Prewitt's love interest, has
no room for him in her carefully planned future.

OTHER MUSINGS:

Director Fred Zinnemann focuses on making the film feel as real as possible to the viewer. He shot in black-and-white and in the standard 1.33:1 format, feeling that either color or widescreen (which was just emerging) would be distractions. He shoots in an almost documentary style. Visual flourishes are kept to a minimum, with the waves crashing over Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr as they embrace on the beach being the most "Hollywood" image presented.

This approach extends to the performances. There are plenty of quotable lines. Prewitt responds to Warden's hesitation about applying as an officer candidate by telling him that "a man should be what he can do." He replies to Alma's confessions by saying that "nobody ever lies about being lonely." But, as with Ernest Borgnine's deliveries of Judson's threats, lines like these are simply spoken. The sense is of people talking, and sometimes stumbling across eloquence without knowing it, rather than of actors chewing on movie quotes.

I think this has helped From Here to Eternity to age better than many of its contemporaries. The story is as much a soap opera as the one in Cecil B. DeMille's The Greatest Show On Earth. It's the presentation that makes this soap opera feel more meaningful than that one did. Characters are shown as ordinary people, and the world in which they exist feels lived-in. What might have come across as cheap melodrama ends up feeling grounded and real, which keeps the story involving.

The mournful bugler: Prewitt plays 'Taps.'

REMAKES AND RETELLINGS:

While there has been no direct remake on the bigscreen, there have been a couple of attempts to retell this story for television.

In 1966, a thirty-minute pilot was shot with Darren McGavin in the role of Warden. It was not picked up as a series, which was likely a good choice.

A 1979 miniseries saw William Devane and Natalie Wood taking over for Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr. I haven't seen it, but it was generally well reviewed and was highly successful. Proving that network execs don't know when to quit, it then became a weekly series, with Devane but minus Natalie Wood. It lasted all of twelve episodes, as strong initial ratings rapidly tailed off. The back half of the series was repackaged as TV movies, burned off throughout 1980 during what would otherwise have been rerun season.


OVERALL:

1953's From Here to Eternity benefits from strong direction, excellent performances across the board, and an adaptation that captures the spirit of the novel while paring the story down to its essentials. It's a rare film that I prefer to its source novel, and time has been kind to most of the choices made in this adaptation.


Overall Rating: 9/10.

Best Motion Picture - 1952: The Greatest Show on Earth
Best Motion Picture - 1954: On the Waterfront

Review Index

To receive new review updates, follow me:

On BlueSky:

Follow @RandomMusings09 on BlueSky

On Threads:

Follow@randommusings09 on Threads