When I first saw this movie in early 1960, I was almost literally bowled over. The film ran as the bottom half of an anonymous double-bill, so I had nothing more than routine expectations. What I got instead was unlike any war movie I had seen. Like most of the post- war generation, I was reared on WWII flag-wavers and Cold War platitudes about that conflict. Not that these were necessarily deceptive. But compared to the complexities of this film, their conventional assumptions about god and country were made plain. It struck me then and still does that this is the least compromised of war films from that pre-Vietnam era.
One key feature is the film's depiction of the logic of war. Both sides, the British and the Japanese, apply it ruthlessly. That logic is a results-oriented morality. Essentially, it holds that whatever action best promotes the winning of the war is the correct action, whether or not it violates traditional rules of morality. Thus, the British captain (Baker) executes the two innocent villagers in order to extract strategic information from an unwilling informer. It makes no difference that the Burmese natives are innocent villagers and that traditional morality absolutely forbids the taking of innocent lives. Baker does it because as he says the information can save countless more lives that would otherwise be lost. Thus the logic turns out to be a kind of utilitarian head-count—better to lose a few lives, even if innocent, than lose a thousand that maybe aren't.
Now, the depiction here strikes me as exactly the kind of logic that gets applied all the time in theatres of operation regardless of the participants. As the movie points out, we tolerate "collateral damage" in bombing campaigns even when it predictably victimizes the innocent. Perhaps we tolerate these because the victims are not seen or personalized. The film draws its power from personalizing the two victims and the agonized reaction of the villagers. The Japanese, in turn, are not exempt from the same logic, executing two non-combatants, the padre and the journalist, to further the aims of their side.
If the film is anti-war-- and I think it is, though not obviously so (contrast with Paths of Glory (1958)—it's because this ruthless logic makes sense given the methods and aims of warfare in general. Thus the only way of not being overtaken by battlefield reasoning is by avoiding war altogether. Baker's resolute captain is both chilling and commanding because, once at war, he realistically accepts the logic as the cost of winning. Moreover, by showing that both sides employ the same ruthless logic, neither side is portrayed as being morally superior to the other. Thus, if one side claims to be morally superior, that advantage must lie outside the battlefield. For on the field of battle, the logic of winning, as I believe the movie shows, simply overwhelms peacetime conventions.
One other distinctive feature is the presence of the tubby journalist (McKern). He presents a subtle counterpoint to Baker and the padre. He's a reluctant skeptic, unable to believe in either the claims of religion (note he doesn't participate in the group prayer) or the sacrifice Baker is demanding of them. Nonetheless, the screenplay places his skepticism on an equal footing with two pillars of British society, religion and the military. To me that was a particularly bold move for its time. But it is also a provocative one showing that the filmmakers were not about to take an easy or comforting way out. Considering director Val Guest's remarks (IMDB) about refusing to pander to audiences, I guess that's not surprising.
Something should be said about the ending that does in fact pay tribute to the sacrifices made by the British military to the war. The sentiments, however, appear rather ironic when judged by McKern's earlier remarks on the inadequacy of such tributes when compared to the lives lost. Whatever the filmmakers' intent, I take the ending as a challenge to audiences to make those sentiments more than mere words. How that's to be done remains, of course, the challenge.
All in all, the movie's distinction lies in its realistic refusal to simply find new ways to repeat the patriotic war clichés of its time. It's fair to say, I think, that no American studio would have dared produce such a provocative screenplay at the height of the Cold War. And that's not just because of the film's daring themes. The movie is also an extremely non-commercial product, with both an unrelenting grimness to think about and an unsurpassed ugliness to look at. That infernal jungle remains a b&w creation from heck, almost sucking the air out of both what's on-screen and off. But then, that seems appropriate. No wonder it was the bottom-half of an anonymous double bill in America's commercial-minded theatres.
Anyway, I expect in this post-Vietnam era, the movie has lost much of its initial impact since that long ago day when I was lucky enough to wander in and be forced to confront real life complexities. Nonetheless, the challenges the screenplay poses remain perhaps more pressing now than ever, regardless of how one may choose to respond. I'm glad TMC revived this obscure little gem and ran it at a popular hour. Perhaps someone in programming recognized its grim uncompromising excellence. I'm also glad to share the movie's lasting value with others thanks to the virtues of the internet.
One key feature is the film's depiction of the logic of war. Both sides, the British and the Japanese, apply it ruthlessly. That logic is a results-oriented morality. Essentially, it holds that whatever action best promotes the winning of the war is the correct action, whether or not it violates traditional rules of morality. Thus, the British captain (Baker) executes the two innocent villagers in order to extract strategic information from an unwilling informer. It makes no difference that the Burmese natives are innocent villagers and that traditional morality absolutely forbids the taking of innocent lives. Baker does it because as he says the information can save countless more lives that would otherwise be lost. Thus the logic turns out to be a kind of utilitarian head-count—better to lose a few lives, even if innocent, than lose a thousand that maybe aren't.
Now, the depiction here strikes me as exactly the kind of logic that gets applied all the time in theatres of operation regardless of the participants. As the movie points out, we tolerate "collateral damage" in bombing campaigns even when it predictably victimizes the innocent. Perhaps we tolerate these because the victims are not seen or personalized. The film draws its power from personalizing the two victims and the agonized reaction of the villagers. The Japanese, in turn, are not exempt from the same logic, executing two non-combatants, the padre and the journalist, to further the aims of their side.
If the film is anti-war-- and I think it is, though not obviously so (contrast with Paths of Glory (1958)—it's because this ruthless logic makes sense given the methods and aims of warfare in general. Thus the only way of not being overtaken by battlefield reasoning is by avoiding war altogether. Baker's resolute captain is both chilling and commanding because, once at war, he realistically accepts the logic as the cost of winning. Moreover, by showing that both sides employ the same ruthless logic, neither side is portrayed as being morally superior to the other. Thus, if one side claims to be morally superior, that advantage must lie outside the battlefield. For on the field of battle, the logic of winning, as I believe the movie shows, simply overwhelms peacetime conventions.
One other distinctive feature is the presence of the tubby journalist (McKern). He presents a subtle counterpoint to Baker and the padre. He's a reluctant skeptic, unable to believe in either the claims of religion (note he doesn't participate in the group prayer) or the sacrifice Baker is demanding of them. Nonetheless, the screenplay places his skepticism on an equal footing with two pillars of British society, religion and the military. To me that was a particularly bold move for its time. But it is also a provocative one showing that the filmmakers were not about to take an easy or comforting way out. Considering director Val Guest's remarks (IMDB) about refusing to pander to audiences, I guess that's not surprising.
Something should be said about the ending that does in fact pay tribute to the sacrifices made by the British military to the war. The sentiments, however, appear rather ironic when judged by McKern's earlier remarks on the inadequacy of such tributes when compared to the lives lost. Whatever the filmmakers' intent, I take the ending as a challenge to audiences to make those sentiments more than mere words. How that's to be done remains, of course, the challenge.
All in all, the movie's distinction lies in its realistic refusal to simply find new ways to repeat the patriotic war clichés of its time. It's fair to say, I think, that no American studio would have dared produce such a provocative screenplay at the height of the Cold War. And that's not just because of the film's daring themes. The movie is also an extremely non-commercial product, with both an unrelenting grimness to think about and an unsurpassed ugliness to look at. That infernal jungle remains a b&w creation from heck, almost sucking the air out of both what's on-screen and off. But then, that seems appropriate. No wonder it was the bottom-half of an anonymous double bill in America's commercial-minded theatres.
Anyway, I expect in this post-Vietnam era, the movie has lost much of its initial impact since that long ago day when I was lucky enough to wander in and be forced to confront real life complexities. Nonetheless, the challenges the screenplay poses remain perhaps more pressing now than ever, regardless of how one may choose to respond. I'm glad TMC revived this obscure little gem and ran it at a popular hour. Perhaps someone in programming recognized its grim uncompromising excellence. I'm also glad to share the movie's lasting value with others thanks to the virtues of the internet.