World War Two – The Magnificent 60s

The Guns of Navarone (1961) *****

To celebrate this film now streaming on Netflix I thought i’d re-run a previous review.

Stone-cold action classic that blazed a trail for the big-budget men-on-a-mission war picture like The Dirty Dozen (1967) and Where Eagles Dare (1968). Brilliantly structured, written and directed, and featuring a sea battle, storm, shipwreck, mountaineering, chase, interrogation scenes, infiltration of an impregnable fortress, a pair of romances, two traitors, and an awe-inspiring climax make this a candidate for one of the greatest war pictures ever made.

The set-up is simple. Knock out the gigantic guns at Navarone or two thousand men will perish. It’s mission impossible and the clock is ticking. You don’t know who to trust and the enemy is ruthless.

In the early days of the all-star-cast, producer Carl Foreman rounded up an astonishing line-up, bulking out the bestseller by Scottish thriller maestro Alistair Maclean (The Secret Ways, 1961) with three top stars in five-time Oscar nominee Gregory Peck (The Big Country, 1958), double Oscar-winner Anthony Quinn (Heller in Pink Tights, 1960) and Oscar-winner David Niven (Please Don’t Eat the Daisies, 1960). Add in British household names Anthony Quayle (Ice Cold in Alex, 1958), Stanley Baker (The Concrete Jungle, 1960) and James Robertson Justice (Doctor in Love, 1960), a sprinkling of rising stars in James Darren (Let No Man Write My Epitaph, 1960), Gia Scala (I Aim at the Stars, 1960) and Richard Harris (The Night Fighters, 1960) and renowned Greek actress Irene Papas (Antigone, 1961).

Each man is a specialist. Capt. Mallory (Gregory Peck) the mountaineer whose climbing skills are essential to completing the fist part of the mission, explosives expert Corporal Miller (David Niven), mechanic ‘Butcher’ Brown (Stanley Baker), Greek patriot Stavrou (Anthony Quinn) and the ruthless killer Pappadimos (James Darren) who has the contact with the Greek resistance. The stakes are ramped up when we learn both Mallory and Stavrou have bounties on their heads, not to mention the fact they are sworn enemies, and that before the mission even gets under way, spies are discovered in the camp. The ostensible leader of the group Major Franklin (Anthony Quayle) is wounded early on, turning him into a liability and making Mallory the de facto leader.

The stakes are ramped up further – this time through relationships. Their Greek contact turns out to be a woman, Maria (Irene Papas), brother of Pappadimos. She brings with her a mute girl Anna (Gia Scala) for whom Mallory develops romantic feelings while Stavrou has eyes for Maria. Mallory is also torn about Franklin, his best friend.

And from there it pitches into one disaster after another. They are too easily hunted by the Germans. They are shelled with mortars and attacked by dive bombers as they race across open mountains and through caves to reach their destination. They have to shoot their way out of traps and finagle their way into the fortress. There are twists and turns all the way, the clock ticking in almost James-Bond-style as the deadline for the destruction of the troops approaches.

And although this is clearly a war picture it is also as obviously an anti-war one, no end to the killing in sight, people dying pointlessly.

Although the acting was ignored come Oscar time, each of the stars delivers and it is a communal tour de force. Director J. Lee Thompson (Ice Cold in Alex) ensures that in visual terms none of the stars dominates, each given equal screen time while the strong supporting cast each has their own narrative arc. With over two-and-half-hours’ running time, Thompson has both the bonus of time to allow each element to be fully played out and the problem of keeping the picture taut and he succeeds brilliantly in both aims. It is a masterpiece of suspense. And it looked fabulous, the guns themselves, by which the picture might succeed or fail, were awesome.

Thompson was Oscar-nominated as was producer Carl Foreman for both Best Picture and the screenplay, Dmitri Tiomkin for the score (one of the longest-ever), John Cox for sound, Alan Osbiston for editing. Bill Warrington who did the visual special effects and Chris Greenham who did the sound effects were the only winners on the night.

It was a commercial smash, top picture of the year in the U.S., the biggest picture of all time at the British box office and breaking records all over the world.

The Bridge at Remagen (1969) ****

Superior war film, somewhat underrated. Not just realistic battle scenes, but realistically weary soldiers and taking an even-handed approach to war in the manner of Battle of the Bulge (1965). The Americans want to destroy the bridge to trap 75,000 German soldiers on the wrong side of the Rhine, the German Major Krueger (Robert Vaughn) overrides his orders to also destroy the bridge and prevent the Allies with a direct route to Berlin. Instead with depleted forces – think Zulu (1963) – and hugely outnumbered he attempts to keep the bridge open so the cornered Germans can escape.

Unlike most war films there’s no time for comedy to lighten the spirits, it’s gruelling non-stop action. Even when the advance company, headed by grizzled Lt. Hartman (George Segal) find an abandoned village where the exhausted squad could rest up for a bit, they are ordered to keep going until they find more enemy to engage. Unlike the humane Krueger, the Allied high command are merciless, gung-ho Major Barnes (Bradford Dillman) and glory-hunter Brigadier Shinner (E.G. Marshall) drive their troops on, the latter not bothered how many of his men die in an attempt to blow up the bridge – “it’s a crap shoot” is the closest he gets to apology, claiming his actions will shorten the war.

When Allied attempts to blow the bridge fail and with the enemy so close Krueger has to proceed with detonating the explosives littering the bridge and that plan is also scuppered, it’s a battle to the death to secure the crossing. And the story itself is accentuated by nods to the grisly cost of war – on both sides. Heartless Sgt Gazzaro (Ben Gazzaro), whose freebooting Hartman despises, is brought up short when he kills a youth commandeered into action by Krueger in a bid to bolster his meagre outfit – barely 200 men when he expected a force of around 1600. Krueger is sickened to see a German firing squad executing deserters, but has little sympathy for an innkeeper who has lost a son to the fighting when four million Germans are already dead.

While reining in the worst excesses of Angelo, preventing him taking advantage of a captured woman (Anna Gael) and refusing himself to accept her offer of sex, Hartman does not rail (like Patton, 1970) against those of his men who succumb to pressure. Finding one soldier collapsed, he sympathizes, “sometimes it hits you like that,” and he refuses to put his men in unnecessary line of fire, prompting Barnes into almost killing him. Unlike Battle of the Bulge, however, there is no arrogant German commander (like Robert Shaw) nor complacent Americans.

The action is not only non-stop but hectic and the film begins brilliantly with tracking cameras scarcely able to keep up with American tanks barrelling along the road and aerial shots showing the destruction of another bridge over the Rhine. American tanks and German artillery exchange fire over the river. Buildings are blown out or majestically collapse (turns out these were real buildings, not mock-ups). Bridge stanchions fall in slow motion into the water. Refugees are collateral damage, the camera hardly registering a crying child or an abandoned doll.

As in the best war pictures, strategy and tactics are laid out for the audience, the American blunderbuss approach compares poorly to Krueger’s desperate attempts to utilise every advantage to the point of arming a barge in the river. Hartman and Krueger are well-matched in courage, the former thrown endlessly into action by cynical superiors, the latter, having discharged himself from hospital to fight on, landed with the task of rallying defeatist troops, and leading them into harm’s way in a manner that the American’s immediate superior, Barnes, point-blank refuses to do. Pride drives on the German, the war is almost lost, but surrender would be tantamount to humiliation. All Hartman has to fall back on is an inner core and the chain of command, soldiers obey orders.

Both George Segal (The Quiller Memorandum, 1966) and Robert Vaughn (The Venetian Affair, 1966) are well outside their acting comfort zone. Two stars whose hallmarks are cocky characters and suave charm turn into determined men who barely crack a smile. Segal has done cynical before but not to this degree and what catches the eye more is his sheer physical exhaustion. This is an early career highlight for Vaughn, rarely offered such juicy roles.

Although associated in the general audience mind for playing creepy, not to mention sleazy, characters, Ben Gazzara (Capone, 1975) had not made much impact on 1960s moviegoers, and beyond a handful of supporting roles best known to Americans for a starring role in television series Arrest and Trial (1963-1964). The general untrustworthy screen persona he would come to inhabit is given a good work-out here except for two scenes where his character takes unselfish action. Bradford Dillman, also best known for television (Court Martial, 1965-1966), portrays a largely one-dimension character lifted out of the ordinary in a couple of scenes.

E.G. Marshall (The Defenders, 1961-1965) and Peter Van Eyck (Station Six Sahara, 1963) are the opposing commanders. You can also spot Hans Christian Blech (Battle of the Bulge), Anna Gael (Therese and Isabelle, 1968), Sonja Zieman (The Secret Ways, 1961) and Bo Hopkins (The Wild Bunch, 1969).

John Guillermin (The Blue Max, 1966) directs with aplomb from a screenplay by William Roberts (The Devil’s Brigade, 1968) and novelist Richard Yates (Revolutionary Road, 2008) in his only work for the screen.

None but the Brave (1965) *****

Frank Sinatra’s sole stab at direction is an astonishing piece of work and deserves to be revisited in a more positive frame of mind than it encountered on original release. Maybe critical acclaim depends on your name, and most critics were already tearing into Ol’ Blue Eyes because his acting in the 1960s scarcely matched his work in the 1950s – From Here to Eternity (1953), The Man with the Golden Arm (1955), Guys and Dolls (1955), High Society (1956) and Pal Joey (1957).

On the other hand critics were all over themselves when John Boorman and Clint Eastwood went down a similar route in Hell in the Pacific (1968) and the double header Flags of Our Fathers (2006) and Letters from Iwo Jima (2006), respectively, and American audiences griped about the even-handedness of Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970).

Not only is this primarily presented from the Japanese point-of-view, opening and closing with scenes involving the Japanese, but it is not so much even-handed as presenting the opposing sides in exactly the same manner, so that the “enemy” is never viewed as such but as a rag-tag collection of ordinary men thrust into warfare.

While there’s certainly courage on show, there’s also more than a war movie’s normal share of rashness and stupidity, disobedience, the flouting of orders, the challenging of the line of command and that taboo subject – death from friendly fire. There are clever maneuvers and outwitting the opposition.

The composition of both sides could be echoes of each other. Both have calm leaders in Capt Dennis Bourke (Clint Walker) and Lt Kuroki (Tatsuya Mihashi) who both struggle to keep in line intemperate subordinates, Second Lieut Blair (Tommy Sands) and Sgt Tamuro (Takeshi Kato) who tend to issue orders at a scream and in the latter instance with a slap in the face. Both lieutenant and sergeant, career soldiers, bristle at having to accept orders from less experienced officers.

None of the recruits are worth a button as soldiers. On the Japanese side we have a Buddhist priest, on the American side guys who wouldn’t recognize a trap even when they fell into it. Bourke also has to contend with loudmouth Sgt Bleeker (Brad Dexter), itching to start a fight.

The Americans have one trump card – and it’s not weaponry. They have someone with the medical skill to save a badly wounded Japanese soldier. And although he’s only a pharmacist (Frank Sinatra) he’s got enough knowledge to carry out an amputation. The Japanese have their own trump cards – food and water. And the two leaders effect a truce. You know it won’t last, of course, which leads to a savage ending, though a touching climax.

There’s plenty action, more than you might expect, since generally in this kind of war movie we spend ages getting to know the soldiers long before there’s any reason to fire a shot or explode a bomb. All we know about the Americans is that they shouldn’t be here, they were flying elsewhere when their plane crash-landed on a remote island they believe is unoccupied. All we know about the Japs is that they’re trying to get off the island by building a boat.

Foolish soldiers on either side upset the leader’s strategies so the bullets soon fly. The Japanese on sighting an American warship cruising close by have the cleverest notion, running up a Japanese flag, which the sailors take to mean the island is under Japanese control and begin a bombardment which kills Americans. The Yanks, on the other hand, manage to steal the Japanese boat, but only for a short time before a grenade puts paid to any notions of escape.

In most war movies that pay any attention to the lives of the soldiers, that usually concentrates on sentiment, women left behind, families abandoned and so forth and while this strays into that territory once, the bulk of the time we see character revealed by current action, which is a more difficult thing to achieve, but far more rewarding.

Given his duties behind the camera, Frank Sinatra (Robin and the 7 Hoods, 1964) wisely plays a largely supporting role, restricted to the occasional wisecrack, but allocated one big central scene so that audiences don’t feel they’ve not had their money’s worth. But, actually, he relinquishes the most important scene to someone else. An armed American soldier coming across an unarmed half-naked Japanese who has been catching fish can’t bring himself to shoot him because you shouldn’t shoot a good fisherman.

There’s not much in the way of visuals or composition to write home about, but this film didn’t require such virtuosity, the director more than makes it work by sticking to the knitting, and concentrating on the humanity and refusing to allow the enemy to be portrayed as such.

Clint Walker (Sam Whiskey, 1969) and Tatsuya Mihashi (Tora! Tora! Tora!) carry the picture effortlessly while their rebellious underlings, singer Tommy Sands (Ensign Pulver, 1964) and Takeshi Kato (Yojimbo, 1961) do their best to steal the picture. Look out for Brad Dexter (The Magnificent Seven, 1960) and future producer Tony Bill (The Sting, 1973).

Written by John Twist (A Distant Trumpet, 1964), Katsuya Susaki (Way Out, Way In, 1970) and the film’s producer Kikumaru Okuda.

Not to be missed. A war classic.

The Best of Enemies (1961) ***

When we talk about realistic war movies, we generally mean ones chock-full of brutality and violence. But there was another reality rarely touched upon, and that was guys to trying to get through the whole shooting match without getting killed. Not cowards, necessarily, but people unwilling to take stupid action in the guise of blind obedience.

This ends up being a highly unusual and hence highly original take on the war picture. Where, in another film, enemies might duel fiercely to the death, attempting to outwit each other at every turn, this delivers on a more emotional, thoughtful, and human, level.

You wouldn’t have thought, either, that the combination of two wildly different humor codes, the more overt Italian and the laid-back British, would work. So in subject matter and style, this takes a helluva risk. Much of the effect rides on exposing as misleading the standard tropes regarding the different countries – that the Italians are weak and that Brits, feelings numbed by stiff upper lip and upbringing, never complain.

Major Richardson (David Niven), reconnaissance plane shot down in Italian-held Abyssinia (Ethiopia) in 1941 in World War Two, is captured in the desert by a unit led by Captain Blasio (Alberto Sordi). Blasio doesn’t want the responsibility of prisoners and encourages Richardson to escape, hoping that the Brit, taking note of how weak the Italian unit was, would leave them alone.

The opposite is true. The Brits would like nothing better than to capture a weak section of the Italian Army. So Richardson, leading a stronger unit with tanks and stuff, confronts the Italian who is furious that the man he let go has somehow reneged on an unwritten code of honor and come back. Using a simple ruse, the Italians escape.

The Brits nearly catch up with them several times but incompetence gets in the way. Then Blasio gets annoyed with some of his natives and cuts them loose and in revenge they start a fire that drives both Brits and Italians together. Blasio is happy to surrender since that means the Brits, devoid of transport after the fire, have to holster Italian rifles and carry on a stretcher any Italian, such as Blasio himself, who falls ill.

The enemies unite to escape an interfering native tribe but then Blasio gets the hump at Richardson once again, returning the Italians to prisoner status once they are free. Hiding out in an abandoned village, the Italians are put to work building latrines – and according to the British class system different ones for officers and soldiers. A bid by Blasio to put Richardson in his place misfires. The two units bond again over a game of football and when the tribesmen return Richardson breaks the rules by handing back the Italians their rifles. Only thanks to British incompetence there’s no Italian ammo.

So then, weapon-less, and nobody apt to take sides, they stagger over the desert, directed by Richardson to safety. Richardson and Blasio bond over wives and family. But when they reach a proper road, Richardson reverts to the status quo and insists the prisoners form up at the rear. Except, he’s got it all wrong and they have ended up in the Italian-controlled zone. Blasio can’t contain his delight, mocking the Brits, but not taking them prisoner. Except he’s got it wrong, too, as the desert campaign is over and the Brits are victorious.

It doesn’t end well for either officer. Richardson is threatened with being put in the catering corps, Blasio a bedraggled prisoner. But it finishes on an uplifting moment, Richardson instructs his men to present arms to the prisoners, indicating their mutual respect.

So, as I said, nothing like your usual war movie. Both commanders are incompetent. Richardson despises Blasio for not “putting any effort” into his job. Blasio can’t understand why Richardson takes the job so seriously. Even if it marked him down as a coward, Blasio’s wife just wants him home safe. Incompetence rules, mistakes are legion, and pettiness guides the action of the officers. Movie makers of the period tended to concentrate on the heroism of war, but there must have been a ton of expeditions like this that went awry.

The script allows both David Niven (Bedtime Story, 1964) and Alberto Sordi (Anzio, 1968) considerable latitude, the Englishman afforded a wider range than usual, the Italian encouraged to tone down the over-acting, so each turns in a more measured performance. Sordi was nominated for a Golden Globe and the movie was nominated for two other Globes including Best Foreign Film.

The supporting cast includes Michael Wilding (The Sweet Ride, 1968), Harry Andrews (The Hill, 1965) and David Opatoshu (Guns of Darkness, 1962).

Directed by Guy Hamilton (Battle of Britain, 1969) from a screenplay by Jack Pulman (The Executioner, 1970).

More rewarding and emotionally satisfying than I expected.

What Did You Do in the War, Daddy? (1966) **

How on earth did James Coburn get mixed up in this mess? I’m assuming that having suddenly been elevated from supporting actor to top billing as a result of Our Man Flint (1966) he took the first job that came along that reflected his ideas about salary. Director Blake Edwards was, to some extent, at something of a loose end. United Artists had passed on The Great Race (1965) and another project with the director had fallen by the wayside. Apparently, this movie was the result of a question asked by his son. During World War Two, Edwards had served in the U.S. Coastguard which meant he did not see active service though did suffer a back injury. Writer William Peter Blatty (A Shot in the Dark, 1964) was too young for World War Two and though he joined the US Air Force he didn’t see active service either, being employed in the psychological warfare division.

So this exercise wasn’t going to be based on personal experience. The mid-1960s wouldn’t exactly lend itself to poking fun at war, although Vietnam was fair game.

You might have thought Coburn, on reading the script, would have realized he’s not much in the movie for the first 20 minutes or so and then is at the mercy of a bundle of subplots.

During the invasion of Sicily in 1943, stickler for discipline Captain Cash (Dick Shawn) is handed command of a disorganized unit headed by Lt Christian (James Coburn) and instructed to take a strategic village from the Germans. Turns out the enemy is long gone and the resident Italian soldiers, commanded by Capt Oppo (Sergio Fantoni), are only too happy to surrender as long as they can continue to enjoy la dolce vita which in this case involves an annual wine festival. Most of the early part of the picture revolves around getting Cash to loosen up, and after imbibing copious amounts of liquor and being seduced by the mayor’s daughter Gina (Giovanni Ralli) he relents.

There are only two obstacles to the merry party. Oppo objects to his girlfriend Gina being used as a makeweight to make Cash see things the Italian way and Cash’s boss General Bolt (Carroll O’Connor) asks to see proof of their success. So, since not a shot has been fired and they can’t boast of a camp full of Italian POWs, they decide to invent the proof and start filming phoney footage. Bolt reckons they need support and sends up reinforcements. Which is just as well because the Germans, either realizing what they’ve been missing or being nudged back into action, decide to reappear. And given the slovenly chaotic opposition it’s not hard for them to re-take control of the town which results in Cash hiding out in drag.

Theoretically, it’s a reasonable idea. There’s been no shortage of swindlers or con-men or black marketeers in war movies – think James Garner in The Great Escape (1963) and The Americanization of Emily (1964) – and various armies have been filled with shysters ranging from Sgt Bilko to the shifty recruits in British films up to all sorts of wheezes or doing their best to stay out of the line of fire.

But once the point has been made that it’s better to make love not war and drink as much wine as possible and become friends with the enemy, the point is made over and over again. There isn’t a single joke that isn’t belaboured and not many laffs to begin with. Going over-the-top is fine for slapstick like The Great Race but it doesn’t work here.

James Coburn has too little to do and Dick Shawn (A Very Special Favor, 1965) too much. Giovanni Ralli (Deadfall, 1968) and Sergio Fantoni (Hornet’s Nest, 1970 ) are wasted. Carroll O’Connor (Warning Shot, 1966) is the pick of a supporting cast that includes Aldo Ray (The Power, 1968) and Harry Morgan (The Mountain Road, 1960) but that’s only because he has a clever reversal of a role as a general who wants to be treated as an individual.

I should point out this has something of a cult following but I won’t be joining the fan club.

Must have seemed a good idea at the time.

Ambush Bay (1966) ****

I’m going out on a limb on this one. I don’t think anyone’s done anything but give it a cursory examination and mark it down as a standard programmer of the era. But I saw a lot that was considerably impactful.

Generally speaking, although the war picture had gradually shifted from the gung-ho to the more realistic (Operation Crossbow, 1965, Von Ryan’s Express, 1965), it’s generally accepted that it was The Dirty Dozen (1967), Beach Red (1967) and Play Dirty (1968) that ushered in the new era of authenticity and violence.

Oddly enough, this little picture, minus the bloodletting, was the bridge. It’s way tougher than you would expect for a low-budget picture only ever intended to fill out the lower half of a double bill and never going to catch the eye of a critic hoping to find an unknown movie to punt.

Let’s start with the ruthlessness. A bunch of Yanks on a secret mission in the Philippines are hounded by Japanese soldiers. At their first encounter, knives are the weapon of choice so as not to attract attention. We don’t see the knives going in but we hear them slicing into flesh. They capture one of the enemy who begs to be taken prisoner but nobody’s got time to bother with such niceties so they tie him to a tree and come morning he’s dead. Rather than give away their own position, they don’t fire on the pursuing Japanese which results in one of their own being killed. A female American-born Japanese spy, convinced her natural charms can distract the Japanese, volunteers at one point to stay behind, even if that means becoming the sexual plaything of the Japanese commander and then passed on to his men. And when that ploy fails she is ruthlessly sacrificed.

There are other narrative reversals. The Dirty Dozen, for example, begins with a lengthy introduction to each of the condemned men. Here, as the team prepare to land on the Philippines, we are introduced, via voice-over, to each of the team. And then you learn that the real reason for this is that we’ll count up the number of men in the group and become aware that they are gradually being whittled away.

And then there’s the voice-over itself. This not being one of those post-modernist numbers where the narrator is speaking from beyond the grave, audiences know that a narrator is a survivor. But what they’re not going to guess is that he’ll be the only survivor.

Or that he least deserves to survive. Private Grenier (James Mitchum) is a rookie – “six months ago he was stacking shoe boxes” – and he’s truculent and troublesome. His only job is to keep the radio safe, excused fighting duties so that he can broadcast to the waiting General MacArthur the outcome of the mission. But he’s as useless at guarding the radio as he is at everything else and the radio is shot to pieces. He’s so dumb he doesn’t realize the purpose of a Japanese tea house.

There’s not an ounce of the gung-ho. The dialog is delivered in an undertone. Nobody makes a meal of any line of dialog no matter ho juicy. Everything undercuts. When Commander Sgt Corey (Hugh O’Brian) plans to go into serious harm’s way his number two Sgt Wartell (Mickey Rooney) asks what will happen if he doesn’t come back. In matter-of-fact tones, but without the snap of someone thinking he’s delivering a great line, Corey replies, “You get a field promotion and an extra eight bucks a month.”

The Ambush Bay of the title is supremely ironic. It’s the Americans who are going to be ambushed. The Japanese have seeded the sea-bed of the beach where they guess the Americans are going to land with mines. Nothing unusual there. Minesweepers will clear the path. Except these are unusual mines, anchored to the seabed and only loosened by remote control by the enemy.

The initial mission is just to locate the aforementioned spy Miyazaki (Tisa Chang) who turns out to be a sought-after sex worker in the tea house. But when the radio is out of action, they have to disable the radio tower controlling the mines. By this point they’re down to just two men, Corey and Grenier.

Grenier has the ingenious plan of draining fuel from a truck to make a Molotov cocktail, toss it into a fuel dump and in the confusion make their way to the radio tower. Even at this late stage, reversals come thick and fast. Great idea – you got a match? Nope. But the lorry driver is smoking. He discards a lighted cigarette. But when he gets out of his cab he grinds the cigarette with his foot. Luckily, they can revive it.

All the way the dialog is like loaded dice. “Idiot,” muses Grenier, “that’s the nicest thing he’s said to me.”

Miyazaki has some choice lines. “If you’re dead that won’t help me.” And, encountering Corey’s disbelief at her gender, “Suppose I refused to believe you were my contact.” And in the understated manner of every individual, of the leering Japanese commander, she notes, “He desires me, I think that’s the phrase.”

Visually, this isn’t littered with gems. Most of the visuals are under-stated, brutality generally off-camera but there’s one unforgettable scene. The Japanese commander, having been distracted by Miyazaki puts his pistol in his holster. A few minutes later, realizing he has been duped, he takes it out of its holster.

Hugh O’Brian (Ten Little Indians, 1965) is superb as the non-scene-stealer-in-chief. Mickey Rooney (The Secret Invasion, 1964) has less opportunity for grandstanding than in most of his pictures. And surely this is the recently-deceased James Mitchum’s (In Harm’s Way, 1965) best role, as he shifts from amateur to professional. If you’re looking for an understated scene-stealer Tisa Chang (better known for her stage work – she only appeared in five films) is choice.

Directed by Ron Winston (Banning, 1967) from a script by Ib Melchior (Planet of the Vampires, 1965) and Marve Feinberg in his debut.

The lowest-budgeted film, just $640,000, in the 1966 release schedule of United Artists, on a cost-to-profit scale this proved one of its most successful pictures hammering out $1.7 million in rentals.

Worth going out on a limb for.

Battle of Midway (1976) ****

Even-handed documentary-style tale recounting of the most famous U.S. naval battle of all time, a turning point in the struggle for control of the Pacific in 1942. Both sides make mistakes, luck and judgement play an equal part.

I’d always assumed Midway was some abstract geographical position without any idea of its strategic importance – did the name mean it was halfway between the U.S. (or Hawaii) and Japan? But here I learned it was an actual island that the Japs planned to invade and the Americans intended to stop them. In some senses, it was bait, a way to draw the U.S. Navy out of Pearl Harbor. But the bait ran both ways. If the Yanks could coax the enemy out into the Pacific, they had a chance of gaining an advantage, even though the Americans were inferior in shipping tonnage.

The Japs have been stung into action by the audacious American bombing of Tokyo. Admiral Yamamoto (Toshiro Mifune) uses the perceived threat of further attacks to gain official approval for his plan to invade Midway.

This is strictly a male show. However, in a bid to lower the testosterone levels a romantic subplot is inserted. The aviator son, Lt Thomas Garth (Eddie Albert), of top aide and former pilot Captain Matthew Garth (Charlton Heston) has an American-born lover Haruko (Christina Kobuko) of Japanese descent who’s being investigated for espionage and subsequently interned. On intervening, the father digs up a hodgepodge of racism – from both sides, Haruko’s parents against her forming a relationship with a non-Japanese. But the plan backfires causing a breakdown between father and son.

But that’s very much on the fringes and although it raises interesting cultural aspects, the movie concentrates mostly on the nuts-and-bolts of heading into a major engagement.

American intelligence, headed by Commander Joe Rochefort (Hal Holbrook), gets wind of the planned attack. But the clues are scant – the old trope of increased radio traffic not enough to convince – and while the audience knows the Japs are on the move with a mighty naval force including four top-class airplane carriers, the Americans remain ignorant almost until it’s too late.

Luckily, Admiral Nimitz (Henry Fonda), heading up the American naval contingent, is keen to inflict a blow on the enemy, even though he’s limited to two carriers and another just out of the repair yard. Each side relies on spotter planes to detect the enemy. But the Japanese, by imposing radio silence, shoot themselves in the foot, unable to switch tactics until too late. The hunch plays an important part.

There’s rarely much opportunity for individual heroics on a ship under fire, beyond rescuing someone. The fighter pilots are a better bet, especially since some of their forays are nearly suicidal given the firepower they attract. Matt Garth, who for most of the picture is an upscale backroom boy, is called into action with unexpected results.

Most battle films tend to concentrate on the heroics often at the expense of understanding in any detail what’s going on. Thankfully, this is different. We are kept informed of every change in the conflict. And whereas you might think that dull, in fact I wouldargue that it adds substantially to the tension, and the fact that the only one of the commanders who looks as if he could throw a punch (Robert Mitchum) in the manner of John Wayne is confined to his bed thus forcing the movie to concentrate as much on brain as brawn.

Audiences at the time welcomed all the talking and this was a substantial hit. Snippets of old war footage were carefully sewn into the lining of the action, bringing the kind of authenticity that moviemakers reckoned moviegoers craved. For me, there was more than enough going on already.

Nimitz’s decision to go for broke rather than dive for cover results in victory but he’s no gung-ho commander, rather presented as a thoughtful but determined individual. The lack of backstage effort especially in the communications department was partly to blame for the humiliation of Pearl Harbor but here these guys share the glory.

Boasting the kind of all-star cast that used to be the hallmark of the 1960s roadshow, this has a bunch of top-notch actors, albeit most just flit in and out of the picture. Charlton Heston (Planet of the Apes, 1968) effortlessly shoulders the main burden with Henry Fonda (Once Upon a Time in the West, 1969) the fulcrum of all decision-making. Robert Mitchum (The Way West, 1967) , James Coburn (Our Man Flint, 1966), Glenn Ford (Rage, 1966), Cliff Robertson (The Devil’s Brigade, 1968) and Toshiro Mifune (Red Sun, 1971) all feature.

Jack Smight (Harper / The Moving Target, 1966) directs from a script by Donald S Sanford (Mosquito Squadron, 1969).

Thoroughly engrossing.

I’m doing a Behind the Scenes tomorrow.

Behind the Scenes: United Artists Goes to War on a Low Budget – “Submarine X-1” (1968) and Five Others

With the contraction of Hollywood production in the 1960s, cinemas worldwide were always crying for pictures – any pictures – that could take up a weekly slot or pad out a double bill. (The single-bill programming that is standard these days was not welcome in most cinemas, except a prestigious few, and audiences expected to see two movies for the price of their ticket). Indie unit Mirisch had scored such a big hit with aerial war number 633 Squadron (1964) – it recouped its entire cost from British distribution so was in profit for the rest of its global run – that Walter Mirisch persuaded distribution partner United Artists to attempt to capitalize on the idea and thus set in progress a series of war pictures to be made in Britain.

There would be cost savings through the Eady Plan. Each film would have a “recognizable American personality in the lead” and have American directors. Budgets would be held under $1 million. Half a dozen movies were planned, the first appearing in 1967, the last in 1970.

Quite whether James Caan (Red Line 7000, 1965) passed muster as a well-known enough star to qualify as a “personality” at the time he headlined Submarine X-1 (1968) is debatable, as was the presence of James Franciscus (The Valley of Gwangi, 1969) in Hell Boats (1970) and Christopher George (Massacre Harbor, 1968) in The Thousand Plane Raid (1969) though Stuart Whitman (Rio Conchos, 1964) exerted a higher marquee appeal for The Last Escape (1970). Veteran Lloyd Bridges (Around the World under the Sea, 1966) who headlined Attack on the Iron Coast (1968) was probably the best known, but these days that was mostly through television. And David McCallum owed whatever fame he had to television as part of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. double act and the idea that would still be enough to attract an audience for Mosquito Squadron (1969) seemed dubious.

Beyond setting up the project, Walter Mirisch had little to do with the actual production, putting that in the hands of Oakmont Production, which beefed up the action with judicious use of footage from other pictures. Invariably, reasons had to be given to explain why actors with American accents were members of the British fighting forces – most commonly they were represented as Canadian volunteers or might have British nationality by dint of having a British mother.

Storylines followed a similar template. At its heart was a dangerous mission. Leaders were invariably hated for some previous misdemeanor or because they were ruthless and drove the men too hard. If there was romance – not a given – it would border on the illicit. And someone required redemption.

And while none of the stars chose – or were chosen to – repeat the experience, Oakmont established something of a repertory company behind the scenes, writers, directors and producers involved in more than one movie.

*Italian poster (photobusta) for “Hell Boats”. I found Japanese and Australian posters*
*for most of the films in the series*.

Boris Sagal (Made in Paris, 1966) directed both The Thousand Plane Raid and Mosquito Squadron and then made his name with The Omega Man (1971). Paul Wendkos (Angel Baby, 1961) helmed Attack on the Iron Coast and Hell Boats. Walter Grauman who had kicked off the whole shebang with 633 Squadron returned for The Last Escape. William Graham (Waterhole #3, 1967) as the only outlier with just Submarine X-1 to his name.

Veteran producer Lewis Rachmil (A Rage to Live, 1965) oversaw three in the series – Hell Boats, Mosquito Squadron and The Thousand Plane Raid. Another veteran John C. Champion, younger brother of celebrated Broadway choreographer Gower Champion, was involved in a variety of categories. Champion is almost an asterisk these days, best known these days for producing the film Zero Hour! (1957) that inspired disaster parody Airplane! (1980). He was only 25 when he produced his first picture, low-budget western Panhandle (1948). He was behind another four low-budget westerns pictures before Zero Hour!, which had a decent cast in Dana Andrews and Linda Darnell. But that was his last movie for nine years as he switched to television and Laramie (1959-1963), barely reviving his movie career with The Texican (1966) starring Audie Murphy.

He produced Attack on the Iron Coast and Submarine X-1 and was credited with the story for both plus The Last Escape. Irving Temaner produced The Last Escape and received an executive producer credit on Attack on the Iron Coast and Submarine X-1. Donald Sanford (Battle of Midway, 1976) was the most prolific of the writers, gaining screenplay credits for Submarine X-1, The Thousand Plane Raid and Mosquito Squadron. Herman Hoffman (Guns of the Magnificent Seven) wrote Attack on the Iron Coast and The Last Escape.

Cinema managers were not, it transpired, queuing up for the product. Most commonly, when reviewed in the British trade press, their release date was stated as “not fixed” which generally meant that United Artists was hoping the review would do the trick and alert cinema owners.

In the United States, they rarely featured in the weekly box office reports, though Portland in Oregon appeared partial to the product, Attack on the Iron Coast appearing there as support to Hang ‘Em High (1968), Mosquito Squadron supported The Christine Jorgensen Story (1970), Hell Boats supported Lee Van Cleef western Barquero (1970) while The Last Escape supported Mick Jagger as Ned Kelly (1970). To everyone’s astonishment a double bill of Hell Boats / The Last Escape reported a “big” $10,000 in San Francisco, but that proved an anomaly.

In Britain, the movies fulfilled their purpose as programmers, not good enough to qualify as a proper double bill, but accepted as supporting feature for a circuit release on the Odeon chain. Since UA supplied Odeon with its main features, it proved relatively easy to persuade the circuit to take the war films to fill out a program. This kind of second feature would be sold for a fixed price not sharing in the box office gross. However, they were given the kind of all-action poster they hardly deserved.

So in 1968 Attack on the Iron Coast went out with The Beatles Yellow Submarine. In 1969, Submarine X-1 supported slick heist picture The Thomas Crown Affair, which with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway in top form scarcely needed any help securing an audience. Hell Boats was supporting feature in 1970 to Master of the Islands (as The Hawaiians starring Charlton Heston was known). As well as accompanying it on the circuit Mosquito Squadron in 1970 made a very brief foray into London’s West End with thriller I Start Counting and then reappeared a few months later as an alternative choice of support for Billy Wilder flop The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes. If you went to see Burt Lancaster western Lawman in 1971 you might have caught The Last Escape – equally it could have been If It’s Tuesday, It Must Be Belgium (cinema managers could choose either).

United Artists, under the financial cost in the early 1970s, pulled the plug on “programmers” such as these. Walter Mirisch in his biography, disingenuously suggested that the six movies had done relatively well. But that wasn’t supported by the studio’s own figures.

Collectively, they made a loss of $1.7 million. Only Attack on the Iron Coast made it into the black and then by only $59,000. Hell Boats lost $700,000. None of the movies earned more than $200,000 in rentals in the United States.

Although Mirisch managed to keep budgets down to around the million-dollar mark, they would have had to be much smaller to see a profit. Ironically, it was the cheapest, Attack on the Iron Coast costing $901,000, that made the most. Submarine X-1 lost $150,000 on a $1 million budget, Mosquito Squadron lost $253,000 on a $1.1 million budget while The Thousand Plane Raid lost $50,000 more on the same budget. The longer the series went on, the worse the losses – The Last Escape lost $449,000 on a $995,000 budget while for Hell Boats the budget was $1.36 million.

SOURCES: United Artists Archives, University of Wisconsin; Walter Mirisch, I Thought We Were Making Movies, Not History (University of Wisconsin Press, 2008) p204; Reviews, Kine Weekly – Feb 9 1968, Aug 31 1969, January 1970, April 18 1970; “Flops Loss-Cutting,” Variety, August 26, 1970, p6; “Picture Grosses,” Variety – March 13 1968, May 8 1968, April 24 1968, October 2 1968, June 10 1970, July 1 1970, July 8, 1970, August 12 1970, August 26 1970.

Submarine X-1 (1968) ***

One of the tropes of the World War Two mission picture was that it afforded plenty scope to boost the careers of supporting players – The Dirty Dozen (1967) being the best example given it boasted Charles Bronson, Ernest Borgnine, Donald Sutherland (the denoted breakout star), Jim Brown (another breakout) and Telly Savalas. Never mind that here you could hardly find an interesting face, never mind well-written character in this one, you were struggling to find the James Caan as defined by The Godfather (1972).

Even with production shrinking and the industry throwing more and more money at the actors who supposedly guaranteed box office, Hollywood was still trying to blood new talent. But most failed to connect – Burt Reynolds was another who took a helluva long time, by movie standards, to find a fanbase.

Though Caan had been chosen by Howard Hawks to headline Red Line 7000 (1965) that had sunk without trace and a supporting role in the director’s El Dorado (1967), while exposing him to a larger audience, had not, as yet, pushed him that far up the Hollywood tree, top billing in neither Robert Altman’s Countdown (1967) nor Games (1967) doing much to bolster his marquee credentials.

His career could go either way – fizz and pop in a part that provided the opportunity to create a defined screen persona or fizzle and die after using up too many Hollywood lives. We all know which way it went so this could be considered a testing ground. And he reins in his screen persona so much he could almost qualify for a Stiff Upper Lip Award.

As ever, Yanks in many World War Two pictures set in Britain had to come in disguise. Commander Bolton (James Caan) is acceptable in the Royal Navy if he’s Canadian and a volunteer rather than American, though you’d be hard put to distinguish the nationalities by Caan’s accent.

It was also a given of this type of war picture that the recruits hated their leader with a vengeance – Lee Marvin in The Dirty Dozen leading the field, though you could equally point to Frank Sinatra in Von Ryan’s Express (1965) – “why did 600 Allied prisoners hate the man they called Von Ryan more than they hated Hitler” ran the tagline – and William Holden in The Devil’s Brigade (1968). .

Here, Bolton is in hot water for obvious reasons. He was a poor leader, causing the deaths of the majority of his crew on the 50-man submarine Gauntlet after an ill-chosen attack on the German battleship Lindendorf. The movie starts with him and the remainder of the crew staggering out of the water onto dry land. Even when he’s cleared at a tribunal, the stench of incompetence sticks. So it’s any wonder that he’s put in charge of a secret operation with many of the survivors, unless of course it’s the kind of suicide mission that offers redemption.

As it takes forever to reveal, the British have built mini-subs, manned by three men, for a second go at the Lindendorf safely stowed out of the way in the Norwegian fjords. So apart from simmering resentment and mutterings everywhere, the first section is the standard training where, as is par for the course, Bolton is a hard-ass, forcing men dying of exhaustion back into the freezing water to complete the designated exercise.

Except for incipient rebellion, there’s not much else in the way of plot before we head for the fjords, not even a romance which might make an audience more sympathetic to Bolton. The Germans, somehow, have got wind of this secret mission taking place in a remote part of Scotland (Loch Ness, actually) and send in a parachute team.

On land it’s as dull as ditchwater, but once we head to sea, it’s a more than competent action picture.

If James Caan has learned anything from his first four pictures, it’s not obvious, as mostly what he does is grimace. The supporting stars look as if they knew from the outset that this wasn’t going to do anything for their careers – and with the exception of David Sumner (Out of the Fog, 1962), they made barely a scratch on the movie business.

It didn’t help that the naval operation had been filmed before as Above Us the Waves (1955) starring John Mills (S.O.S. Pacific, 1960) and directed by Ralph Thomas (Deadlier than the Male, 1967).

Directed by William Graham (The Doomsday Flight, 1966) who had just scored a surprising hit with Waterhole #3 (1967). Written by Donald Sanford (The 1,000 Plane Raid, 1969) and Guy Elmes (Kali-Yug, Goddess of Vengeance, 1963).

Torpedoed by the acting, only partially rescued by the action.

Five Branded Women (1960) ****

Should have qualified as that rare thing – an all-star female cast. Italian Silvana Mangano had led the arthouse revolution and kickstarted the importing of sexy Italians in international hit Bitter Rice (1949), Jeanne Moreau was a leading light in the French New Wave (and another sexy import to boot) as star of Les Liaisons Dangereuses/Dangerous Liaisons (1959), Vera Miles was hot after Psycho (1960), rising star Barbara Bel Geddes (Vertigo, 1958) another Hitchcock protegee. Never mind that the story was a serious one, the redemption of female collaborators in Yugoslavia in World War Two, there was still time for what had become very much a western genre cliché, the inability of any woman not to strip off at the sight of a waterfall – here all five go skinny dipping.

The narrative should have been clearcut as redemption tales generally are: miscreant finds salvation. But this one is pretty muddled up and the moral confusion gets in the way. While some of the women such as Ljubo (Jeanne Moreau) have sex with the occupying Germans to prevent a brother being sent to a work camp, others such as Jovanka (Silvana Mangano) simply fall in love or like widow Marja (Barbara Bel Geddes) are desperate for a child. All five have been conquests of German lothario Sgt Keller (Steve Forrest) who is castrated by the partisans. The women are humiliated by the partisans who shave their heads and the Germans cast them out of the town, Daniza (Vera Miles) part of the quintet though she denies having sex with Keller.

*Like “Deadly Companions” the marketeers major on the promise of female nudity in a pool.*

But it’s not just the Germans who are apt to have predatory notions about women. A pair of armed collaborators consider them fair game and attempt to rape Jovanka and Ljubo. Partisan Branko (Harry Guardino) – ostensibly in the category of good guy – attempts to rape Jovanka then seduces Daniza. The lovers are later executed by the partisans for breaking the rule not to have sex with each other. And this is where it gets mixed up. The pair were meant to be on guard when they started having sex. In consequence, three Germans sneaked into their camp and nearly caused disaster. Despite that, Jovanka, who believes she was unfairly treated in the first place in being denied love just because there was a war on, still insists that they shouldn’t be condemned for ordinary human desire.

The movie works best when it sticks to straightforward redemption or is character-driven. Given the chance Jovanka turns into an effective partisan, cutting down Germans with a machine gun, preventing rape of herself and Ljubo by shooting the attackers with a captured pistol. But she rejects an attempt at reconciliation by partisan leader Velko (Van Heflin), the one who had cut off her hair, blaming him for her unnecessary humiliation. He later tries to make amends, by trying to keep her out of brutal action.

Despite taking up arms, the women remain vulnerable to smooth-talking men. Ljubo takes prisoner Capt Reinhardt (Richard Basehart), who might fall into the “good German” category since he isn’t like Keller, was a professor of philosophy and generates sympathy because his wife died in an air raid. Taking his word of honor, Ljubo unties him. She thinks he will be exchanged for a partisan prisoner. But he knows the truth – there are no partisan prisoners available for exchange because the Germans kill them. So he tries to escape, and she machine guns him in the back.

By this point Ljubo is far from a soft touch, not likely to prattle on about women being free to love the enemy or their compatriots, and is the one who shoots Daniza as part of a firing squad when it is left to her or Jovanka to do so.

What saves it is the brutal realism of war, this predates the vengeful citizens who at war’s end would take revenge on local women who slept with any occupying Germans (Malena, 2000, showed this repercussion in Italy and it was the same throughout France). There’s certainly an innocence about female desire and Jovanka defending her right to have sex, though, surely, there would have been shame involved in having sex with even a Yugoslavian before marriage in what would still have been a devout country. So a complex defiant woman, refusing to bow down to male-enforced rules. But there’s a male corelative. Branko equally refuses to obey any rules, and his actions cause harm.

In terms of acting, Silvana Mangano and Jeanne Moreau are streets ahead of their American counterparts, and complement each other, Mangano loud and outspoken, Moreau quiet and brooding. Harry Guardino (Madigan, 1968), Richard Basehart (The Satan Bug, 1965) and Van Heflin (Once a Thief, 1965) are the pick of the males.

Martin Ritt (The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, 1965), who liked to back a cause, has chosen an odd one here, and after a slow start it picks up. Written by Ivo Perilli (Pontius Pilate, 1962) from the book by Ugo Pirro.

Easily leads the pack of the women-in-wartime subgenre and despite, or bcause of, the moral confusion still well worth a look.