Shirley Valentine's Patient Zero

Films: Summertime
Format: Streaming video from Kanopy on laptop.

When you think of David Lean, you probably think of epic films, but those films are from the end of his career. Lean’s last five films were epic in terms of length and most of them were epic in scope as well. Lean’s career contained smaller films, too; Brief Encounter stands out as a prime example, but the strength of The Bridge on the River Kwai, Doctor Zhivago, A Passage to India, and especially Lawrence of Arabia (and to a lesser extent Ryan’s Daughter) are what causes him to be remembered as a director of epics. Summertime is the last of his smaller, shorter movies, but with its exotic (for 1955) setting, it serves as a bridge between Lean’s earlier career and his later movies.

Summertime, based on a play called “The Time of the Cuckoo,” seems to have been tailor-made for Katherine Hepburn. Much like Lean is associated with epics, there is a particular kind of role that is easily associated with Hepburn. For a movie from then 1930s-1950s, any female character who has a strong independent streak, often living life on her own terms despite not being married (unusual for the time), Katherine Hepburn was your go-to. So, that’s exactly what we’re going to have here.

Not-So Brief Encounter

Film: Ryan’s Daughter
Format: DVD from NetFlix on laptop.

I’m going to do my best not to beat up on Ryan’s Daughter too much, but I gotta say that it’s a difficult temptation to resist. I consider myself a fan of David Lean in general in that I tend to like his films, even the really long ones. Ryan’s Daughter is going to be an exception, though. This is a movie that could have easily been told in the space of Brief Encounter that instead clocks in more at the length of Lawrence of Arabia. Including the intro and outro music as well as the entr’acte, Ryan’s Daughter runs just shy of 210 minutes, and this story could be told in 90 without too much difficulty.

That, more than anything, is the problem with the film. A film like the aforementioned Brief Encounter showed that Lean could tell a real story in a limited scope, since it runs just under 90 minutes. The nearly-four-hour Lawrence of Arabia demonstrates that Lean, when given the right material, could make a true epic that entertained for its entire length, incorporating the landscape as a character in and of itself. Ryan’s Daughter, on the other hand, is a story that is told in that grand epic style for which Lean became known despite being something much better told on the scale of a much smaller film, a problem Lean repeated about a decade and a half later with A Passage to India.

HMS Torrin

Film: In Which We Serve
Format: MGM HD Channel on rockin’ flatscreen.

A propaganda film is its own thing. On the positive side, we can get a solid drama that has the additional elements of nationalism and patriotic pride. On the downside, you get something that is little more than jingoist bukkake. Propaganda films run the gamut. The bad ones generally aren’t worth the film stock they are on, while good ones can truly stand the test of time. The other day, I recorded one of my favorites on the DVR. In Which We Serve seems to have a lot going against it on paper, but it finds a way to make it all work.

In Which We Serve is one of those movies that more or less starts at an important moment and then spends most of the movie flashing back. What’s most interesting here is that the flashbacks all come from the perspectives of multiple characters. We’re told at the beginning that this is the story of a ship. In this case the ship is the HMS Torrin, a British destroyer. We begin with the Torrin firing on German transport vessels, and then coming under attack from bombers. It’s not long for the ship, and she’s hit by a bomb and begins sinking. The men fight back as long as they can until they are ordered to abandon ship. A group of men swim to a float and hang on for dear life.

Mach One

Film: The Sound Barrier (Breaking the Sound Barrier; Breaking through the Sound Barrier)
Format: DVD from NetFlix on laptop.

A week ago, the only Ann Todd film I had seen was Things to Come and I can’t say I remember her in it at all. Here I am watching my second Ann Todd film in three days. Funny how this seems to happen. There’s something very striking about Ms. Todd. Every time I see her, I think she belongs in something produced by Val Lewton. I don’t know if it’s the way she’s lit in these films or the way she looks at the camera, but she belong in something like Cat People or I Walked with a Zombie. But here she is in The Sound Barrier (also called Breaking the Sound Barrier and Breaking through the Sound Barrier).

The Sound Barrier is an indubitably British film about, well, attempting to break the sound barrier. It’s not going to be a huge shock that the sound barrier gets broken here, but let’s also remember that this bit of British propaganda for jet aircraft is highly fictionalized. While it’s certainly true that British aircraft companies and pilots worked on the problem of getting past the speed of sound, The Sound Barrier definitely wants to imply that the British got there first. I have three words to say to that: Chuck Goddam Yeager.

My Expectations were Somewhat Less

Film: Great Expectations
Format: Streaming video from NetFlix on rockin’ flatscreen.

I should be up front when writing about Great Expectations. I’m not a fan of the writings of Charles Dickens. My mother is. This is a point of contention between us now and again. She touts Dickens, who I tend to think of as over-emotional and overwritten. I much prefer the work of Joseph Conrad, who my mother thinks is nothing but description, description, description. We’ll get to Conrad when I get around to Apocalypse Now; for today, it’s Dickens and all that that entails.

This is the story of Philip Pirrip (Anthony Wager as a boy, and John Mills as an adult), a name only Dickens could invent. Pip, as he is called, is an orphan living with his disagreeable sister (Freda Jackson) and her blacksmith husband Joe Gargery (Bernard Miles). As a lad, he encounters an escaped criminal named Abel Magwich (Finlay Currie). Pip helps him, but Magwich is recaptured. Not too long after that, Pip is summoned to the house of Miss Havisham (Martita Hunt).

The Seven Pillars of Wisdom

Film: Lawrence of Arabia
Format: DVD from personal collection on big ol’ television.

Epic films seem to come and go in waves. Every now and then, someone makes a great long film, and suddenly that’s what everyone wants to make. For a few years, all of the great films are three hours long or more, and a lot of the shitty ones are that long, too. At least until someone makes a tightly paced and controlled film of 90 minutes to show that it can still be done. Nobody did epic like David Lean did, though. While not all of his films are eternal in length, most of his great ones are. None is so great or so long as Lawrence of Arabia.

We start at the end of T.E. Lawrence’s life in a motorcycle accident. At his funeral, it appears that opinion on the man is rather mixed. Many consider him a great man and a hero while others are of the opinion that he was little more than a self-aggrandizing show off. The bulk of the film is the most important sequence of Lawrence’s life, which goes to essentially prove both that Lawrence was a great man and a supreme egotist.

Lawrence (Peter O’Toole) is a member of the British military during World War I, stationed in Cairo. Rather than fighting against the Germans, he is stuck essentially nursemaiding some British allies. He is transferred to Arabia to better understand the Arabian problem from the British perspective. The Arabian tribes are battling the Turks, and have only mobility on their side. The Turks have efficient and modern weapons including artillery and aircraft, which makes the life of the Turks difficult.

Lawrence learns of the harshness of the environment, both physical and political, first hand when his initial guide is killed by Sherif Ali (Omar Sharif) for drinking from a well that wasn’t his. The Arabs are at this point in history a splintered people, a collection of tribes who have at best uneasy alliances with each other, and at worst practice open war. Tribesman kills tribesman for water rights, leaving the entire population essentially at the mercy of the Turks.

Lawrence sees this as the biggest problem that the Arabs face. He sets about uniting them as best he can, winning over Prince Feisal (Alec Guinness) and using this influence to unite Sherif Ali with Auda Abu Tayi (Anthony Quinn). Lawrence leads men across the most severe and terrible desert so that his men can take the fortress town of Akaba from the land, claiming the guns there as well as the port.

And this, essentially, is the bulk of the film. Lawrence attempts to lead the Arabic people to unity and freedom, simultaneously battling the British interests in the region. His preference is for a free Arabia, a new power in the Middle East acting as a true nation of united people instead of a collection of warring tribes. In many cases, he feels he must bring this about against the will of everyone, including many of the Arab tribes.

There are a number of noteworthy things in this film. On the positive side is the incredible cinematography. This is a film that needs to be watched on a large screen, the larger the better. Much of what Lean wants to accomplish with this film is to show the severity of the landscape, so this is quite a bit of what we see. There are incredible long shots of the desert, often with a single distant rider slowly approaching. It would be easy for these shots to be boring, but they are not. Instead, they are starkly beautiful, even thrilling at times. Lean contrasts these long shots with intense close-ups of his principle actors. There’s a great juxtaposition of images here. The intensity of the interpersonal conflicts matches the intensity of the world in which these characters live.

Where I take issue with the film is in the casting. It’s nearly impossible to get too terribly upset about the actors in this film because they are all excellent, but it seems that the racism of the period has managed to filter into this film as well. Omar Sharif at least is of Arabic descent, but none of the other major Arab characters are. Guinness is pure British and Anthony Quinn is Irish-Mexican. And yet here they are playing Arab tribesmen. I find that difficult to stomach on some level.

While all of the major performances are great, it is O’Toole who makes the film, though. He plays Lawrence with true conviction. He is entirely believable as Lawrence because he believes himself to be Lawrence, and so we believe it, too.

Lawrence of Arabia is not a film to watch lightly. With the fill musical sections included, the film runs close to four hours long, making it a significant undertaking. This is not to discourage anyone from sitting down and taking this film in. It is a brilliant film from start to finish and entirely engaging. If nothing else, it is a brilliant example of a story in which the hero gets everything he desires and nothing at all at the same time. Lawrence is ultimately a tragic figure, but tragic through the faults of others and not his own.

Just make a lot of popcorn for this one, and plan your bathroom breaks carefully. You’ll need them.

Why to watch Lawrence of Arabia: Epic filmmaking at its greatest and most epic.
Why not to watch: I still don’t understand the casting.

The Most Accurate Name Ever

Film: Brief Encounter
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library on kick-ass portable DVD player.


Romance is not a genre I tend to favor. Actually, that’s only partly true. I genuinely dislike romantic comedies as a general rule, but I’ll watch a good romance if the mood strikes me. Note the operative word in that sentence: a good romance. So I gave David Lean’s first great movie, Brief Encounter a shot.

This story couldn’t be simpler or more classically romantic and tragic. Two married people meet, fall for each other, and then go their separate ways. This is not a spoiler—if you’re paying attention, you know exactly what is happening here in the first ten minutes of the film, since the entire story is shown in flashback.

In the central role is Celia Johnson as Laura Jesson, a simple housewife with a husband and two kids. She’s relatively well-to-do, spending her days in London doing the shopping, having lunch out and sometimes taking in a movie. She spends at least part of her day around the train station, and it is here that she meets Dr. Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard). Alec comes to her assistance when she gets something in her eye and he extracts it. Later the same day, they find themselves in the same crowded restaurant and share a table, then go to a movie together. They agree to meet at the same place a week later.

They continue to meet at the train platform and spend their Thursday afternoons together, and it soon becomes evident to both of them (and to us) that the two have fallen deeply for each other despite both being married. They both realize what has happened and the only real possible outcome for this love, but still it continues, because the two can’t stay away from each other.

The pair are discovered twice; first by a couple of her friends in a restaurant and then later when the pair retire to an apartment owned by one of Alec’s friends. Based on these two occurrences, Alec reaches a major decision in his life—to head to South Africa to help create a new hospital. They plan to make the most of the time they have left before he heads off half a world away. The immediate belief here is that the two will probably never see each other again, but if they do, it still will never be the same.

There’s a sense of tragedy around the pair, and we know right away that they are doomed from the start. We know nothing about Alec’s wife and kids. We know precious little about Laura’s kids, but we do see her husband a couple of times. He seems like a stereotype for wealthy and boring, which may well be the reason Laura consented to this sort of affair in the first place, because of her desire for something more.

Despite other members of the cast, only Laura and Alec are fully realized characters here, and that’s as it should be. Other characters are there to judge our two lovers, as foils for their behavior, or as a reason to make a particular decision like Alec does at the end. There’s no space here for anyone else.

The story, as mentioned above, comes to us via a flashback with only spotty glimpses at the present. Laura is, throughout her mental recounting of this affair, wrestling with the reality of her life, comparing Alec on the one side and her husband and children on the other side. Each possibility pulls her in different directions.

Where this film fails for a modern audience is in the timidity of the romance. The two attempt to spend a bit of a night together, but otherwise, they are nearly as chaste as a pair of strangers. There are a couple of passionate kisses toward the latter half of the movie, but otherwise, the romance is actually a little tepid. A few stolen kisses, some smoky glances, and idle talk are difficult to read as romantic on any sort of sustained basis. Remade today, our twin heroes would be splitting the cost of a cheap motel.

Regardless, there’s a sense of tragedy and loss running through this film that is very effective. This is David Lean before he became the master of the grand epic film. What comes as little surprise is that many of the themes he explores in larger, grander films are here as well. Many of Lean's epics focused on the individual story or the story of people together in the middle of a grand sweep. This is that, without the grand sweep.

Brief Encounter lives up to its name. It’s a short one, but lovingly filmed with careful pacing, if too bland in terms of almost everyone in the cast. Watch it with someone you love.

Why to watch Brief Encounter: Romances don’t get more romance-y.
Why not to watch: A couple of mooning kisses equals a lifetime of angst.

Shining, Glistening Eyes

Film: Doctor Zhivago
Format: DVD from Northern Illinois University Library on big ol’ television.


The epic romance is a style from a bygone age. Dr. Zhivago, based on the novel of the same name by Boris Pasternak, is one of the last epic romances on the grand old scale. A true epic takes place on a grand scale against a massive backdrop, usually of war and usually with huge, sweeping expanses of land. Since this story takes place across the years of World War I and the Bolshevik Revolution, the scale doesn’t get much grander.

As tends to be the case with huge Russian epics, we have a lot of characters to keep straight here, but there are only a few that are really important. Also as is the case with Russian epics everybody has three names, and you can expect them to be used at any time, which can make some conversations difficult to keep straight.

We start, as many films of this sort do, at the end of things, with a Bolshevik general named Yevgraf (Alec Guinness) looking for his niece. The girl, who might be the right one, is brought to him, and he begins to tell her the tale of his half-brother, Yuri Zhivago (Omar Sharif). Yuri’s mother died when he was very young, and he was taken to Moscow by an adoptive family that includes Tonya (Geraldine Chaplin).

Yuri grows up to be a competent doctor as well as an acclaimed poet. He becomes engaged to Tonya around the time of World War I. Simultaneously, we are introduced to Lara (Julie Christie), a young woman who is enamored of a Bolshevik named Pasha (Tom Courtenay), in part because of his great passion.

The two meet for the first time when Lara’s mother attempts suicide and Yuri is one of the two who attends her. He is immediately smitten with the girl, but also discovers another rival in the form of Komarovsky (Rod Steiger), who acts as a sort of protector for Lara and her mother. He refuses to give his blessing to a marriage between Lara and Pasha, and takes it upon himself to essentially rape the girl as a way of exerting her dominance. She shoots Komarovsky during a Christmas party, and Zhivago watches her led out of the hall by Pasha and out of his life.

The war begins, and Yuri is posted to the Ukraine where he encounters Lara once again. She acts as his nurse while he tends to the troops, and they become quite close, but not in the Biblical sense. Back in Moscow, the situation has changed with the capture of the tsar and the Bolshevik Revolution. Yuri meets with Yevgraf, who manages to smuggle the family out of Moscow and out to a family estate in Varykino.

Here, naturally, Zhivago meets Lara again after first encountering Sasha, who now goes by the name of Strelnikov, and is quite the player in the Red (Bolshevik) Army. For the first time, their obvious love kindles into something much more despite the fact that Tonya is pregnant. No longer able to live with the affair, he breaks things off with Lara, but is captured by partisans and is forced to serve with them for nearly two years. He deserts and makes his way back to Varykino only to discover that his family is gone. However, Lara is still there, and she rescues him. They encounter Komarovsky again, who offers to take them to Vladivostok on the Pacific coast, but they refuse.

Of course, like the players in any great romance, both Lara and Yuri are doomed, in part because of the events that surround them and in part because of their great love for each other, forbidden by their marriages to other people. And yet, in the vast sweep of the conflict where people are lost and unaccounted for, they live a life together filled with the sort of romance that people generally only dream of, burning terribly for each other constantly. Of course they are forced to separate eventually, and of course, their passion is what continues to drive them and eventually proves to be the thing that destroys them, only in the most impossibly romantic way.

The cinematography is, of course, as lovely and grand as you might expect from someone with David Lean’s reputation and track record. The film is truly grand, and it’s grand in no small part because of the huge expanses of Russian countryside filled with trees, empty spaces, and acres upon acres of white, glistening snow.

Despite this, it’s not the vast expanses of Russian steppes that I remember, but the close ups, particularly of Omar Sharif, with his eyes glistening with tears, shining in whatever ambient light happens to be available. Seriously, the man is read to cry so often that he’s almost a leaking faucet. Everything he does reminds him of this great love of his life or the injustices he sees under the Bolshevik system, and these things cause tears to well up in his eyes constantly.

Doctor Zhivago is the story of this great love. It’s also really freakin’ long for the story it tells. I had trouble more than once keeping my eyes open through some of the passages. It’s not that the story isn’t gripping in its own way, but the epic sweep, while impressive, doesn’t strike me as being entirely necessary for a boy-loves-girl, loses-finds-loses girl story.

Ultimately, I can’t get past those glistening eyes. Zhivago’s passion more often than not comes off as a weepy bitch. Great and grand, but not in the way I was hoping. And prepare to hear that damned balalaika version of "Lara's Theme" in your head for the rest of your life.

Why to watch Dr. Zhivago : Epic sweep and romance on a grand scale.
Why not to watch: Three-plus hours of shining-eyed close up.

Crime and Punishment, Indian-style

Film: A Passage to India
Format: Streaming video from NetFlix on middlin’-sized living room television.

When someone says the word “epic” in relation to a film, what do you think of? It’s a good bet that at least one of the movies you think of was directed by David Lean, who made his living directing long movies in exotic locations, which is more or less the hallmark of an epic. Certainly epics can be made in more prosaic (for American standards) locations, but generally speaking, the epic means the exotic—Africa, the South Pacific, India. If not that, then at least we get a sweeping story of grand change, war, revolt, and forbidden, doomed love. Think of epics, and you get Gone With the Wind, Braveheart, Lawrence of Arabia, and Ben-Hur.

A Passage to India fits into that epic genre, but fits far less comfortably in my opinion than a lot of other movies. We do get, from the Western point of view, the exotic location of India. We also get epic length, in that the film stretches out to nearly three hours. That’s a David Lean hallmark. The movies he’s best known for are the type that come with an intermission in the middle.

What we don’t get here is a sweeping story. Instead, we get a very simple story that attempts very much to be about social change and social upheaval near the end of the British Raj, but doesn’t really live up to that promise. The story focuses on Adela Quested (Judy Davis), a vaguely pretty in that emotionless British way woman who is journeying to India to visit her fiancé, Ronny (Nigel Havers). Accompanying her is Mrs. Moore (Peggy Ashcroft), Ronny’s mother. Ronny is a magistrate, attempting to keep the local, British peace.

The two are shocked to discover that relations between the British and the Indian people have not progressed much. The two never really get together, and the British tend to live like royalty, treating the Indian population like servants or like they do not exist. We see this primarily in the character of Dr. Aziz (Victor Banerjee). Aziz both loves and hates the English. He appreciates their level of civilization, but detests the way he and his people are treated by the ruling class.

However, he appears to discover a kindred spirit in Mrs. Moore, who wanders into a mosque while Aziz is there. Initially taken aback by her presence, he quickly warms to her, as she appears to understand him both on a personal and cultural level. In short, she doesn’t act like the typical English dame, and Aziz is smitten with her personality. The two encounter each other again at a luncheon, where we are also introduced to two other major players: Dr. Godbole (Alec Guinness), an Indian professor, and Richard Fielding (James Fox), a local school superintendant. On a whim, Aziz invites the entire group for a picnic at the local point of interest, the Marabar Caves. Shortly after, Adela tells Ronny that she will not marry him.

It is here at the caves that things go south. Mrs. Moore becomes claustrophobic in the caves, but Aziz and Adela continue exploring. At one point, high on the side of the cliff, Aziz steps out of a cave for a cigarette, but when he goes back inside, Adela is gone. He sees her running down the cliff, bloody and distraught. He returns down to the ground and learns that Adela is accusing him of raping her, and he is jailed. The rest of the film concerns his trial, the “guilty until proven innocent” belief of the British nationals, and Mrs. Moore’s constant and consistent belief that Aziz is innocent. The interesting piece here, of course, is that Ronny is in the position of standing in judgment over the man who is accused of raping his on-again, off-again fiancée.

Aziz, of course, is innocent of the crime of which he is accused. This is the main thrust of the film; can an Indian national receive justice at the hand of a British magistrate in the British penal system? It’s a story that has been explored a number of different ways in a number of different cultures, and yet the story remains viable and worthwhile.

While the film is beautifully acted and shot, I can’t help but wish that there was more here. To me, an epic should involve massive changes of something. Other Lean films—Dr. Zhivago or Lawrence of Arabia come to mind—involve massive stories of social importance and often include huge changes in social structure. A Passage to India changes only a couple of people in the film while the main social climate doesn’t change at all.

I’ve said this before on another blog about this film, but it’s worth saying again; it feels very much like the scope of the film is wrong. I’d love a chance to re-edit the film and cut about an hour of it to get it down to something where the length feels more like it fits the scope of the story. There’s such a small story here that the grand sweep of the film seems too large. It’s not that the film is bad, just that it’s too much for the story that’s here.

Why to watch A Passage to India: The British being very, very British.
Why not to watch: Not enough story for the scope of the film.

I Been Workin' on the Railroad

Film: The Bridge on the River Kwai
Format: DVD from DeKalb Public Library on little bitty bedroom television.


While there are plenty of great war movies out there, World War II gets the lion’s share of really great ones. Sure there are a couple of American Revolutionary War films worth watching, some classic World War I films, a number of great Vietnam films, even a very good one from the Crimean War, but if you start listing great war movies, my guess is that half or more will concern themselves with the years between 1939 and 1945.

When it comes to World War II movies, there are two specific categories that seem to be relatively popular. The first is prison movies, and indeed, many of the great WWII films are based at least in part on prison life. Von Ryan’s Express, The Dirty Dozen, The Great Escape, and Stalag 17 all take place entirely or in large part inside a military prison. The other that seems extraordinarily popular is the “secret mission” film. Shining Through, Saving Private Ryan, The Guns of Navarone, and Where Eagles Dare fall into this broad category. Today’s film, The Bridge on the River Kwai, involves both prisons and secret missions.

We begin in a prison camp in Thailand where Commander Shears (William Holden) and an associate are burying another prisoner who has died from beriberi. They watch as a large group of British soldiers enter the camp whistling the "Colonel Bogey March." You may not know it by this name, but when you were a kid, you probably sang lyrics to it that went like this:

Comet! It makes your bathroom clean!
Comet! It tastes like gasoline!
Comet! It makes you vomit!
So get some Comet and vomit today!

The British contingent is lead by Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guinness), who is the epitome of a British officer. The camp commandant, Colonel Saito(Sessue Hayakawa), instructs the new prisoners on the realities of life at the camp. There are no wires, there is no fence, there are no watchtowers. These things aren’t needed, because anyone who tries to escape will be killed by something far worse in the jungle. He also tells the group that in the morning, everyone will begin working on the bridge that the camp has been charged to build. Nicholson reminds Saito that officers are prohibited from doing manual labor.

The next morning, all hell breaks loose. Nicholson refuses to order his officers to work, and we have a stand-off between Saito and Nicholson. Saito refrains from shooting the officers on the advice of the British medical officer, Major Clipton (James Donald). Instead, he leaves them to stand at attention in the tropical heat. At the end of the day, the officers are placed in a small hut as punishment, while Nicholson is placed in a metal box to sweat it out.

What happens next is a contest of wills. Nicholson refuses to budge, maintaining his dignity as best he can in the iron box, doing his best to walk ramrod straight when he is called out for meetings. Saito tells him that if the bridge isn’t built in time, he (Saito) will be forced to commit suicide. Nicholson remains unmoved, and eventually, on the brink of death himself, gets Saito to relent. At this point, Nicholson takes over the construction of the bridge and turns it into a British operation, taking the construction seriously. His goal, noble as it seems at first, is to regain and then retain the morale of his men—to keep them soldiers instead of slaves. The bridge is his means to do this, and rather than create a temporary rail bridge, he plans to build one that will last for hundreds of years.

In the meantime, Shears escapes, and is shot in the attempt. Wounded, he makes it back to friendly lines, where he tells the British authorities about the rail bridge, Nicholson, and Colonel Saito. The British hatch a scheme to destroy the bridge, and they want Shears to go with them. This team, lead by a Major Warden (Jack Hawkins) needs Shears, and has the way to get him to go with them. It seems that Shears really isn’t Shears. When his ship sank, he came ashore with Commander Shears, but Shears was killed. The William Holden character traded uniforms with the dead Shears in the hopes of better treatment. He uses this as a way to get out of the mission, but discovers that the British already know the ruse, and he’s stuck.

And that’s really the movie here. One guy wants to get a bridge built; another group wants to bring the bridge down. But as with any great movie, there’s much more at stake here than a simple bridge. This movie is about duty. What does it mean to fulfill one’s duty, and how does anyone truly know what his duty is? Where does duty stop and madness begin? Is attempting to keep his men British soldiers in essence committing treason by building a bridge for the Japanese?

All of these questions are asked in the course of the film, and as with most great works of art, the answer isn’t given. It’s left to the viewer to determine the value and impact of Nicholson’s, Saito’s, Warden’s and Shears’s actions and the results of those actions. Each acts from a sense of duty, and each is compelled to his actions by something greater than himself. Warden is particularly interesting here, although I cannot be specific without giving away the ending.

The Bridge on the River Kwai stands as a great movie not because the story is so noteworthy, but because the theme is so excellently addressed. It’s just as worth watching now as when it was created. It’s just as powerful, just as moving, and just as great.

Why to watch The Bridge on the River Kwai: Like most WWII prison movies, a great and intense film, and a brilliant character study.
Why not to watch: It’s long, and the action sequences are few and far between.