A Passage to India (1984) -- David Lean

Cultures clash in this story set at the height of English colonialism when a repressed English woman comes to India to visit her potential fiance, Ronny, an ambitious bore who serves as a local magistrate in Chandrapore. Adela Quested (Judy Davis) is accompanied by her future mother-in-law, Mrs. Moore (Peggy Ashcroft). Both women want to see the real India and meet indigenous people, and not restrict their activities to the stuffy British social club, where British authorities and their wives behave with priggishness and snobbery toward all Indians. Mrs. Moore strikes up a friendship with Dr. Aziz, who, wanting to impress, foolishly arranges for a visit to the Marabar caves, a sort of tourist attraction known for disaffecting echoes. Here, both women experience strange emotions that ignite an incident that brings to a dramatic head the simmering racial tension and prejudices existing between the two cultures.

The caravan to the Malabar Caves.

Harking back to earlier days in the director chair, David Lean draws on a superb novel as the source for his final film. He achieved near perfection with his take on Dickens' Great Expectations in 1946, (less successfully with 1965's Dr. Zhivago), and here taps E.M Forster's acclaimed A Passage to India, named one of the 20th Century's greatest English-language novels by scores of critics, including The Modern Library, NPR, Time, and Random House. His transfer from page to screen here is similarly faithful to the source, capturing Forster's complex and subtle themes.

Lean is always thinking visually, and here, like all his best films, he makes sure to include several magnificent wide-screen shots designed to pull the viewer into the setting: a gorgeous shot of a distant train moving under the moonlit landscape, the painted elephant trudging up the Marabar hills, the valley of the holy Ganges, majestic Himalayan peaks, and a dugout canoe being paddled through water lilies. Beautiful stuff. If Lean is at fault, it is not including a few more such vistas. The scenes of crowds in the city in particular are done in either closeup or mid-range, losing all sense of location and much of their impact. You have the feel that the crowd is not really all that big. Overall, there seems too much tight camerawork for such an exotic country.

Judy Davis as Adela Quested.


The acting is terrific throughout, especially James Fox as Mr. Fielding, the enlightened head of the college and the only Westerner who considers Indians as equals rather than mere subjects. While other transplanted British officials look down their long upturned noses at the natives, Fielding welcomes interaction and also befriends Dr. Aziz. Fielding aligns himself with Aziz after the doctor is accused of a crime, placing him at odds with his fellow countrymen, who naturally assume Aziz guilt, even with scant evidence. Fox does a great job as the conflicted Fielding. The educator believes Britain's presence is useful for India, helping bring needed order to the country, but he is keenly cognizant that its imperialistic attitude toward the people is doomed to fail, and at times, is disgraceful. A more humane, enlightened approach would better serve both parties. And his bemusement rather than scorn of the religious beliefs of Hindus and Muslims sets him apart.

Brave to support Aziz, the friendship between the two is as much a part of the story as Miss Quested's ordeal, as it represents a microcosm of the two country's relationship, and asks the question if the West and East can co-exist in harmony.

Davis is effective too as a young woman, confused about her future and unsure that marriage to Ronny would make her happy. Lean altered an important scene for her character from the novel, changing the setting from a car accident she experiences with Ronny. Instead, Lean has her finding an abandoned temple on her own. A good decision as it better hints at her state of mind and helps explain what may happen later. On a bike ride in the countryside and tall grass Adela suddenly comes upon some old ruins. The heat is oppressive, the air stagnant. Sexually suggestive statuary and images adorn the walls and lay on the ground. She stands somewhat dazed and experiences a brief inner crisis. It's a perfectly acted moment, without words, that gives us insight into the girl's thoughts. She's having a hard time keeping it together in this strange land. Davis plays it all with her face and eyes. It is wonderfully edited, the camera switching between the figures and Adela, with one slow pull in to her face.         



Miss Quested, Mrs. Moore, and Dr. Aziz about to enter a cave.

Going into detail about the alleged crime would spoil the film's most interesting sequence for those who haven't seen it. Suffice it to say it involves those mysterious Marabar caves. Some readers of the novel and viewers of the film claim some ambiguity about Aziz's guilt. But whatever may have been author Forster or Lean's intent, it is clear to me what did not happened, even if what did happen is not fully explained.


Dr. Aziz looks for Miss Quested in the cave.

In any case, Aziz is arrested and a trial takes place, setting up the story's climax. The parties take clear sides and we see how misunderstanding is fueled by parochial interests and narrow mindedness. It is all resolved far too quickly for my taste, both in the novel and film.

Forster's book is filled with beautiful writing, which conveys the underlying prejudices of both sides. Lean's second change is in altering one of the most famous passages, attributing a quip to the defense attorney rather than an anonymous person in the packed courtroom:

McBryde (police chief and prosecutor at the trial) "Before we begin, I'd like to state what I believe to be a universal truth: the darker races are attracted to the fairer, but not vice-versa."
Advocate Amrit Rao: "Even when the lady is LESS attractive than the gentleman? "
[court breaks out in laughter]

The exchange embarrasses the young woman, and seems much crueler here than the novel, coming from an accomplished Indian man, whose status as an attorney puts him nearly on par with the Britishers.  Lean seems intent on suggesting it is not just the British who could use an attitude adjustment. And indeed, fault lies on both sides. Later Aziz will jump to a conclusion about something regarding Fielding, showing we are all colored by preconceived notions of others' motives. In any case, Davis the actress is far more attractive than the character Adela depicted in the novel, making the quip less sensible.


Mrs. Moore and Miss Quested have tea at the club. No Indians are allowed.

Alex Guinness plays the equable Godbole, an odd Hindu teacher who talks in riddles and seemingly innocuous statements. Nothing fazes him. For those of us in the West, India will always be a perplexing place, or as Fielding suggests, a muddle. But Godbole doesn't see anything that way. When Fielding asks how he can help Aziz, Godbole, unconcerned, suggests the man's fate is already certain:

Professor Godbole: Nothing you will do will change the outcome. .
Fielding: So "Do nothing!" Is that your philosophy?
Godbole: My philosophy is you can do what you like... but the outcome will be the same.

Guinness' makeup is a slight distraction. It looks as if he has been coated with brown shoe polish. But surely he must have been pleased with the role. It marked his sixth collaboration with Lean and was a nice return to respectability following a film he reportedly felt foolish making, Star Wars.

Overall, the film garnered 11 Oscar nominations, including Davis for Best Actress, Lean for Best Director and Best Editing, and the film for Best Picture. It was up against stiff competition in several categories as it was the year of Amadeus, winner of eight. A Passage to India won just two: Ashcroft for Supporting Actress and Maurice Jarre for Best Score. Ashcroft did a fine job but Jarre's award seems unwarranted. The score is most present over the titles, at start and finish, and sounds more appropriate for an Agatha Christie film and one set in India. It does little to support the mood of the action.

One well-deserved nomination was for Best Costume Design, as evidenced by the authentic and colorful Indian saris throughout. And Davis' Edwardian outfits look terrific.  

The revered Mrs. Moore -- Peggy Ashcroft.

If not the masterpiece of Lawrence of Arabia, this is still a finely crafted and acted film. A splendid swan song for Director Lean. Want to more about author E.M. Forster? Click here.







The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957) - David Lean

A British colonel consumed with foolish pride butts head with a cruel Japanese prison commander intent on completing a strategic railway and bridge over the River Kwai in Burma during WWII.

The Bridge on the River Kwai is a superb achievement, where all elements of film come together to produce the most satisfying action-adventure film ever made. If not as visually stunning as Lawrence of Arabia, on the whole it is director David Lean's best epic. It involves two parallel story lines, one the psychological drama between two strong-willed protagonists, Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guinness) and Colonel Saito (Sessue Hayakawa) over how to build the bridge; and the second, Commander Shears' (William Holden) escape and return in a daring commando raid to blow it up. The first story line runs throughout nearly the film's entirety, while the second provides the exciting climax.

Lean does a fine job setting the stage by portraying the misery of a Japanese prison camp without showing any of its actual brutality on screen. Filmed in the heat and humidity of Ceylon, there was no need spray the actors to create "sweat." Their flesh glimmers with moisture. Uniforms rot in the constant dampness and some of prisoners' shoes are little more than soles. The first scene depicts crude crosses in the make-shift cemetery as Shears and another man dig a new grave. Shears looks at the new arrivals and guesses he'll have plenty of work ahead.

The camp lies in the middle of a dense jungle, representing Burma, the scene of the actual events of the film in 1942/1943, which except for the film's climax, are essentially accurate. Saito explains to the newly arrived British prisoners that it is useless to try to escape. If his guards don't shoot you, the snakes or heat will get you. Shears disagrees with Nicholson, who advises his men against escape, saying: "I'd say the odds against a successful escape are about 100 to one. But may I add another word, Colonel? The odds against survival in this camp are even worse."

Given what follows, it is doubtful Saito could have ever won the battle of wills against the stubborn and proud Nicholson, but he certainly gets off on the wrong foot. In his initial address to the British troops he insults their officers, saying they were cowards to surrender, denying their men the chance to die like soldiers. The only way for Nicholson to save face is to defy Saito's demand that officers work along side the men on the railway, even if it means his own death in the oven--a small corrugated tin hut. Nicholson will even sacrifice his own officers on principal.

Nicholson after a few days in the oven.

For his own part, Saito is under immense pressure to complete the bridge on time. Failure means suicide in accordance with the Japanese code of honor. He has no regard for the Geneva Convention when it comes to the treatment of prisoners, but realizing that he needs Nicholson's cooperation to construct the bridge, it is the Japanese officer who eventually capitulates in an emotional scene that leaves him sobbing in humiliation on his cot. 

Guinness won a Best Actor Oscar for his role. His performance is terrific. Nicholson, not particularly admirable or likable, is a complicated man, and Guinness makes him sympathetic. He is a fascinating character. The officer holds unfilled aspirations. Having surrendered he must feel some responsibility for having brought his men to this abysmal place, commanded as he says by the worst officer he has ever met. He suffers the indignity of being slapped in front of his men. His adherence to a British stiff-upper lip attitude saves face, but more importantly enables him to cloak his feelings of shame over a failure in leadership.

On the plus side, his enthusiastic cooperation with Saito leads to improved rations for the prisoners. And he is correct in asserting that the bridge project helps maintain discipline in the ranks and gives his men purpose. That it demonstrates to the Japanese that the British are superior is even better in Nicholson's eyes.

Still, we wonder how much of Nicholson's behaviour stems from a desire to prove to himself that he can accomplish something significant. He tells the camp doctor "one day the war will be over. And I hope that the people that use this bridge in years to come will remember how it was built and who built it. Not a gang of slaves, but soldiers, British soldiers, Clipton, even in captivity." More telling is the brilliantly written bridge soliloquy, which is a strong argument that the latter motive is his real catalyst, at least subconsciously:

Nicholson to Saito: I've been thinking. Tomorrow it will be twenty-eight years to the day that I've been in the service. Twenty-eight years in peace and war. I don't suppose I've been at home more than ten months in all that time. Still, it's been a good life. I loved India. I wouldn't have had it any other way. But there are times when suddenly you realize you're nearer the end than the beginning. And you wonder, you ask yourself, what the sum total of your life represents. What difference your being there at any time made to anything. Hardly made any difference at all, really, particularly in comparison with other men's careers. I don't know whether that kind of thinking's very healthy; but I must admit I've had some thoughts on those lines from time to time. But tonight... tonight!  

Here's a link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SUnsFL2Bw8k

It's the best scene in the film, beautifully written and acted. Lean shoots most of it from behind the actor as he leans on the railing looking out over the river. The camera slowly pulls forward, eventually moving to a side shot. As he finishes, he accidentally drops his make-shift riding crop into the water, signifying that he has completed the journey from humiliation (Saito broke his real crop in an earlier scene) to redemption. Writers Carl Foreman and Michael Wilson would win an Oscar for the screenplay, and this scene as much as any likely sealed their win.

Holden's presence enhances the action part of the film. He's a fabulous actor given a good part. Unlike Nicholson, you have no conflicted emotions about Shears. He's daring; and if he's coerced into joining the commando raid, in the end, heroic. He too gets a memorable speech to the raid's leader, Major Warden (Jack Hawkins):

Shears to Warden: You make me sick with your heroics! There's a stench of death about you. You carry it in your pack like the plague. Explosives and L-pills - they go well together, don't they? And with you it's just one thing or the other: destroy a bridge or destroy yourself. This is just a game, this war! You and Colonel Nicholson, you're two of a kind, crazy with courage. For what? How to die like a gentleman... how to die by the rules - when the only important thing is how to live like a human being.

"Kill him! Kill him!"

A David Lean film always has wonderful cinematography and a few exquisite transitions between scenes. Here, as a precursor to the acclaimed one in Lawrence where the tip of a lit match turns into the Arabian desert, there is a moment where the camp doctor, after visiting Nicholson, complains of the heat and looks up at the brutal sun. The camera moves up to the sky where the unforgiving sun is a searing white orb. Suddenly, Major Shears, who has earlier escaped the camp, comes into the scene from the bottom of the screen with no clear cut. He is stumbling along, filthy and exhausted and near death with thirst. It's a magnificent switch of characters and story line.

The film's payoff comes as the commando team arrives and mines the bridge. Their plan is to time the explosion with the passage of a Japanese troop train. The editing in the finale is superb. The river has fallen during the night, allowing Nicholson to notice wires beneath the bridge. Confused, he takes Saito to investigate. The two walk down to the river's bank as the sounds of the train is heard in the distance, coming closer and closer. The detonation wire is more obvious here, and Nicholson grabs it and begins to pull, exposing the wire as it comes out of the sand, leading to a commando hidden behind some rocks with the plunger. Lean uses quick camera cuts between the characters to capture reactions. It is wonderfully tense.

The sequence has been much discussed, and Nicholson's thoughts and actions are open to interpretation. Clearly, at first he wants to protect the bridge (his "600-year" achievement), and fails to understand that in building it, he has collaborated with the enemy. Has he gone mad? It's hard to say, but the appearance of Shears seems to shock him back to his duty. He gasps "What have I done?" as the train begins to pass over the bridge. Warden has been firing mortars all the while, and one fragment hits Nicholson. He staggers, mortally wounded, before falling dead across the plunger. The bridge explodes and collapses, sending the train into the river.

"What have I done?"

Besides the writers and Guinness, Oscars went to Lean as director, Jack Hildyard as cinematographer, Peter Taylor as editor, the score and the film as Best Picture. Hayakawa was nominated for Supporting Actor but lost to Red Buttons for Sayonara.

The film was named to the National Film Registry in 1997 and in the American Film Institute's most recent edition of greatest films was listed as #13.

Colonel Bogey March

One of the most memorable tunes in all of film appears in Bridge. The British soldiers whistle the jaunty number as they march into camp, and again as they cross the completed bridge. It is called the Colonel Bogey March. There are several versions of lyrics. Here's a typical one, which would have been familiar to British audiences:

Hitler has only got one ball,

Goring has two but very small,

Himmler is somewhat sim'lar,

But poor Goebbels has no balls at all.

Pierre Boulle:

The film is based on French writer Pierre Boulle's 1952 novel. The book was a semi-fictional story about the trials Allied POWs underwent at the hands of the Japan military, which forced them to construct a 258 mile railway in Burma to facilitate the transport of raw materials needed for their war effort. Conditions were so terrible the line became known as the Death Railway. Somewhere around 100,000 prisoners and Asian conscripts died during construction.

Photograph of prisoners working on the Death Railway.

Boulle himself was never a prisoner of the Japanese, but while serving as a spy for France was captured by the Vichy French loyalists on the Mekong River, and imprisoned for a time in Saigon. He escaped and returned to service in British special forces in Calcutta, India.

Boulle also wrote Planet of the Apes.

Favorite Films of the 1950s

The 1950s was a spectacular decade of films. Here are ten of my favorites in chronological order. Maybe not the ten best of the decade, though some certainly are by most people's measure.

It marked the last decade for Bogart, who did some of his best work, and for Gary Cooper. Marlon Brando was at the top of his game, and it was perhaps the best decade for Westerns. Two make my list, but it was a rich genre. Cooper won his second Oscar with High Noon; Anthony Mann and Jimmy Stewart produced five terrific collaborations, including Winchester '73 and The Naked Spur; and Budd Boetticher and Randolph Scott combined for several classics.

Hitchcock continued his impressive run and peaked commercially in the decade with several classic suspense films. I include just one, and omit Strangers on a Train, Rear Window and North by Northwest.

Other directorial achievements of note included came from Nicholas Ray, Billy Wilder, and the great John Ford, but other fine films of theirs are omitted.

Foreign directors continued to make wonderful films, even if some weren't shown in America. I include just two here and must omit several worthy ones. De Sica's Umberto D is the best film to ever feature a dog, and Fellini made two poignant films with his wife, Giulietta Masina: La Strada and Nights of Cabiria. Jules Dassin's Rififi is a tight noir that paved the way for heist films, and Henri-Georges Clouzot gave us the Hitchcockian Diabolique and Wages of Fear.

1. In a Lonely Place 1950

Humphrey Bogart's best performance in Director Nicholas Ray's best film. Is he a murderer or not? Gloria Grahame plays his confused lover, trying to help him overcome his inner demons. From the pulp novel by Dorothy Hughes, it contains a memorable last scene. "I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."

2. Sunset Boulevard 1951

Billy Wilder's scathing look at Hollywood follows the weird affair of a has-been movie star, Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), with struggling writer Joe Gillis (William Holden). Swanson gives one of film's iconic performances. "Mr. DeMille. I'm ready for my closeup."

3. Tokyo Story 1953

The third of Director Yasujiro Ozo's "Noriko Trilogy," packs an emotional wallop. Setsuko Hara is the generous daughter-in-law in a family whose children are too busy to bother with its aging parents. Now considered on the short list of greatest films ever made, it was not released in the United States until 1972.

4. Shane 1953

One of the most authentic Westerns, it is George Stevens' best film and Alan Ladd's signature role as a retired gunfighter who helps farmer Joe Starett (Van Heflin) fight off cattlemen in a range war. Shot against the beautiful Grand Tetons it is Jean Arthur's last film and includes one menacing bad guy in Jack Palance as Jack Wilson.

5 On the Waterfront 1954

Marlon Brando as dock worker Terry Malloy comes up against the brutal union led by Lee J. Cobb. Brando won a well-deserved Best Actor Oscar in that year's Best Film. The most memorable scene takes place inside a taxi between brothers Brando and Rod Steiger. "I coulda been a contender."

6. The Searchers 1956

John Ford and John Wayne's best collaboration and cinematographer Winton Hoch's masterpiece. Inexplicably neglected at that year's Oscars, it is now on the short list of greatest Westerns. Wayne is a brutally racist Ethan Edwards out to rescue his abducted niece. A great final shot of Wayne in the doorway.

7. Sweet Smell of Success 1957

Easily Tony Curtis' best performance. He is Sidney Falco, a sleazy sycophantic press agent. Burt Lancaster plays the powerful columnist J.J. Hunsecker. Filmed in glorious black and white, New York City never looked more grittier. Ernest Lehman co-wrote the memorable script. "Match me, Sidney."

8. The Bridge on the River Kwai 1957

Director David Lean's first epic, and maybe his best. Alex Guinness gives his signature Oscar-winning performance as a rigid British colonel who helps the Japanese build a bridge. His counterpart is Sessue Hayakara as the Japanese colonel, facing Hari Kari if the bridge isn't completed on time. William Holden leads the commando raid to stop them. With a rousing climax, it deservedly captured that year's Best Film.

9. Vertigo 1958

Alfred Hitchcock's most complex film. Jimmy Stewart is a retired detective afraid of heights and obsessed with a dead woman. The twist, revealed mid-stream, is stunning the first time you see it. A magnificent score by Bernard Hermann, impeccable editing by George Tomasi, and a memorable title sequence by Saul Bass make it one of the most satisfying film experiences.

10. The Cranes are Flying

One of the first Russian films produced after the death of Stalin that deviated from the state's imposed mandate to champion Russia as a military victor, the film tells the story of a beautiful young couple separated by the war. Tatyana Samojlova, as Veronika, promises to wait for Boris, who finds himself on the Eastern front. The film depicts war as ugly and devastating and won that year's Golden Palm at the Cannes Film festival.

Just Misses:

Early Summer 1951 with Setuko Hara.

Moby Dick 1956 with Gregory Peck.

Touch of Evil 1958 with Orson Welles.

Room at the Top 1959 with Simone Signoret and Lawrence Harvey.

 

Great Expectations (1946) -- David Lean

Young Pip (Tony Wager) is an orphan living with his cantankerous sister and kind uncle, Joe Gargery (Bernard Miles). Pip has no aspirations beyond hoping to one day become a blacksmith like Joe, for whom he serves as apprentice. One night Pip encounters a menacing escaped convict on the marsh, Magwitch (Finlay Currie). Scared out of his wits, Pip steals some food for the man, who shortly is recaptured and taken away. About the same time, Pip makes the acquaintance of a strange old woman, Miss Havisham (Marita Hunt). She is wealthy and arrogant and introduces the boy to her beautiful niece, Estella (Jean Simmons). Pip is infatuated, but rebuked. She tells him he is course and common. He soon comes into some money, thanks to a mysterious benefactor, and Pip (now, John Mills) goes off to London and high society with great expectations to make a name for himself as a gentleman.  

Pip visits his parents' grave.

This is arguably the best adaption of any Charles Dickens' novel to screen, Dickens' most accessible work. The only other film of similar stature is Director Lean's own Oliver Twist, filmed two years later, with some of the same cast and crew. Here, Lean faithfully captures the mood of the novel's time and place, especially Havisham's ivy-covered and cobwebbed-ridden mansion, the murky marshland, and the teeming streets of London. Filmed in black and white, it is stunningly beautiful. And populated by some of Dickens' most fascinating and colorful characters, it is a delight. Currie as Magwitch, and Francis Sullivan as the irrepressible lawyer, Mr. Jaggers, are impressive and memorable. 



The film starts with a dramatic scene, its best. Pip comes to a churchyard to lay flowers at his parents' grave. The wind howls eerily and the trees creak ominously. Pip first meets the desperate convict here. It is a masterful achievement by Lean and art director Wilfred Shingleton; who together create the perfect atmosphere. Magwitch, starving, filthy, and bound by leg irons, looks exactly as a young boy's imagination would picture such a monster. He suddenly looms up and threatens the terrified boy: "Keep still, you young devil, or I'll slit your throat!" He tells Pip to bring him some food and tools. If he doesn't, he'll "have his liver and heart out!" Currie is wonderful. The set decoration includes tilted headstones, a period church in the background, and naked tree branches that remind one of skeleton arms.   



A horrible encounter with Magwitch.

There are moments of fine humor in the film. Mr. Jaggers, who serves as the intermediary between Pip and his secret benefactor, is bound to silence. Jaggers has his own language, deliberate and formal. He cannot tell Pip who saved him from a working life of poverty, and without being too direct, he cleverly advises the young man, scolds him when necessary, and generally makes sure he is taken care of. There is a peripheral character named the "Aged P." No longer able to hear, his son communicates with his father by nodding. It is silly, but funny.

Miss Havisham is one of film's most macabre characters. Certainly mad, she is a dowager in a rotting wedding dress. Jilted at the alter years earlier, she hasn't let the sunlight enter her mansion since. The table is still set for the wedding feast with a moldy cake as centerpiece. Even the mice won't touch it. 

 

Inside the Havisham Mansion.

What Makes Great Expectations Special:

This is simply one of the most visually rich films ever made. No scene is neglected. Of course, Lean had the wonderful source novel as grist for the mill. For example, Mr. Jaggers keeps death masks of clients he has lost to the gallows on his office walls.

Like all Dickens novels, the story is dense and complicated. Characters in the first act reappear later. Magwitch is one, and his second coming is dramatic and changes the course of the film. Lean, an accomplished editor before he turned to directing, knew how to trim it down without losing any of Dickens' unique flavor and atmosphere, or his biting social commentary. Everything is resolved in the end, of course.   

Lean's mastery of direction shows up in little scenes, like the one where Jaggers asks Pip to look out his office window. The Point of View is Pip's--he sees a plaza below packed with rowdies come to watch a multiple hanging. The POV shifts to Pip's face for his reaction. We hear the crowd quiet as the camera moves in for a close-up. Suddenly there is a rousing cheer and Pip cringes. The execution appears off screen, but we know exactly what happened. 

Inside Story:

Alex Guinness made his speaking film debut as Pip's friend and roommate, Herbert Pocket. He would go on to work with Director Lean five more times, most notably as Fagin in Oliver Twist (1948) and winning the Oscar for his role as Colonel Nicholson in The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957).

Lean would go on to international fame as a director of grand epics, like the aforementioned Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago, Ryan's Daughter, and Passage to India. But it is his early work, including the two Dickens' classics, that may be his greatest achievements. 

John Mills, who plays the older Pip was 38 when the film was produced. He does a fine job, but he is too old for the role, which requires someone a good ten years younger. It is the only significant distracting aspect of the film.

Jean Simmons at 17 is quite beautiful. It is too bad her role is such a short one.

Major Awards:

• Won Oscars for Best Art Direction/Set Decoration, and Best Black & White Cinematography.
• Nominated for Oscars for Director, Picture, and Writing.
• In a 1999 poll it was named the 5th best British film by the British Film Institute.

Other Early Films by Lean:

• Brief Encounter 1945
• Blithe Spirit 1945
• Oliver Twist 1948
• Summertime 1955