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.

 

Sunset Boulevard (1950) - Billy Wilder

Fifty-year old Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) is an obscure silent movie star living in a big, empty Sunset Boulevard mansion that one character describes as being "stricken with a kind of creeping paralysis‒out of beat with the rest of the world, crumbling apart in slow motion." A lot like Norma herself. But when struggling writer Joe Gillis (William Holden) stumbles onto the place, her dreams of a comeback suddenly seem possible. Gillis, looking to escape creditors, agrees to help polish Norma's script, and becomes her reluctant lover. He is twenty years her junior.  

Director Wilder, a 15-year Hollywood veteran when he made Sunset Boulevard, had by then developed a good case of cynicism for the industry. In a damning portrait, he shows us that the Dream Factory is not all it seems. Norma is having trouble accepting that her heyday is long since past. She populates her mansion with old publicity photos and keeps entertained by watching her own silent films. It's a sorry existence. Her only companions are a pet chimp and Max (Erich Von Stroheim), her dutiful butler/chauffeur, former husband, and enabler. Max secretly sends her fan mail to boost her ego. When Gillis first meets Norma he says, "You're Norma Desmond. You used to be in silent pictures. You used to be big." Her retort is famous: "I am big. It's the pictures that got small." If Norma's sanity is uncertain, Gillis is cursed with ambition. Desperate for a break and nearly broke, he allows himself to become kept, accepting lavish gifts and ultimately her bed.

Wilder wastes no time dispelling the notion of Hollywood as all glitter and glamour.  The film opens with a memorable sequence. SUNSET BOULEVARD is stenciled on a curb. Dead leaves, scraps of paper, and cigarette butts lie in the gutter like so many broken dreams. Suddenly, police motor cycles and cars careen toward us to a murder scene, their sirens screaming. A body floats in a swimming pool. Shot from beneath the surface of the water looking up, we see a corpse with its eyes wide open. The unmistakable voiceover of Holden narrates the action. Already you know you are in for something different. 

The film is full of wonderful moments like this. The odd lovers watch old films in the dark,  Norma sits enthralled and clutches Joe's arm; Norma's awkward visit to Paramount Studio; Gillis' face as he finally realizes he's going to sleep with Norma; the bridge game with the Wax works; and Swanson's iconic stair descent. It is all beautifully shot and lit, and the sets evoke a claustrophobic and gothic look, appropriate for Norma's delusional state of mind.

A bizarre relationship develops between Norma and Joe.

Both leads give magnificent performances. Holden infuses his with self-loathing as he willing prostitutes himself. When asked if he hates himself, he flippantly but honestly responds, "Constantly." And in a role that must have hit close to home, Swanson has moments of true desperation and pathos as she bravely portrays a pathetic figure.  

All the film's components work together to complement Wilder's tight direction. Franz Waxman won an Oscar for his atmospheric, heavily-stringed score, and Edith Head designed the costumes. Wilder and Charles Brackett collaborated on the biting script, highlighted by Gillis' sarcastic self-effacing shots at himself and the film industry.

Nancy Olson gives a fine supporting performance as Gillis' other love interest, Betty.

What Makes Sunset Boulevard Special:

All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up.

Sunset is in the handful of the greatest film noirs. Unlike most of the genre it's not populated with low-lifes or criminals out to hurt someone for their own gain, usually financial. No such base motives exist here. Rather, it gives the genre a twist by featuring two essentially decent people. Norma merely wants to recapture her glory days. If she sometimes unwittingly humiliates Joe, she also desperately needs and genuinely loves him. For his part, Joe, if happy to live off Norma's handouts while secretly working with and longing for Betty Schaefer, has enough affection and sympathy for Norma, that he rushes to her side on learning of her attempted suicide. The only violence that occurs is not malicious.           

And any film that so openly and skillfully attacks any pompous megalith industry like the film industry is worth your while. That Wilder, a member of that same industry, had the temerity to attack his own, is remarkable. 

  

Inside Story:

The Wax works bridge players were old stars of Hollywood's silent era: comic legend Buster Keaton, H.B. Warner (Mr. Gower the druggist in It's a Wonderful Life), and Anna Q. Nilsson, once named the most beautiful actress in the world. Famed director Cecil B. DeMille and gossip columnist Hedda Hopper also played themselves in the film.

Montgomery Clift, already an Oscar-nominated actor, and coming off two recent hits (Red River and The Heiress), was scheduled to play the role of Gillis but backed out at the last minute.

Wilder received six dual-Oscar nominations as director and writer for a film during his long career, this being one. He won both in 1946 (The Lost Weekend) and in 1961 (The Apartment). For Sunset, he won the Writing award only. Swanson lost the Oscar to Judy Holliday (Born Yesterday) and Holden lost to Jose Ferrer (Cyrano De Bergerac).

Major Awards:

• Nominated for eleven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor and Best Actress.
• Won three Oscars: for Best Art Direction, Best Writing, and Music.
• Selected by the National Film Registry in 1989 as one of 25 landmark films.
• AFI's 16th greatest American film.
    

Other films by Billy Wilder:

• Double Indemnity 1944
• Stalag 17 1953
• Witness for the Prosecution 1957
• The Apartment 1960
• One, Two, Three 1961

The Wild Bunch (1969) -- Sam Peckinpah

The wild west is dying fast. Automobiles will soon replace horses and there is no place for the Wild Bunch, a group of aging outlaws led by Pike Bishop (William Holden), as tired looking a man as you're likely to see. Pike and the gang target a bank with its supposed railroad payroll, but former gang member Deke Thornton (Robert Ryan) is onto the scheme. Thornton heads an amateur posse of bounty hunters and has arranged an ambush. The threat of a return to Yuma prison hangs over his head unless he can stop the Wild Bunch.

Part of the Opening Credit Sequence.

Director Peckinpah produced a landmark film. His West is brutally violent. When a man is shot here, he doesn't just drop to the ground; instead, multiple wounds send blood and pieces of flesh exploding in the air as the victim does a slow motion balletic pirouette. From the freeze framed introduction of the actors in the opening credits to the two chaotic and bloody shootouts that bookend the film, it is a spectacular Western.

As the outlaws arrive, the camera pans to a group of dirty Mexican children torturing a scorpion, trapping it with a horde of hungry ants. A few minutes later the bandits ride by in desperate flight, and the scorpion is being burned alive. The symbolism is obvious; you can expect a similar ugly end for the Wild Bunch. The assault goes horribly wrong but the Wild Bunch escapes empty-handed, a few of their members killed, and the posse hot on its trail. Later, they high-jack an arms shipment in a well-executed train robbery with plans to sell the rifles to Mexican regulars under General Mapache. They escape Thornton again when Pike dynamites the bridge over the Rio Grande. In a great achievement of stunt work, Thornton's men drop into the river.

Mapache is not to be trusted. He pays for the guns, but aware that gang member Angel diverted one crate of rifles for the peasant villagers that his troops routinely terrorize, Mapache holds him for torture. For a man like Pike, who values a man's word and comradeship more than anything, the way is clear. He could get away scot-free, rich, but he knows Thornton is out there; he is tired of being hunted. He and the gang come to Aqua Verde to rescue Angel.     

Peckinpah helped write the terrific scrip. He clearly defines the characters without slowing down the action. He's drawn Pike as an anti-hero who holds the group together, at one point saying, "When you side with a man you stay with him. If you can't do that you're like some animal. You're finished! We're finished! All of us!" As he attempts to mount his horse, the stirrup breaks and he falls. It's a poignant moment, one that shows a man past his prime, yet trying desperately to hold onto the only thing he knows. At another point he tries to kid himself, telling Dutch (Ernest Borgnine) he'd like to make one more good score and back off, Dutch scoffs, "Back off to what?" Against Pike is Thornton, who hates pursuing his old friend. At one point, disgusted with his undisciplined posse, he exclaims that he wishes he were still riding with men. 

Deke Thorton's rag-tag outfit.

All aspects of the film work together. The film editing of the two shootouts is superbly quick, jarring,  and effective. At the time, nothing like it had ever been done. Peckinpah uses multiple cuts, often focusing on an actor's face to capture reactions, and he juxtaposes a temperance parade in the midst of the opening battle.

The full orchestral score by Jerry Fielding works wonderfully with a generous use of drums and trumpets to give it a military flare in the action sequences  and quiet strings in periods of lament. The set design, particularly Mapache's headquarters, the ruins of the old Spanish church yard, seems perfect, and renowned cinematographer, Lucien Ballard, produced one of his most magnificent visual films. Ballard knew how to make Westerns look gorgeous. Some of his other films include Ride the High Country, True Grit, and Will Penny.   

What Makes The Wild Bunch Special:

William Holden gives one of the best performances of his career. His is the perfect weathered face for the role. You feel his tiredness, and ultimately his sad acceptance that life as he knows it is over. Holden can convey more emotion with a simple look than most actors. He conveys deep loneliness in a look at a prostitute near the end. You know his life is empty. 

The long walk to save Angel (Johnson, Oats, Holden, and Borgnine.)

Another great moment takes place between Holden and his band just before the final four-minute massacre. The crisis appears to be averted; they can safely walk away. They all glance at one another and smile. One of them laughs. The scene erupts in gunfire.

The rest of the cast is one of the finest ensemble of supporting actors ever assembled. Warren Oates and Ben Johnson are members of the Bunch, along with a grizzled Edmund O'Brien, and Strother Martin and L.Q. Jones are psychotic bounty hunters. Albert Decker is the railroad boss. Peckinpah gives each his moment to shine in this wistful but violent film.  

It is also one of the last fine performances by Ryan, an actor who never got his due. He died just five years after the film was released. Starting with Crossfire in 1947, for which he received an Oscar nomination, Ryan always brought a certain weight to a film, often as a character of barely controlled menace, but vulnerable and stoic. Here he is a man trapped. He'd rather be riding with the Wild Bunch than chasing them, and you sense that he holds affection for Pike, or at least deep admiration. He understands that the way of the outlaw is past, and that his old friend, Pike, is not going to accept it. Ryan captures his character's dilemma in a gritty performance.
     

The script has plenty of memorable lines, always delivered perfectly in character. Here are just a few, which if heard or thought of later, will immediately bring to mind the respective scenes:

                 Pike: "If they move, kill 'em."

                 Sikes: "Ain't like it used to be, but it'll do."

                 Coffer: "It's covered, you two-bit redneck peckerwood."

Inside Story:

The film has a high body count. Critic Pauline Kael noted, "Pouring new wine into the bottle of the Western, Peckinpah explodes the bottle." He would forever after be known as "Bloody Sam." Peckinpah lived his life to the fullest, prompting actor James Coburn to eulogize him as a man "who pushed me over the abyss and then jumped in after me. He took me on some great adventures." Peckinpah first explored the theme of the mythologized West in another great film: Ride the High Country, seven years earlier. It features Western star Randolph Scott in his final screen performance.

Major Awards:

• Nominated for Best Original Score (Jerry Fielding)
• Nominated for Best Writing (Peckinpah and Walon Green). 

Other Films by Peckinpah:

• Ride the High Country 1962
• Major Dundee 1965
• The Ballad of Cable Hogue 1970
• Straw Dogs 1971
• The Getaway 1972
• Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid 1973
• Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia 1974