50 Great War Films: The Deer Hunter

 

Directed by Michael Cimino - 1978 poster

I am afraid this is the first film in the War series which I endured rather than enjoyed. There were too many things I didn't have any sympathy for or actively disliked:

• I found too often the musical score was pretentious
• the scenes set in the steel working town were beyond grim
• the bar culture was exactly what I don't like (despise!)
• the repulsive American cars of the time
• the Russian roulette scenes bordered on the gratuitous
• I find helicopters eerie and menacing
• I have never liked Meryl Streep - God, is she unpleasant to look at!
• I am not a fan of Christopher Walken (78 years-old this very day); another unprepossessing face
• I found none of the characters sympathetic
• I don't like deer hunting (or any shooting of animals) 
• I don't like the aesthetics of the Russian Orthodox Church
• nearly every scene went on far too long - the wedding and reception, the car driving away from the fat guy on the road, the roulette scenes... It could have been cut by 60 minutes - easily. 

Michael (De Niro) returns to Clairton, Pennsylvania

The Wedding Reception

What did impress me? I thought the scene with the coffins being loaded and the rows of body bags on the ground quite moving. The final evacuation of the Americans and their Vietnam supporters from the rooftop brought back memories of the real life event. The Viet Cong behaviour to their prisoners was horribly realistic. Steven (John Savage) was quite well acted, particularly after he has lost his legs and is clearly suffering from trauma. Another plus was all scenes were shot on location (no sound stages) - Thailand filled in for Vietnam.

After all of my negative points above, it is only fair that I put opposing points of view. It grossed $49 million; it won 5 Oscars; it has been named the 53rd-greatest American film of all time by the American Film Institute in 2007; Meryl Streep was nominated for Best Supporting Actress; Christopher Walken won Best Supporting Actor.                So what do I know?!

'The Deer Hunter'

I cheered up when I read that the deer was hit by a tranquilizer dart. However, it was sad that John Cazale (Stan), who had terminal cancer, died before the film was screened.

2006 DVD

Scott's 'The Abbot' 1820

 

First edition - 1820

I bought the three volume first edition as long ago as 14th March 1986, nearly five years after purchasing The Monastery. This time I had to pay £10 - what an expense! Many contemporary and more recent critics and reviewers felt that, with The Abbot, Scott had regained the reputation assigned to him with Ivanhoe. I happen to view things differently and look on The Monastery and The Abbot as a single tale. Alone among the Waverley novels, the latter was explicitly presented as the sequel to the former. I think one reason readers preferred it was the absence of the irritating White Lady. Scott acknowledges her unpopularity in his brief Introductory Epistle to the fictional Captain Clutterbuck:  I have struck out, for example, the whole machinery of the White Lady, and the poetry by which it is so ably supported (double benefit to me!). She only briefly reappears in the final paragraph of the third volume: ...and the White Lady, whose apparition had been infrequent  when the House of Avenel seemed verging to extinction, was seen to sport by her haunted well, with a zone of gold around her bosom as the baldric of an Earl. (Let her go, Scott, let her go!)

Are there negatives to the sequel? John Buchan wrote: it begins dolefully with lengthy speeches, an intolerable boy, and a religious maniac. It is not until the eleventh chapter that Catherine Seyton's sudden laughter wakes the reader to attention. The stock 'old hag' - in this case Magdalen Graeme (aka Mother Micneven) - appears to be in the right place too many times (rather like the old ex-abbot, Boniface in the final section of the last volume). These coincidences are simply too far-fetched. Catherine Seyton's brother, Henry, was clearly set up for a 'fall' from the first and was a pain in the codpiece throughout. As for the 'hero, Roland Graeme (aka Avenel), the sudden change from wilful youth to inspiring leader did not ring true in one character. I suppose the title of the sequel had to correspond with the first book; otherwise it seems strange to foist it on a character who has no more than a bit-part this time.  Once again, it was Scott's delineation of the minor characters - such as Adam Woodcock the falconer, Lilias Bradbourne, Jasper Wingate, George Douglas, Robert Dryfesdale,  Doctor Luke Lundin, the Lord Lindesay, the Lady Fleming and Veniam, the aged porter at the desolated monastery -  that shows his strengths. Mary Queen of Scots has always had a band of devoted followers and it appears as if Scott was himself very partial to her, with her sweet smiles.  Who is there, at the very mention of Mary Stuart's name, that has not her countenance before him, familiar as that of the mistress of his youth, or the favourite daughter of his advanced age? Some readers and critics did not approve of her [fictional] fondness for sarcasm or her 'coarse' language. The section based on Loch Leven was excellent and, not surprisingly, it led to an influx of visitors to the island (rather like Ivanhoe and Ashby de la Zouch). The Lady of Lochleven is well described. I think John Buchan is right, when he said of the main characters the women excel the me.

Loch Leven and its Castle today

Catherine was at the happy age of innocence and buoyancy of spirit...congenial vivacity. She is of the school of Di Vernon but more hoydenish and artificial (John Buchan).

Catherine Seyton and Roland Graeme

Margaret Graeme had a sternness of perseverance, founded on the fanaticism which she nursed so deeply, and which seemed to absorb all the ordinary purposes and feeling of mortality. ...as her grey hair floated back from under its shaggy eye-brow, the effect of her expressive, though emaciated features, was heightened by an enthusiasm approaching to insanity... She is another of Scott's sibyls.

Scott again gives full rein to his anti-Roman Catholicism: in describing Bridget, the ex-Abbess of Saint Catherine - timid, narrow-minded, and discontented, clung to ancient usages and pretensions which were ended by the Reformation. On Abbot Ambrosius (aka Edward Glendinning)...those who, with sincerity and generosity, fight and fall in an evil cause, posterity can only compassionate as victims of a generous but fatal error. The author seems to revel in his description of the boisterous behaviour of the Abbot of Unreason and his followers in their carnival-like attacks on the few remaining monks in the near-destroyed abbey.

The Seytons and their supporters with Roland Graeme

The interlude in Edinburgh is well described - such as the street fight between the Seytons and the Leslies; Roland's  meeting with Murray and Morton in the Palace of Holyrood; and the verbal tussles with Adam Woodcock. The final scenes - the escape from Loch Leven, the flight leading to the battlefield of Langside, the further removal to Dundrennan Abbey and the farewells - are well done. 

Mary of Scots' escape to Cumberland

The phrase which lodged in my memory from The Monastery - "When does love wait for the sanction of heraldry?" - had its counterpart in The Abbot: "Love, my beautiful Catherine, despises genealogies," answered Roland.

Scott's 'The Monastery' 1820

 

     

First edition - March 1820

I bought these volumes on 29th June 1981, for £6.00! (The same day I bought the 1st edition of Ivanhoe for the same price). I posted in my previous Blog that I never got further than the first few chapters with the latter, more famous and popular novel. However, I recall reading The Monastery soon after purchasing it and quite enjoying it. The novel was a disappointment to many - its sales were only moderate (better in Edinburgh than in London) and Scott himself wrote, I agree with the public in thinking the work not very interesting, but it was written with as much care as the others...

Let me get over my few negative points first. I agree with the Edinburgh Monthly Review's comment that the White Lady was absurd almost to childishness. It might be based on a legend (La Motte-Fouqué's Undine), and Sixteenth century mankind certainly believed in more than their fair share of spooky-wookies, but I still found it too fantastic (I am not a fan of science fiction/supernatural stories at all). Moreover, Scott's interruption of prose with verse (often it does not rise to the level of poetry) increasingly grates on me; so much so that I find I am skipping over the stanzas. Secondly, Sir Piercie Shafton was a bore from first to last; I read that many contemporary readers and reviewers thought him too gross a comic caricature. Sir Andrew Aguecheek was the most irritating character in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, but he was more sympathetic than Shafton. The latter is as fake as his back story.

The White Lady appears to both Father Philip and Halbert Glendenning

To be fair, other reviewers found the White Lady striking, powerful and even sublime, praising her poetry; whilst Sir Piercie was regarded as entertaining.  The duel between Halbert and Sir Piercie was well done, but, to me, the latter quickly outstayed his welcome.

The Duel between Halbert and Sir Piercie

As for the other characters, Dame Elspeth and Mary Avenel (by nature mild, pensive, and contemplative, gentle in disposition, and most placable when accidently offended... the melancholy and reflecting turn of her disposition gave to her sorrows a depth and breadth peculiar to her character.) do not inspire much interest; Dame Glendinning is slightly better; Halbert and Edward Glendinning are both well sketched as characters, but in no great depth. Mysie Happer the miller's daughter has more about her - an 'earthy' character with plenty of initiative, even if it involves an impossible rescue of Sir Piercie. 

Sir Piercie and Mysie Happer

Christie of Clinthill (with that impudent familiarity which such persons mistake for graceful ease...) recalls Craigengelt in The Bride of Lammermoor. To me, the real interest is the way Scott portrays the various types of monks - Father Philip, the Sacristan, The Abbot of St. Mary's, Kennaquhair (very like the real Melrose) and the Sub-Prior. I expect it's because Scott's views strike a chord with my own anti Roman Catholicism. As for Henry Warden, he is again Scott's stock figure of unreasonable Protestantism - a Covenanter before the Covenant existed.

Abbot Boniface: He had many of those habits of self-indulgence which men are apt to acquire who live for themselves alone. He was vain, moreover; and when boldly confronted, had sometimes shewn symptoms of timidity...in short, he would in other times have slumbered out his term of preferment with as much credit as any other "purple Abbot", who lived easily, but at the same time decorously - slept soundly, and disquieted himself with no dreams. His relationship with, and manoeuverings against, the Sub Prior are amusing.

The anti-Roman Catholics sentences are stark: Thus spoke, at least thought, a man [Eustace, the Sub Prior] zealous according to his imperfect knowledge, confounding the vital interests of Christianity with the extravagant and usurped claims of the Church of Rome... and again: Mary Avenel felt the void of mind, arising from the narrow and bigotted ignorance in which Rome then educated the children of her church. Their whole religion was a ritual, and their prayers were the formal iteration of unknown words...and yet again:... the errors and human inventions with which the Church of Rome had defaced the simple edifice of Christianity, as erected by its divine architect... As Henry Warden points out: [Roman Catholicism] established a toll-house betwixt heaven and hell, that profitable purgatory of which the Pope keeps the keys, like an iniquitous judge commutes punishment for bribes... Scott, ever the moderate, can attack the narrow-minded bigotry of both the Roman (represented by the Sub Prior) and the Puritan (Henry Warden). I thoroughly concur.

For once, I enjoyed reading the Introductory epistles between Captain Clutterbuck and the Author of "Waverley" - not as dry as previous efforts by Scott. One phrase lodged nicely in my memory: "When does love wait for the sanction of heraldry?"

Scott's 'Ivanhoe' 1820

 

          

'Ivanhoe' - 1820 first edition

At last! - I have read Ivanhoe from cover to cover, and in the three-decker first edition of 1820 (it was published in December 1819). Over the last 30+ years I have tried (I bought the three decker on 29th June 1981 for £6!), but never got beyond the first few chapters. Why? I simply do not know. Not only is it possibly Walter Scott's most famous novel (apart from Waverley itself?), but I lived in Ashby de la Zouch for 20 years, near where the famous Tournament is based and where streets, buildings and the famous - alas, long gone - Ivanhoe Baths pay tribute to the effect on the market town (for many years a great tourist money-spinner!). Moreover, as a teenager, along with a hall full of other teenage boys, I took part in a mass intake of breath when Elizabeth Taylor (as Rebecca) gazed on Robert Taylor (Ivanhoe) from behind a gauze curtain.

Was the reading worth the wait? More 'yes' than 'no'.  'Ivanhoe' burst on an eager public, not yet satiated after over five years of the Waverley phenomenon. The first edition of 10,000 copies sold out immediately. To English readers, it was more accessible as it lacked the 'strangeness' of the Scottish dialect; the novel added to Scott's European fame as well. As in 'Waverley', there are two heroines - the blonde, upright Rowena and the dark, focussed and passionate Rebecca. There is the dispossessed son; there are the characters who wish to reverse History - like the Jacobites in 'Waverley' and 'Rob Roy' - here represented by the fierce and proud Saxon, Cedric.

There are three great scenes - the Ashby Tournament, the attack on Torquilstone Castle and the Trial by Combat between Ivanhoe and Brian de Bois-Guilbert. These are supported by the greenwood escapades of the outlaws led by Locksley (Robin Hood); the claustrophobic moments in the dungeon of Torquilstone between Front-de-Boeuf and the old Jew Isaac and in the tower between Bois-Guilbert and Rebecca.

The 'disguised' Ivanhoe meets Rowena     Cedric receives his son; Richard I looks on

 

The Tournament at Ashby de la Zouch

               

Rebecca about to jump?                       Rebecca at her trial

As John Buchan writes, It is hard for us today to recapture the atmosphere in which 'Ivanhoe' won its resounding success. Historical novels flooded the rest of the century with less able practitioners, such as G.P.R. James, W. Harrison Ainsworth, Bulwer Lytton to name but three, and this has continued into the present century. Scott broke the mould of the mere Gothic 'romance'; yes, his History was more than suspect - Robin Hood, if he ever existed belongs to another century; Edward the Confessor left no descendants (sorry Athelstane!); Ulrica's/Urfied's gods are not Anglo-Saxon (she seems to inherit the Scott 'old hag' characteristics from previous tales - Vile murderous hag! detestable screech-owl! says Front-de-Boeuf ); Cedric and Athelstane do not belong to the 1190s; the regular description of the dress worn by the characters seem copied from history books; there is no sympathy for the Catholic Church (yet Prior Aymer, with his backslidings, is all too true a figure); chivalry is not seen as any defence against the disorder and cruelty of the times (only two characters live by the chivalric code: Richard I and Ivanhoe); the 'death' of Athelstane is not believable!; and so on. BUT - the plot is well done and so are the characters. 

Cedric of Rotherwood: Pride and jealousy there was in his eye, for his life had been spent in asserting rights which were constantly liable to invasion; and the prompt, fiery, and resolute disposition of the man, had been kept constantly upon the alert by the circumstances of his situation.

Rowena: if mildness were the more natural expression of such a combination of features, it was plain, that in the present instance, the exercise of habitual superiority, and the reception of general homage, had given to the Saxon lady a loftier character, which mingled with and qualified that bestowed by nature.

Isaac: ...owing to that very hatred and persecution, had adopted a national character, in which there was much, to say the least, mean and unamiable. His failure to reward Higg is unpardonable. Even Ivanhoe was too good a Catholic to retain the same class of feelings towards a Jewess, Locksley's attitude is no better: thou needest not to be told that thy race are held to be accursed in all Christian communities, and trust me that we cannot endure thy presence amongst us. Isaac is, of course, the early 19th century stereotypical Jew - cowardly and avaricious but humanised by his love for his daughter.

Prince John: his own character being light, profligate, and perfidious

Rebecca:...the brilliancy of her eyes, the superb arch of her eyebrows, her well-formed aquiline nose, her teeth as white as pearl, and the profusion of her sable tresses...fell down upon as much of a snow-white neck and bosom... (No wonder Prince John remarks yonder Jewess must be the very model of that perfection, whose charms drove frantic the wisest king that ever lived). Her steadfastness and defiance at Torquilstone is contrasted with Rowena's outbreak of weeping. Her faith is treated with respect by Scott, who idealised her as he did Diana Vernon in Rob Roy.

Athelstane: ...inanimate in expression, dull-eyed, heavy-browed, inactive and sluggish in all his motions, and so slow in resolution...and he was generally called Athelstane the Unready. He is another Scott staple character, always on the look out for 'refreshment'. His behaviour at the end of the book, (Vol. III Chapter XII) is that of a vibrant, communicative leader - not the same man as in Volume I.

Scott's portrait of Richard I (for much of the story, The Black Knight) has 'warts and all'. Richard Plantagenet desires no more fame than his good lance and sword may acquire him...  But your kingdom, my Lord, (said Ivanhoe) is threatened with dissolution and civil war...; and later: novelty in society and adventure were the zest of life to Richard Coeur-de-Lion.

Brian de Bois-Guilbert's dismissal of the early, ascetic vows of his Templar Order is well handled (Vol. II Chapter 10)

Final thoughts: I could sympathise to some extent with de Bois-Guilbert; Isaac the Jew was not sympathetically drawn by Scott (e.g. his careful counting out of the acquittance for the suit of armour); Prior Aymer and the Templars were confirmed 'baddies'; the lower order characters were, as always in Scott, drawn with a liveliness not always apparent in their superiors - Gurth and Wamba and Higg son of Snell are little gems. The Clerk of Copmanhurst (Friar Tuck) is another lovingly drawn, fulsome character; the Grand Master Lucas Beaumanoir suitably terrible. The Tournament at Ashby and the attack on Torquilstone are well done. However, Scott was not 'at home' in the England of the 12th century, as he was in his own land of the 17th and 18th centuries - and it was bound to show.

Finally, finally, was Scott talking about early 19th century Scotland and the Hanoverian dynasty here?

Cedric's aversion to the Norman race of kings was also much undermined, - first, by consideration of the impossibility of ridding England of the new dynasty, a feeling which goes far to create loyalty in the subject...

'Ivanhoe' A Historical Drama 1823

50 Great War Films: Cross of Iron

 

Directed by Sam Peckinpah - 1977 poster

I made the mistake of researching Sam Peckinpah before watching the movie. What a self-destructive character! Even James Coburn thought he drank too much. Every day, Peckinpah was consuming 180˚ proof Slivovitz. Every two or three weeks, he would go on a binge which led to lost shooting days whilst he was allowed to regain his cognitive abilities! No wonder the film's costs overran - there was no more money to shoot the final scene (expected to take three days); so Coburn made the director film a quick improvised ending. Whilst later editing the rushes, Peckinpah added snorting cocaine to his drinking. I'm afraid, I have no empathy and little sympathy for such behaviour.

What of the movie itself. Reading that it was the story of a German unit retreating in the Russian Caucasus - and looking at the 'white' cover of the DVD, I assumed there would be plenty of action shots in a snow-filled landscape. No. It was the usual mud and bushes and trees (it was shot in Yugoslavia). Sergeant Rolf Steiner (James Coburn) leads a German platoon raid on a Russian forward outpost, kills Russians but captures a young boy. An aristocratic Prussian officer Captain Stransky (Maximilian Schell) turns up as the new commander of the battalion. He orders Steiner to shoot the boy. The latter is hustled away but, when told by Steiner to return to the Russian side, gets killed by his own army. One of the many brutal moments in the film.

Captain Stransky and Sergeant Steiner

(Maximilian Schell and James Coburn)

Steiner is wounded in a Russian attack and is sent to a military hospital to recover. He has a romantic fling with the nurse Eva (Senta Berger) - once again, an add-on for the cinema-goers? He returns to the 'Front' - is left behind in the retreat (purposely not being informed of this by Stransky). Before this, Stransky had lobbied for an Iron Cross (his real aim of coming to the Russian frontier). When asked by the regimental commander Oberst Brandt (James Mason), whether Stransky deserved the medal, Steiner makes it clear that Stransky had lied about being at the forefront of the conflict.

Oberst Brandt and Hauptmann Kiesel

(James Mason and David Warner)

During their ensuing forced retreat, Steiner's group captures an all-female Russian detachment (cue for nudity and more brutality which is best left unsaid). Using the Russian women's uniforms, Steiner leads his men to the new German front. The one unlikely (coincidental) bit occurs - Stransky is in charge of that very section and orders his side-kick, Lieut. Trieberg (a closet homosexual) to shoot Steiner's group. This nearly succeeds, but Trieberg is then dealt with by Steiner (more brutality). Finally, Stransky and Steiner meet up, look to retreat and the final scene is Steiner (presumably) being gunned down by a look-alike boy from the earlier episode, whilst Steiner gets away (presumably) laughing his head off!

There are some memorable lines: 

"I believe God is a sadist and probably doesn't even know it." (Steiner)

"For many of us Germans, the exterminator is long overdue." (Brandt)

"You pile of Prussian pig shit." (Steiner to Stransky)

(Senta Berger of Pekinpah): Brutality? He wanted to show that "beauty in dying, consciously. Life drifts away, the soul drifts away, the body falls to the ground."

Well, whatever. The film did not add to Peckinpah's reputation. The New York Times said it was his least interesting, least personal film in years...I can't believe that the director ever had his heart in this project, which, from the beginning, looks to have been prepared for the benefit of the people who set off explosives. It wasn't so much his 'heart' but his 'head' which was the problem!

Other comments included phrases such as graphic mayhem, violence-fixated,  and blood bath picture.

The Los Angeles Times reported: it becomes a wearying, numbing spectacle of carnage that tends to inure us to the violence it so graphically depicts.

The movie did poorly at the USA Box Office (the same year as the mega Star Wars), but performed well in Germany. Coburn said it was one of his favourite films he had been in!

As the Director of such films as The Wild Bunch and Straw Dogs, it's not surprising that Peckinpah's nickname was Bloody Sam. In his career, he directed as many 'misses' as 'hits'.

2015 DVD

Mary Brunton's 'Emmeline' 1819

 

Emmeline - first edition 1819

Emmeline was Mary Brunton's third but, alas, unfinished novel. It takes up just 100 pages of a volume brought out by her widower, Rev. Alexander Brunton, in 1819, under the title Emmeline, with some other pieces by Mary Brunton...to which is prefixed a Memoir of her Life... Mary had died, after giving birth to a still-born son,  I purchased the book on 23rd March 2020, for £45.

Mary had written to her brother, in October 1815, that a lofty moral is necessary to my style of thinking and writing; and really it is not easy to make such a one the ground-work of any story which novel readers will endure. She aimed to write a collection of short stories under the title of Domestic Tales, with a focus on her memories of Orkney. However, the Muse proved too faded about her native land, so she began the story of Emmeline. The plan was to show how little chance there is of happiness when a divorced wife marries her seducer. (It is interesting that she wrote to Joanna Baillie about the character of Hargrave in Self-Control that she wanted to bear testimony against the maxim as immoral as indelicate, that a reformed rake makes the best husband). The novel starts with a description of Emmeline's wedding to Sir Sidney de Clifford: a soldier of high fame..., a lover who adored her with all the energies of a powerful mind. She had youth and beauty and he was the husband of her choice whom she loved...yet the sigh which swelled her bosom was not the sigh of rapture - it was wrung from her by bitter recollections: for Emmeline had, before, been a bride.

As the story evolves, one finds out that she has left not only a living husband but young children; that her ex-husband generously sends her money; that her family have shunned her; that her new husband's mother and sister have moved out of the family home, unwilling to share it with her. 

In the Spring of 1818, Mary found out she was pregnant. Far from being excited about the future, it appears that she readied for a probable death, even choosing the clothes she wished to be buried in. Emmeline was stopped, after only five chapters had been written. Her husband persuaded Manners and Miller, Constable and John Murray (in London) to publish it. Luckily - if that is the right word - Mary had sketched out an Outline of the entire novel. It was to continue in the same depressing way:  Emmeline longs for her children; Sir Sidney wants his mother and sister; respectable people continue to keep their distance from the couple; she tries to see her children and actually meets her first husband; Sir Sidney gets angry and goes to rejoin the army, avowing his resolution never to return. I doubt whether such a miserable tale could extend to a three-decker novel. Both Self Control and Discipline could have been shortened, but they both had their humour and an array of characters and scenes.

The dream of the lawns of Eden at the very beginning of the novel will turn into a nightmare. Boredom is the mainspring of the couple's existence. Even the good natured characters - Mrs Villiers and the old curate - humiliate Emmeline by their actions or thoughts, e.g. the latter's compassion God help thee! poor thing - so young and yet so wicked! God help thee! The former's compassion is in a similar vein: Lovely, miserable thing! must thou, so formed to adorn virtue, charm only to disguise the deformity of vice! A weakness is that, in those five chapters at least, we find ourselves starting to sympathise with both Emmeline and Sir Sydney - the last thing we should be feeling towards sinful characters! Can we view the tale as a tragedy rather than a moral one?

Mary Brunton

1 November 1778 - 7 December 1818

50 Great War Films: A Bridge Too Far

 

Directed by Richard Attenborough - 1977 poster

Let's get one thing off my chest first: Richard Attenborough. Obviously, Oh! What A Lovely War! was meant to be part-theatre and, therefore, very stylised. But this all-action epic seems also to be made up of 'scenes', some of them very stylised indeed. Secondly, he seems in the business of 'collecting' big movies names for his pictures (and paying them reduced fees). I suppose he got his way by calling everyone 'Darling'.

Another poster

The above poster gives the game away slightly - the actors' faces are more important than the bridge[s]. It is well-known that Daphne du Maurier raged about the portrayal of her late husband. Lt. Gen. Sir Frederick "Boy" Browning (played by Dirk Bogarde), safely dead twelve years previously.  Two other officers, Major General Roy Urquhart (Sean Connery) and Lt. General Brian Horrocks (Edward Fox) acted as military advisers to the film, so they would hardly be featured unflatteringly. Michael Caine (Lt. Col. Vandeleur) still can't quite 'pull off' an officer class character; Anthony Hopkins (Lt. Col. Frost) was sound; and old favourites like Gerald Sim, Donald Pickering and Jeremy Kemp (recall Z-cars?!) did their bit. Laurence Olivier, another 'old pal' act for Attenborough, was his usual impressive self. As for the Germans, Maximilian Schell (General Wilhelm) and Hardy Kruger (Gen.Major Ludwig) were effective; and the American contingent - Ryan O'Neal (Brigadier-General Gavin) and Robert Redford (Major Cook) - provided the Box Office draw across the Atlantic. I was pleased to see a favourite of mine, Gene Hackman (playing a Polish officer Major-General Sosabowski) involved.

As for the film itself? Knowing the result of the foolhardy plan to drop 35,000 men, after being flown 300 miles from English air bases, behind German lines in the Netherlands, it was interesting to look out for the main reasons for the failure. Thinking only old men and boys would be the defenders rather than the actual SS infantry and Panzers; ignoring reconnaissance photos of partially hidden tanks; using a narrow single highway for the tanks and trucks backing up the airborne assault; the paratroopers dropping too far away from the bridge; the uselessness of the radio sets; all lead to disaster. 

The Nijmegen Bridge

This does not diminish the sheer bravery and guts of the various fighting forces. The attempt to stop the Germans crossing Nijmegen bridge is well done; the scenes of the wounded; the lunatics gaping through the trees - Do you think they know something we don't? says Sean Connery; a sky filled with descending parachutists; the collapsible boats being shelled on the river; all are powerful reminders of what a bloody thing war actually is.

The film was panned by some critics. Dear old Roger Ebert wrote: The movie's big and expensive and filled with stars, but it's not an epic. It's the longest B-grade war movie ever made. Gene Siskel said: More often than not, A Bridge Too Far isn't a story; it's a parade of famous faces. As for the battle footage, it is more often tedious than glamorous. The paratroop landing provides a spectacular five minutes. Other action footage is routine. Harsh, but some truth there. Others talked of a top-heavy complement of stars never allows for any focus of attention. But, I guess, that's Attenborough in a love-in with his mates. The movie was shunned by American critics and completely ignored at Oscar time. Another reason would have been that it criticised the Allied campaign. Americans don't 'do' failure.

2016 DVD

Scott's 'A Legend of Montrose' 1819

 

A later edition of the book

I have used a later edition of A Legend of Montrose as the first edition is that shown in my last blog on The Bride of Lammermoor. The former takes up the last one and half volumes of the four.  The short novel was written during May 1819, with perhaps some of the tale being written before its companion. The story occurs during the Earl of Montrose's 1644-1645 campaign in Scotland on behalf of King Charles I. In amongst the scenes of forced marches and battles are two subplots: a love triangle between Allan M'Aulay, his friend the Earl of Menteith, and a young girl brought up by the M'Aulays, Annot Lyle; and the adventures of Dugald Dalgetty a mercenary from the Thirty Years' War.

Dalgetty meets up with Menteith

Dalgetty meets Menteith and his two servants (one of whom is Montrose in disguise) early on, in Chapter II: the solitary stranger was mounted upon an able horse, fit for military service, and for the great weight which he had to carry, and his rider occupied his demipique, or war-saddle, with an air that showed it was his familiar seat...his age might be forty and upwards, and his countenance was that of a weather-beaten veteran... Scott wrote in an 1830 Introduction to the novel: Still Dalgetty, as the production of his own fancy, has been so far a favourite with its parent, that he has fallen into the error of assigning to the Captain too prominent a part in the story. In fact, if Dalgetty had not appeared the tale would have been rather flat. The scenes of his being taken to Argyle's castle at Inverary; his imprisonment; his meeting with Argyle himself in the dungeon; his escape and travails in the Highlands; are probably the most compelling of the novel. Dalgetty's catchphrases can eventually grate a little (but that is a typical Scott failing) e.g. the Mareschal-College of Aberdeen, and that invincible monarch, the bulwark of the Protestant faith, the Lion of the North, the terror of Austria, Gustavus the victorious. But one can forgive him much, due to his love and loyalty for his faithful horse, Gustavus. Moreover, his repetition to Sir Duncan Campbell on his failure to fortify the round hill in front of his castle, with a fosse or ditch, to make an impregnable sconce is quite amusing.

There are other interesting characters:

Annot Lyle playing the harp

The girl Annot Lyle, although we soon realise who she really is, is well drawn, as is the Son of the  Mist, Ranald MacEagh. Annot, most beautiful little fairy that ever danced upon a heath by moon-light...far exceeds the best performers in this country in playing on the clashach or harp is loved by the unstable, dangerous Allan and the gentler Menteith. Her stature, considerably less than the ordinary size of woman, gave her the appearance of extreme youth...her figure, hands, and feet, were formed upon a model of exquisite symmetry with the size and lightness of her person...her hair was a dark shade of the colour usually termed flaxen... It is Ranald who guides Dalgetty's escape from Inverary Castle: there lives not a man to whom the mountain passes, the caverns, the glens, the thickets and the corries are known, as they are to the Children of the Mist. 

Allan M'Aulay takes some swallowing as a realistic character - one critic called him Byronic.

It is abundantly clear which of Montrose and Argyle Sir Walter favours: the former was little above the middle size, but in person he was uncommonly well built, and capable both of exerting great force, and enduring much fatigue...he was perfect in all exercises, whether peaceful or martial, and possessed, of course, that graceful ease of deportment proper to those to whom habit has rendered all postures easy. There are another two pages praising the Earl. As for Argyle - dark complexion, furrowed forehead, and downcast look...something there was cold in his address and sinister in his look.

It has been suggested that Scott intended the novel to highlight the changing nature of warfare in the 17th century, 'showing how the lack of a professional army caused the "civilised" society of the Lowlands to become "temporarily vulnerable to the barbarous" society of the Highlands. Certainly one of the strengths of the tale is the description of the various skirmishes and battles.

The flight of Argyle

The Battle of Inverlochy was a signal success for Montrose and a demeaning disaster for Argyle, which included his flight on the loch. Scott also described the battle scene well. After that, the novel simply disentangles Annot Lyle's history, moves swiftly to her marriage with Lord Monteith, apart from the hiccough with Allan M'Aulay, and ends with a brief account of Dalgetty's further martial exploits and his wedded retirement to his paternal estate of Drumthwacket - very old, very deaf, and very full of interminable stories about the immortal Gustavus Adolphus, the Lion of the North, and the bulwark of the Protestant faith.

50 Great War Films: Tora! Tora! Tora!

 

Directed by Richard Fleischer - 1970 poster

I am going to start with our friend Roger Ebert, who felt that the movie was one of the deadliest, dullest blockbusters ever made and that it suffered from not having some characters to identify with.  He was equally scathing about The Battle of Britain. Well, I disagree and why should we have to identify with any of the characters? We weren't there - do we identify with actors/characters like John Wayne or Steve McQueen, anyway? Stupid criticism. Why can't we enjoy relatively factual historical events without having to feel part of them. I bet it was really because the film looked at the event from the Japanese point of view as well as the American and it showed Americans making mistakes. What I would agree with (as other critics highlighted) was that some of the 'action' scenes were clearly involving model ships and planes, and the same ship sinking/aircraft blowing up was seen from different angles later on. Yes, the plotline may have been slow, but it was trying to recreate the episodes leading up to that Sunday morning of 7th December 1949. And, yes, the need for all those captions - for personnel and places - felt excessive (and I still couldn't make out who-was-who half the time), but there were a lot of individuals involved. So, bah to Mr. Ebert.

American ships being destroyed

American planes being destroyed

The story is well known; the Americans were caught with 'their pants down' by the perfidious Japanese. However, the producer, Daryl F. Zanuck is on record as saying he wanted to correct the impression that American failure was wholly to blame as the film would show the brilliance of the Japanese operation as well. Not surprisingly, the movie was received more enthusiastically in Japan than the USA. Some critics blamed poor acting, but I thought Martin Balsam (Admiral Kimmel), E.G. Marshall (Lt. Col. Bratton), Jason Robards (General Water Short), George Macready (Secretary of State Cordell Hull), So Yamamura (Admiral Yamamoto), Takahiro Tamura (Lt. Commander Fuchida ) and Eijiro Tono (Admiral Nagumo) were more than adequate. The film was all the better for not having so-called 'A' listers preening themselves.

 

The Japanese on the High Seas 

 

The use of old-fashioned telephones - even now outdated telegrams - papers being shoved into brief cases etc - that simplistic world before the Internet and smartphone!

The film had its world premiere on 23 September 1970 in New York, Tokyo, Honolulu and Los Angeles. It was the ninth highest grossing film of 1970 and was a major hit in Japan.

2001 DVD

50 Great War Films: Patton

 

Directed by Franklin J. Schaffner - 1970 poster

One can see why George C. Scott won an Oscar for his portrayal of General George S. Patton, the larger-than-life, arrogant, bombastic World War II general. Inevitably it was popular with Americans, as so many model their own lives on the same swaggering attitude. The film is also a study in contrast with Karl Malden (General Omar N. Bradley). The latter served as a consultant for the film and this may well have had a large influence on the image of Patton. The two men were polar opposites in personality, and it appears that Bradley despised Patton, both personally and professionally. Scott certainly gives a realistic and powerful impression of Patton. Our friend, the critic Roger Ebery, said It is one of those sublime performances in which the personalities of the actor and the character are fulfilled in one another. Another critic regarded the portrayal as a tour de force.

The opening shot, of Patton mounting a 'stage', in front of a huge American flag, to address the troops (who are never seen) is rightly lauded. We then follow him through North Africa, leading the American II Corps. After success there, Patton and Montgomery come up with competing plans for the Allied invasion of Sicily. Montgomery's is chosen by the Supreme Commander General Eisenhower, only for Patton to 'disobey' orders and carry out his plan anyway. There is the famous scene of him slapping a shell-shocked US Private for 'cowardice'. (In reality, there were two such occasions). Relieved of his command and forced to apologise to all and sundry, Patton is sidelined as a 'decoy' leading up to the D-Day landings (the Germans believed it was a trick prior to invasion through Calais!) Bradley, his former subordinate, is now his senior officer. Patton is put in charge of the Third Army and brilliantly advances through France and into Germany, always complaining about favours shown to Bernard Montgomery (in Sicily and then Normandy and onwards to Operation Market Garden). Patton's big mouth loses him his command yet again. The final shot is of him walking his bull terrier, Willie, across the German countryside.

Bull terrier 'Willie' with Patton

What the film did not do, was to end with Patton's  rather mundane death - seriously injured in an automobile accident (where his neck was broken) he died in Germany on 21 December 1945, aged only sixty. He was buried in the Luxembourg American Cemetery. Eisenhower wrote later of him: He was one of those men born to be a soldier, an ideal combat leader -  it is no exaggeration to say that Patton's name struck terror at the hearts of the enemy.

I didn't dislike the film, although it pandered (adversely) to my opinion of Americans! It was no surprise to hear the line that 50,00 men (G.I's) on this island would like to shoot that son of a bitch...our blood, his guts. One tank battle is rather like any other, the main difference being whether it's fought in sand or snow. It was Richard Nixon's favourite film - enough said!

2011 DVD

Scott's 'The Bride of Lammermoor' 1819

 

   

The Bride of Lammermuir - first edition 1819

When the last laird of Ravenswood to Ravenswood shall ride

And woo a dead maiden to be his bride,

He shall stable his steed in the Kelpie's flow,

And his name shall be lost for evermoe!

The legend is that The Bride of Lammermoor was written by an author in considerable pain. It was the product of a drugged and abnormal condition...yet there are no loose ends in the book. (John Buchan)  However, the manuscript is written in Scott's normal hand, showing no trace of illness. It seems more likely that he had nearly completed it before he became ill. I purchased the four volume first edition on 5th October 1985, for only £10.

The main incidents of the tale are founded on real events taking place in the Scottish families of Lord Rutherford (the original of Ravenswood) and Lord Stair (the Lord Keeper Sir William Ashton - whose disposition was crafty and not cruel and who had spent his life in securing advantages to himself by artfully working upon the passions of others), such as the enmity between the families and the love of their descendants for each other. Lady Ashton is intimated by Scott to represent Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, and her conduct in the story to be founded on that of Lady Stair. Her only interest was herself: she no more lost sight of her object than the falcon in his airy wheel turns his quick eyes from his destined quarry. She is Lady Macbeth to Ashton's vacillating Macbeth.

The character of Bucklaw, bears some resemblance to the Laird of Baldoon. I am Frank Hayston of Bucklaw, and no man injures me by word, deed, sign, or look, but he must render me an account of it.

Ailsie Gourlay is a prototype of that period in Scottish history. One could also surmise that Colonel Douglas Ashton was not unlike Shakespeare's Tybalt in Romeo and Juliet. In fact, there is much to link the story to Romeo and Juliet: Volume I Chapter IV and Volume II Chapter VI both start with extracts from the play. However, one could argue there are three witchlike figures (Macbeth) and elements of Richard III and Hamlet sneaking in!

The warnings of the two old, faithful servants of the Ravenswood family - Alice Gray and Caleb Balderstone - convince any reader that ill fortune awaits Edgar Ravenswood and Lucy Ashton.

Lucy Ashton and the Master of Ravenswood

at Mermaiden's Well

One is aware of a sense of marching fatality (Buchan). Lucy is gentle and mild, rather than weak or stupid, and possesses strong affections, unlike her tricky father or vindictive mother. Ravenswood is a tragic figure who dominates the story. Her gentle beauty attracts him and his dark intensity fascinates her. The scene when he returns (founded on the real event) and denounces the Ashtons is powerful; including the crossing of 'swords' with the Presbyterian clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Bide-the-Bent (a typical humorous Scott name) frae the Mosshead.

Lammermoor returns to confront the Ashtons

Craigengelt is a typical Scott character - a scheming parasite, whom we can despise. The Marquis of A--, in whom the fire of ambition had for some years replaced the vivacity of youth; a bold, proud, expression of countenance, yet chastened by habitual caution, is another well-drawn figure. Lady Ashton employing Lucky Ailsie Gourlay to frighten her daughter by stories and prophesies about the Ravenswood family is sheer evil. Gourlay and the other two village ancients - Annie Winnie and Maggie - remind one of the first scene in Macbeth; Scott's three earthly witches are really cunning, malevolent old crones, hated of all and hating and they function as a chorus.

What little humour there is comes from Caleb Balderston, whose attachment to the house of Ravenswood was the principal passion of his mind. His various schemes to hide the truth of his master's poverty are very amusing. He represents the past, freezing Edgar in his feudal role, inventing new falsehoods and excuses. Caleb provides both comedy and pathos.  There are also the lovely cameos from Johnny Mortsheugh, the grave-digger and  the cooper's family in Wolf's-hope.

Caleb's 'fire' at Wolf's Crag

The first sight we have of Wolf's Crag is ominous: the tower itself, which, tall and narrow, and built of greyish stone, stood glimmering in the moonlight, like the sheeted spectre of some huge giant. A wilder, or more disconsolate dwelling, it was perhaps difficult to conceive. The sombrous and heavy sound of the billows, successively dashing against the rocky beach at a profound distance beneath, was to the ear what the landscape was to the eye - a symbol of unvaried and monotonous melancholy, not unmingled with horror. Gothic nightmares, here we come! The final chapter is Scott's own invention, with its telling of Ravenswood's and Balderstone's fates, and it piles on the tragic element.

Let Buchan have the last word: The book, Scott's single unrelieved tragedy, stands apart from the rest. It has none of his mellow philosophy or his confidence in the ultimate justice of things....for all its magnificence, it is outside the succession of the greatest tragedies, for it wounds without healing, and perturbs without consoling... in his sickness things came to Scott out of primordial deeps.