Malta in 1942 was a thorn in the side of the Germans, particularly Rommel's Afrika Corps. The island is located just south of Sicily in the path of the convoys from Mediterranean ports that are supplying Rommel's army in northern Africa. A dangerous maximum effort from Malta is sinking the ships that are carrying supplies to Rommel. If the effort isn't continued it appears that Rommel will take Egypt and the Suez Canal, with calamitous results for the Allies. The Germans are bombing hell out of Malta and its supply ships in an attempt to starve the civilian population and the British military.
Alec Guiness is a Spitfire pilot accidentally stranded on Malta and drafted into carrying out perilous photo-reconnaissance missions over Italian ports. But fuel is in such short supply that he is thoroughly pranged by his CO, Jack Hawkins, for taking a 90-mile detour to photograph some trains and marshaling yards. Well, everything is in short supply. Civilians are eating scraps out of garbage cans.
The movie is short on dramatic displays too, which is fine with me. Nobody weeps. Guiness's fiancée, Muriel Pavlow, learns of his death in the line of duty and her face becomes stony. That's about it.
Guiness himself delivers an understated performance as the former archaeologist turned airman. No chance for bravura acting here. He moves through the story determined and optimistic, but thoughtful too. The Maltese people are culturally Italian and they should by rights be shouting, dashing around, and running off at the hands, but they're put into a British duck press here so that they too are reserved and uncomplaining.
Exteriors were filmed on Malta and in 1953, only eight years after the war, still showed the effects of the ceaseless bombardment by German aircraft. Yet it's a picturesque place. Anthony Burgess spent some years at work there, and it looks like a fine place to visit in summer, with enough sunshine to equal good old Hollywood -- and no smog or traffic jams.
There are some -- not many -- scenes of combat. They're a well-executed blend of newsreel footage and model work. Some of the shots suggest that the production was able to muster three or four Spitfires and have them zoom about the island and taxi through the dust. The Spitfires are of varying models. Some have their wing tips clipped off, a procedure designed to increase their roll rate, but depriving their wings of that exquisite elliptical shape.
There is nothing in the story about this but the British had cracked the code used in German messages regarding ships and sailing times, so they were able to conduct their interceptions of shipping with a minimum of milling around. (The handful of submarines did an equally effective job.) It was of course imperative that the decoding be kept secret. So important that as one attack was begun, the directors back on the island discovered that the ship was carrying Allied POWs, but had to be carried out nonetheless.
Nice job by all concerned without being in any way in the neighborhood of innovation or art. When Guiness is done with his last heroic mission his airplane is intercepted by Messerschmidts and he is shot down and killed. There is no blood, no expression of pain, no last few words gasped out about his fiancée back on Malta. We simply see his instrument panel explode in a hail of bullets, Guiness's eyes rolling upward, and then a cut to a long shot of a miniature model whining slowly down into the sea and leaving a trail of black smoke behind. It's pretty tasteful.
Alec Guiness is a Spitfire pilot accidentally stranded on Malta and drafted into carrying out perilous photo-reconnaissance missions over Italian ports. But fuel is in such short supply that he is thoroughly pranged by his CO, Jack Hawkins, for taking a 90-mile detour to photograph some trains and marshaling yards. Well, everything is in short supply. Civilians are eating scraps out of garbage cans.
The movie is short on dramatic displays too, which is fine with me. Nobody weeps. Guiness's fiancée, Muriel Pavlow, learns of his death in the line of duty and her face becomes stony. That's about it.
Guiness himself delivers an understated performance as the former archaeologist turned airman. No chance for bravura acting here. He moves through the story determined and optimistic, but thoughtful too. The Maltese people are culturally Italian and they should by rights be shouting, dashing around, and running off at the hands, but they're put into a British duck press here so that they too are reserved and uncomplaining.
Exteriors were filmed on Malta and in 1953, only eight years after the war, still showed the effects of the ceaseless bombardment by German aircraft. Yet it's a picturesque place. Anthony Burgess spent some years at work there, and it looks like a fine place to visit in summer, with enough sunshine to equal good old Hollywood -- and no smog or traffic jams.
There are some -- not many -- scenes of combat. They're a well-executed blend of newsreel footage and model work. Some of the shots suggest that the production was able to muster three or four Spitfires and have them zoom about the island and taxi through the dust. The Spitfires are of varying models. Some have their wing tips clipped off, a procedure designed to increase their roll rate, but depriving their wings of that exquisite elliptical shape.
There is nothing in the story about this but the British had cracked the code used in German messages regarding ships and sailing times, so they were able to conduct their interceptions of shipping with a minimum of milling around. (The handful of submarines did an equally effective job.) It was of course imperative that the decoding be kept secret. So important that as one attack was begun, the directors back on the island discovered that the ship was carrying Allied POWs, but had to be carried out nonetheless.
Nice job by all concerned without being in any way in the neighborhood of innovation or art. When Guiness is done with his last heroic mission his airplane is intercepted by Messerschmidts and he is shot down and killed. There is no blood, no expression of pain, no last few words gasped out about his fiancée back on Malta. We simply see his instrument panel explode in a hail of bullets, Guiness's eyes rolling upward, and then a cut to a long shot of a miniature model whining slowly down into the sea and leaving a trail of black smoke behind. It's pretty tasteful.