In the early 1960s the world of international cinema was in a state of revolution, what with the French nouvelle vague and the emergence of an alternative culture in Carnaby Street. In its historical context, this film, directed by Joseph Losey and starring Tom Courtenay as the skinny deserter and the aristocratic Dirk Bogarde as his defending officer, is a bit retrograde.
True, no movie about the First World War has ever seemed quite so thoroughly drowned in mud -- the rain is constant, the bunker walls run with water like cataracts, every surface drips -- and there are multiple shots of dead bodies, including a scene involving a horse carcass filled with joyous rats.
But otherwise the story is both dismal and predictable. NONE of these guys on trial for their lives over a stupid and impulsive act ever gets off -- not Private Slovik, not the four French grunts in Kubrick's "Paths of Glory," not even Herman Melville's "Billy Budd." How can you expose the futility of war without someone's dying a pointless death at the hands of a feckless justice system? Not that Hodson and Jones, the writers, have caved. The officers of the court are reasonable and just or, at worst, no more stupid than the men they govern. They're just following the rules. It's the law that's really on trial.
The action is all studio-bound -- the mud puddles, garbage dumps, trenches, jails, and bunkers. There are occasional inserts of still photos to give us some idea of the larger context.
The performances certainly can't be faulted. Courtenay and Bogarde are both outstanding, and the supporting parts by actors like Barry Foster (who went on to become the "sex murderer" in Hitchcock's "Frenzy") are all up to par.
Losey's direction is also hard to fault. The guy has a painter's eye for composition, and there is a scene in which Bogarde stumbles into his CO's underground office and the two converse about the trial and the death verdict. The CO is in the brightly lighted foreground. Bogarde sits in relative darkness beside him, farther from the camera. And nobody looks at anyone else. When Bogarde makes an outrageous remark, the CO barely turns his head before responding with something like, "A bit short on ceremony, aren't we?" There's a good deal of easy symbolism too. The other prisoners in the jail manage to catch some of the many rats feeding off corpses. They capture and torment them. And Bogarde, on his way to have it out with the CO, the death sentence in hand, slips to his hands and knees, and for the rest of the scene the piece of paper is dripping with mud and Bogarde's hands are covered with filth.
The point of it all is, I suppose, that if a man spends years doing whatever he is told on the front line, sees all the other members of his platoon blown to bits, receives a letter informing him that his wife is betraying him, and walks dizzily away towards home -- we shouldn't kill him for it.
World War I was one of the world's more mismanaged wars. There was an impassable line drawn between the ordinary soldier and the officer class, on both sides. If you lost ten men and the enemy lost eleven, the victory was yours. Americans seem to have a more difficult time grasping the significance of World War I, and it's understandable. The Allies fought the bloodiest battles during the first three years while American industry profited by selling goods to both sides. Unlike all the countries of Europe, our was never bombed or shelled. Worse was to come in another twenty years, of course, but thank God our understanding of stress responses had become more sophisticated.
True, no movie about the First World War has ever seemed quite so thoroughly drowned in mud -- the rain is constant, the bunker walls run with water like cataracts, every surface drips -- and there are multiple shots of dead bodies, including a scene involving a horse carcass filled with joyous rats.
But otherwise the story is both dismal and predictable. NONE of these guys on trial for their lives over a stupid and impulsive act ever gets off -- not Private Slovik, not the four French grunts in Kubrick's "Paths of Glory," not even Herman Melville's "Billy Budd." How can you expose the futility of war without someone's dying a pointless death at the hands of a feckless justice system? Not that Hodson and Jones, the writers, have caved. The officers of the court are reasonable and just or, at worst, no more stupid than the men they govern. They're just following the rules. It's the law that's really on trial.
The action is all studio-bound -- the mud puddles, garbage dumps, trenches, jails, and bunkers. There are occasional inserts of still photos to give us some idea of the larger context.
The performances certainly can't be faulted. Courtenay and Bogarde are both outstanding, and the supporting parts by actors like Barry Foster (who went on to become the "sex murderer" in Hitchcock's "Frenzy") are all up to par.
Losey's direction is also hard to fault. The guy has a painter's eye for composition, and there is a scene in which Bogarde stumbles into his CO's underground office and the two converse about the trial and the death verdict. The CO is in the brightly lighted foreground. Bogarde sits in relative darkness beside him, farther from the camera. And nobody looks at anyone else. When Bogarde makes an outrageous remark, the CO barely turns his head before responding with something like, "A bit short on ceremony, aren't we?" There's a good deal of easy symbolism too. The other prisoners in the jail manage to catch some of the many rats feeding off corpses. They capture and torment them. And Bogarde, on his way to have it out with the CO, the death sentence in hand, slips to his hands and knees, and for the rest of the scene the piece of paper is dripping with mud and Bogarde's hands are covered with filth.
The point of it all is, I suppose, that if a man spends years doing whatever he is told on the front line, sees all the other members of his platoon blown to bits, receives a letter informing him that his wife is betraying him, and walks dizzily away towards home -- we shouldn't kill him for it.
World War I was one of the world's more mismanaged wars. There was an impassable line drawn between the ordinary soldier and the officer class, on both sides. If you lost ten men and the enemy lost eleven, the victory was yours. Americans seem to have a more difficult time grasping the significance of World War I, and it's understandable. The Allies fought the bloodiest battles during the first three years while American industry profited by selling goods to both sides. Unlike all the countries of Europe, our was never bombed or shelled. Worse was to come in another twenty years, of course, but thank God our understanding of stress responses had become more sophisticated.