Now, when I sit down to watch a war movie, I expect a bare minimum of glorious carnage. Sadly, none of the ingredients of a fun-filled afternoon - mountains of mutilated corpses, napalm rain lighting up screaming peasants, flak guns tearing through the flesh of the unworthy, crania grinding underneath triumphant Panzer tracks - are present in this so called "war movie".
Seriously, where IS the war? There are some partisans and Japanese soldiers shooting at each other a couple of times, and a few grounded planes blowing up during a raid. That's about it. The little combat there is, is of such low intensity or urgency that it makes the opening blurb (about the heroes in Burma saving democracy from untold numbers of evil imperialist minions) look a little confusing, to say the least. Indeed, this movie never misses an opportunity to leave the scene of action for a trip into town. As soon as a modicum of martial tension is built up, Sturges instead chooses to wind down completely.
After a brief opening scuffle with the Japanese, Captain Sinatra and his second leave for city HQ to request a doctor, or whatever. They go to a nightclub, where Frankie boy falls in love with the trophy companion of a local bigshot. She does not seem impressed at first, but we, of course, KNOW that she will not be able to resist the charm of Ol' Blue Eyes. After completing their phoney, bogus, bastard excuse for a "mission", the two soldiers - still in the city - receive two weeks leave out of the blue, which Sinatra of course spends on sweeping the young lady off her feet. When they finally get back to the jungle, an hour of the movie has already transpired. Frankie is immediately wounded, which means back to the city for more sweet lovin'. And it goes on like this.
Even as a romance, the movie is a complete joke. Not only is there zero chemistry between the lovers, the concept of Lollobrigida's rich "owner" being the jealous type - which is strongly hinted at - is also completely disregarded. This would probably have moved the movie even further away from its front as a "war movie", but really, it had already abandoned the pretense of being a war movie long before that potential idea could be explored. During the first half of the romance, the lovers exchange snide remarks ("Go back to the jungle, soldier boy!", "You're just a piece of furniture!", etc.), whereas the second half consists of the two sitting around talking about how many children they will have. Excuse me while I look away.
The flick transforms into courtroom drama towards the end, which is also the only remotely interesting plot-detour in the entire movie, but it comes too late to make any difference. Apparently, Sturges remembered that Sinatra was supposed to save democracy as well as looking good in a suit, so Frankie goes defying some international law. He is indicted, but since his actions exposed the forces of evil, he is cleared of all charges and democracy wins. Hooray.
I respect Sinatra as an artist, but I have yet to see him make an impact as an actor. He seems to lack the gravitas for the "officer" part of his character here, and comes off as arrogant most of the time. Bronson and McQueen shine in their supporting roles, but are not on screen long enough to save this mess, and Lollobrigida is almost as pathetic an actress as Sophia Loren (who also tumorously thrived on roles like this).
Don't bother.
Seriously, where IS the war? There are some partisans and Japanese soldiers shooting at each other a couple of times, and a few grounded planes blowing up during a raid. That's about it. The little combat there is, is of such low intensity or urgency that it makes the opening blurb (about the heroes in Burma saving democracy from untold numbers of evil imperialist minions) look a little confusing, to say the least. Indeed, this movie never misses an opportunity to leave the scene of action for a trip into town. As soon as a modicum of martial tension is built up, Sturges instead chooses to wind down completely.
After a brief opening scuffle with the Japanese, Captain Sinatra and his second leave for city HQ to request a doctor, or whatever. They go to a nightclub, where Frankie boy falls in love with the trophy companion of a local bigshot. She does not seem impressed at first, but we, of course, KNOW that she will not be able to resist the charm of Ol' Blue Eyes. After completing their phoney, bogus, bastard excuse for a "mission", the two soldiers - still in the city - receive two weeks leave out of the blue, which Sinatra of course spends on sweeping the young lady off her feet. When they finally get back to the jungle, an hour of the movie has already transpired. Frankie is immediately wounded, which means back to the city for more sweet lovin'. And it goes on like this.
Even as a romance, the movie is a complete joke. Not only is there zero chemistry between the lovers, the concept of Lollobrigida's rich "owner" being the jealous type - which is strongly hinted at - is also completely disregarded. This would probably have moved the movie even further away from its front as a "war movie", but really, it had already abandoned the pretense of being a war movie long before that potential idea could be explored. During the first half of the romance, the lovers exchange snide remarks ("Go back to the jungle, soldier boy!", "You're just a piece of furniture!", etc.), whereas the second half consists of the two sitting around talking about how many children they will have. Excuse me while I look away.
The flick transforms into courtroom drama towards the end, which is also the only remotely interesting plot-detour in the entire movie, but it comes too late to make any difference. Apparently, Sturges remembered that Sinatra was supposed to save democracy as well as looking good in a suit, so Frankie goes defying some international law. He is indicted, but since his actions exposed the forces of evil, he is cleared of all charges and democracy wins. Hooray.
I respect Sinatra as an artist, but I have yet to see him make an impact as an actor. He seems to lack the gravitas for the "officer" part of his character here, and comes off as arrogant most of the time. Bronson and McQueen shine in their supporting roles, but are not on screen long enough to save this mess, and Lollobrigida is almost as pathetic an actress as Sophia Loren (who also tumorously thrived on roles like this).
Don't bother.
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