Tuesday, 31 March 2020

Reflections on "Apocalypse Now"




Reflections on “Apocalypse Now”

Directed by Francis Ford Coppola

Written by John Milius and Francis Ford Coppola

Starring Martin Sheen, Robert Duvall and Marlon Brando


A video presentation of this material is available here.

At the height of the Vietnam war, American officer Captain Benjamin Willard is called to a meeting with his superiors, the upshot of which is that he is assigned the mission of terminating the command of American Colonel Walter Kurtz who has established what amounts to a renegade militia in Cambodia and is using methods his commanding officers find questionable and run contrary to their moral and ethical standards.

Willard is to follow the course up the Nung river taken by Kurtz and, en route to his base, Willard will encounter what Kurtz experienced on his journey and will develop an understanding of his prey’s character, reasoning and evolution. As will we, the audience.

Willard is a capable and experienced officer but he is profoundly troubled. Through a brilliant series of vignettes, we are given to understand that he has seen much action, violence and destruction, and that he may have lost perspective on what he has gone through and what life can mean. He has lived at such a heightened pace and level of adrenalin that he can no longer cope with civilian life, or indeed peace and quiet at all. He is almost detached from regular life and needs to be surrounded by threat and action to feel alive and have purpose, and that is when he copes best.



Willard’s skills and mindset make him the perfect weapon or tool to carry out the mission to eliminate the Colonel who is causing embarrassment by not adhering to the military’s code of ethics and conduct. Kurtz is accused of murder and using methods that raise doubts about his very sanity. Willard’s superiors use reasoned argument and legalistic language to justify their position and the action they are sanctioning, and they are apparently unaware of their own hypocrisy and fail to recognise the irony in the fact that they are commissioning a murder in response to their dismay at the murders committed by Kurtz. The bottom line is that Kurtz is to be assassinated because he has taken the military imperative to destroy the enemy to heart and is using what he considers the most effective methods and means to achieve that goal, but methods and means not in keeping with the veneer of respectability military command wishes to maintain.

Using a navy patrol boat and its crew, Willard makes his way up the Nung River to reach Kurtz and his base. As they travel ever farther from what is familiar and accepted, they go more deeply into waters and experiences that test their mettle and also their perceptions of warfare, civilisation and humanity. The farther they go, the less rules of engagement, order and sanity seem to apply.

They come across Lt Col Kilgore who will help relay them upriver. In order to do so, he and his airborne forces attack and destroy a seemingly peaceful and idyllic coastal village, principally because of the good surfing conditions in the waters nearby.

This sequence imparts the devastation, agony and chaos of battle quite brilliantly. The sudden contrast between the relaxed calm of everyday life and the indiscriminate destruction inflicted by military forces is quite breath-taking and totally engaging in its intensity and unpredictability. Like those involved in the action, our senses are assaulted and we don’t know what will happen next, leaving us quite disorientated. We are starting to share some of the experiences, thoughts and feelings Willard and Kurtz might have known.



The single greatest source of calm, composure and clarity of purpose in this action is Kilgore, an officer so immersed in and conditioned by warfare, violence and bloodshed that he has become desensitised to battle, danger and suffering. The authority to make life-and-death decisions for others, combined with the ease of their implementation, with little or no apparent control over his actions, has undoubtedly affected his judgement and his attitude toward responsibility and humanity. Perhaps in an effort to impose sanity on his circumstances, or to find a way to survive and cope mentally, he appears to have lost focus on purely military objectives and has personalised his mission, focusing on opportunities for surfing and opting not to see potential danger in indulging this activity. He is a good officer in terms of organisation and the mechanics of command, but he appears to have lost sight of the bigger picture.



Willard and the boat crew make a stop to pick up supplies and they are surprised to find the post bathed in light, with troops gathered in noisy and good-hearted anticipation in a specially built amphitheatre overlooking a water-borne stage set for a show. There is great excitement and a request for fuel by a member of Willard’s crew is ignored in favour of the selling of souvenirs, causing the professional and highly focused Willard to lose his temper and threaten the offending soldier. Shortly afterward, a helicopter deposits three Playboy Playmates of the month to dance for and entertain the troops, leading to a breakdown in discipline, general chaos and the hurried departure of the girls and the helicopter. This also leads to a brief meditation by Willard on how the enemy receives no such treats and is hardened and more focused as a result. This is one of several instances of implied criticism of the incorporation of entertainment and home culture in the daily lives of young conscripted soldiers in the struggle to defeat a determined, focused and enduring enemy.

When they reach Do Lung, the last American outpost on the river, they are confronted with scenes of sheer chaos, fear and bewilderment, with soldiers driven by the fundamental desire to survive. There is a repeated and existentially wearing cycle of action with a bridge being built or repaired during the day, only to be damaged or destroyed at night. There appears to be no chain of command and little clarity of purpose or order. In military terms, it is directionless and a stalemate, while in human terms it borders on nihilism and depression with soldiers left to question the purpose and point of their presence there and their lives reduced to relying on instinct to survive and destroy the enemy.



Willard sees and experiences all this but Kurtz saw it before him. Being a professional, Willard wants to know his target and so he studies and shares details of Kurtz’s career with us. Destined for one of the top positions in the military, Kurtz effectively renounced promotion to join Special Forces when he was 38. He put personal conviction and action above career, perhaps believing he could achieve more in the field than from a desk. Willard appears to admire him and, in following in his footsteps, is learning to understand him and how he reached this position.

There is minor conflict between Willard and the Chief, who is nominally in charge of the boat. The Chief understands and follows regular orders but he is very apprehensive of people like Willard as he senses danger and threat in him. As they approach Kurtz’s base, the boat and crew are attacked by tribesmen throwing sticks and the odd spear. The Chief is fatally wounded by one of these spears but before he dies, he tries to kill Willard by pulling him on to the spear head protruding from his chest, perhaps because, by instinct, the Chief hopes that this cycle of death will be halted if he stops Willard and his like. It is ironic that Willard has similar feelings toward Kurtz and is set on taking similar action.



Within Kurtz’s camp, all trappings of civilisation have been abandoned. All of Kurtz’s followers have suffered the psychological horrors we have encountered on our journey to the camp and life has been reduced to death or survival, with Kurtz deciding people’s fates. He is accepted as leader perhaps because of his purity of purpose and his ruthlessness, and he rules by fear and dread.

Eventually, Kurtz offers an explanation for his methods. After immunising some children in a village, the enemy arrived and, to show displeasure and enforce compliance, they hacked off the arms of the children who had been immunised. It was at this point that Kurtz had an epiphany – the only way to defeat such an enemy was to apply the same strength of purpose and have the strength to manipulate horror in your own favour. Thus, conflict is stripped of all niceties, facades and pretences at standards and morality in favour of the purity of horror as the ultimate weapon and means of destroying your enemy.



Kurtz could easily have had Willard killed but instead he engages in a vaguely philosophical discussion with him. Perhaps Kurtz views him as an equal and wishes to receive his understanding and approval, or perhaps he sees himself in Willard and recognises the validity of his mission and Willard’s right to exercise his judgement just as Kurtz had done.

The imagery is clear when Willard kills Kurtz. Kurtz is being brutally sacrificed to protect and maintain the façade of civilised warfare. He was a good soldier and as such became a product and perhaps victim of his own profession, as he took his task to its logical conclusion rather than playing the game expected of him.

After killing Kurtz, Willard re-emerges to face the horde of Kurtz’s followers. As Willard drops his weapon, both physically and symbolically, the followers drop theirs and they appear ready to accept him as their new leader, but Willard gets in the boat to leave. Having followed Kurtz’s path and shown the same strength, determination and occasional ruthlessness as Kurtz, he could easily have taken on his mantle. However, Willard has stated he is no longer part of the military, perhaps implying he has developed beyond their code of conduct, or even that he no longer recognises authority. He lacks the ambition, drive and ego of Kurtz and, more importantly, he may have developed an existential understanding beyond that of Kurtz and he sees that only by laying down his weapons and allowing people to lead their own lives will the ceaseless cycle of bloodshed and dependence come to an end. Kurtz has therefore also been sacrificed on the altar of peace and freedom.



If an acceptable definition of art is “an attempt to convey concepts, ideas and emotions, typically through words, images or sound, in a concise and engaging manner”, then “Apocalypse Now” is, for me, a work of art. The storyline and imagery lend themselves to an onslaught on the senses and the mind, leading the viewer down the same existential path as Willard and Kurtz and allowing us to understand this descent into murder and mayhem while warning us off this road.


My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie



Sunday, 22 March 2020

Reflections on characters and themes in "Spartacus" (1960)




Reflections on “Spartacus”

Written by Dalton Trumbo

Directed by Stanley Kubrick

Starring Kirk Douglas, Laurence Olivier, Charles Laughton,
Jean Simmons and Peter Ustinov



A video presentation of this material is available here.

This film from 1960 recounts the true and inspiring story of Spartacus and his fellow slaves who led a revolt against their Roman enslavement often referred to as the Third Servile War, in or around 72 BC. More broadly speaking, the film presents a denunciation of slavery and any society that prospers by incorporating subservience and subjugation in its ethos and laws.

The Roman Empire was founded on a society that embraced slavery, developed it and thrived on it, making it an integral part of social and economic systems for centuries. In the film, we are invited to observe the customs, attitudes and workings of this society, and the potential consequences of slavery, through a variety of Romans as well as slaves.

The quarry guards at the start of the film set the scene, showing no regard for the wellbeing, dignity or worth of their slave charges and treating them as animals to be commanded and directed.



Batiatus, the owner of a local gladiatorial training school, arrives at the quarry in search of candidates for training. He treats the slaves as objects or animals to be inspected, judged and bought if considered a worthwhile investment. Batiatus is depicted as cunning, obsequious and cowardly, but he is not cruel or vindictive. He accepts the status quo and acts as a typical Roman citizen, pursuing his own best interests in the established social order, fawning over Patrician visitors of high social rank while displaying little or no consideration for his slaves’ feelings, rights or thoughts. They are an investment, objects to be used, trained and sold off at profit with no thought for their self-respect or destinies.

The trainers at the school may be men who have fought as gladiators and received their freedom for having pleased their masters in the arena. As such, and having known the conditions and social position of slave-gladiators, they enjoy exercising authority over Spartacus and his co-slaves, seizing the opportunity to feel superior to someone and boosting their self-image.



The upper end of the social spectrum is represented by Crassus, one of the wealthiest men in Rome and one who seeks ways to realise his Patrician ambitions to become ruler of Rome and its Empire. He arrives at the gladiator school with some noble friends who wish to see a display of gladiatorial skill, including a fight to the death. Batiatus is most reluctant to accede to their request, realising the consequences on mood and morale of his trainees, but these noble visitors insist, offer to pay Batiatus well and go on to treat the spectacle of two men fighting to the death as mere entertainment and even haughtily and distractedly discuss matters of politics and position in the course of the life-and-death combat. This reveals a quite shocking indifference toward the lives of these slaves, but also toward humanity as a whole.



We are also introduced to Senator Gracchus, an ageing and wily opponent of Crassus who keeps slaves but is determined to maintain a happy household. His is the slightly more acceptable and more human face of Roman dictatorship. He even appears willing, at one point, to allow Spartacus and his followers to leave Italy, but can he survive the political chicanery at play, and the desire to protect and maintain Rome’s position and power based on authority and the merciless exercise of its might?

In terms of its attitude toward those who enabled it to survive, thrive and prosper, Roman society is portrayed as condescending, dismissive, self-centred and decadent. It sowed the seeds of its own destruction as it instigated and incited resentment and hatred based on a profound sense of injustice. The very lack of hope and expectation that permeated treatment of slaves and the lower orders, and which was intended to facilitate subjugation and compliance, only served to nourish bitterness, courage and daring among our slave-gladiators – if people are left with no reason to live, they may as well die in trying to find one.



From the opening scenes in the quarry, emphasis is laid on the deprivation of freedom, rights, dignity and personal choice of slaves. They are viewed as human objects, there to do the bidding of their master. Enslaved as a result of conquest, defeat or from birth, they are divested of hope and expectation as they belong to another.

Spartacus has refused to bow to this destiny and he displays resentment as he rebels against quarry guards who show no humanity or compassion toward weak and exhausted slave workers. In contrast, Spartacus shows a desire to help a fellow slave worker but is punished for it.



In training, he shows intelligence, self-control and some warmth toward his fellow slave-gladiators. When offered the company of Varinia as a reward for his performance in training, he shows respect and behaves with dignity, refusing to take advantage of her. Again contrasting with his Roman captors, Spartacus favours empathy, compassion and sincerity. He develops feelings for Varinia which he conveys through the gentle touch of a hand, a touch Varinia finds almost overwhelming as, like all the slave women at the training school, she is treated as a chattel to be used by her master as he sees fit, with no consideration of her feelings or emotions.

Communication and camaraderie are frowned upon or forbidden – fellow trainee Draba explains to Spartacus that offers of friendship are to be rebuffed as gladiators may have to kill one another in the arena. However, this common experience of brutality and a fight for survival creates its own underlying bond. Suffering unites and a spark of humanity and caring can be enough to ignite a sense of fraternity and rebellion, and may result in solidarity founded on loyalty, hope and above all a respect for the humanity and compassion of which they have been deprived. These elements, leading to community, spirit and mutual affection, cannot be matched by Rome’s discipline and offers of self-advancement.



This is embodied in the vain attempts of Crassus to win the respect and affection of Varinia after the defeat of the rebellion. Crassus fails to comprehend the difference between wealth, comfort and position and respect, principle and sincerity, suggesting that lower social orders, through experiencing deprivation, may have learned more about what is important in life than wealthy, conquering Romans.

The film is largely faithful to genuine historical events, though records are incomplete and poetic licence has been taken for dramatic purposes. Spartacus was indeed a Thracian but it is reckoned he may have spent time as a soldier and been sold into slavery after a defeat, especially given his skills in military strategy.



The script by Dalton Trumbo is literate, engaging and human. It incorporates references and details offering historical information on the lives of slaves and gladiators but this is personalised as the script focuses on Spartacus and his fellow slaves. Of course, the points made can be applied to many oppressed groups who find strength and humanity in the face of victimisation and injustice.

It is interesting to note that it is Draba, the African slave gladiator, who initially rebels against Roman callousness and indifference and whose death inspires and motivates the others to rebel, perhaps drawing attention to the situation of African Americans and the civil rights movement in early 1960s America.

The famous and immensely moving scene in which rebel slaves refuse to denounce Spartacus and proclaim “I am Spartacus”, thus sharing responsibility and condemning themselves to death, was undoubtedly a reference to events surrounding the House Un-American Activities Committee. This group investigated so-called communist infiltration of American society in the 1950s and condemned numerous Hollywood scriptwriters, many of whom refused to denounce others and paid the price by being blacklisted. Dalton Trumbo was himself blacklisted and his inclusion on the film’s list of credits is famously considered to have helped break the embargo on targeted writers.
The direction by Stanley Kubrick is intelligent, clear and emotionally engaging, and the music by Alex North complements and enhances both the battle and more intimate scenes.



In terms of performance, Charles Laughton and Laurence Olivier make their characters human and multi-facetted, lending complexity and compassion to what could easily have been two-dimensional antagonistic roles, while Jean Simmons beautifully conveys the resignation, hope and inspiration of her character. While Batiatus plays an essential role in the drama and general proceedings, Peter Ustinov manages to imbue his character with a certain vulnerability and even some comic relief. Kirk Douglas wreaks sincerity and belief in the cause which underpins his film, and this is certainly one of the highlights of his long and illustrious career.


My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie

I can be contacted at stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk .



Friday, 6 March 2020

Reflections on "The Bridge on the River Kwai"






Reflections on “The Bridge on the River Kwai”

Directed by David Lean

Written by Carl Foreman and Michael Wilson,

Based on the book by Pierre Boulle

Starring William Holden, Jack Hawkins and Alec Guinness



A video presentation of this material is available here.


It is early 1943. A group of British POWs under the command of Colonel Nicholson arrives at a Japanese prison camp in Burma, commanded by Colonel Saito. Saito has been set the task of constructing a railway bridge across the river Kwai as part of the railway line intended to link Bangkok to Rangoon, and in part to ensure its completion by mid-May, he insists that all prisoners, including officers, should participate in the construction. Colonel Nicholson points out that the inclusion of officers in work parties contravenes the Geneva Convention, leading to a confrontation between the two commanding officers. Nicholson is beaten and then incarcerated in a corrugated iron container, next to his officers, as the Burmese sun beats down on them until one side or the other concedes.

Such is the opening of this gripping and thought-provoking, yet entertaining, anti-war film.



Saito’s insistence on officer participation and the conflict that entails is based not just on practical considerations, but also on a cultural divide. According to the Japanese viewpoint, these POWs, who were not defeated in battle as they were ordered to surrender by their superiors, are disgraced, have no honour, dignity or personal worth exactly because they surrendered. They are no longer to be considered soldiers but prisoners, to be used by their Japanese captors as they see fit, and this applies to all prisoners, enlisted men and officers. Saito states that the rules of war do not apply as his prisoners have not behaved as soldiers.

Clearly, by adopting and pursuing policies of threat and intimidation, Saito hopes and expects that his prisoners will accede to his authority and offer no resistance. However, Colonel Nicholson considers rules and principles the backbone of civilised society and he will not give in to physical abuse. He refuses to accept the yoke of defeat or bend with the wind of pragmatism. He and his men may have surrendered as ordered, primarily to save lives, but they remain who and what they were and retain the honour, dignity, pride and values they exemplified before their capture. Spiritually, they remain undefeated, and so the scene is set for a stand-off between these two men who represent different cultures and differing values.



Nicholson readily accepts responsibility for the conduct and wellbeing of his men, including the necessity to inspire belief and confidence in the values he and they seek to represent. Indeed, Saito’s actions inadvertently provide the means of maintaining the men’s fighting spirit. Not submitting to pressure provides a sense of purpose and value, and serves to unify the British soldiers against perceived injustice, when Saito sought to appeal to a sense of disappointment and a feeling of dishonour, a further consequence of differing cultures and perceptions.

In the meantime, work continues on the bridge but, under poor Japanese direction and planning, progress is slow and limited. It becomes clear that success will require not just a workforce but experience and knowledge as well, elements which, Nicholson points out, could be provided by the British officers currently held in isolation, if the rules of the Geneva Convention were to be upheld.

Saito concedes but contrives to find a way of maintaining his position and saving face, but it is clear that Nicholson has won the day. It is also clear that respect and co-operation are more likely to bring about success than attempts to coerce one side into submission.



Upon his release and recovery, Nicholson is concerned by the poor discipline and attitude of his men. He recognises the need to restore discipline and good order, and he decides the best way to do that is to give the men a purpose. He sees the construction of the bridge as a tool to maintain the spirit of his men, but also as a means of embarrassing and humiliating their Japanese captors by planning and building a bridge that is superior to anything their captors might produce.

Of course, the irony is that in so doing, the enemy cause is also being advanced. However, Nicholson refuses to see beyond the immediate effect on the morale and discipline of his men. This has the secondary, and unintended, consequence of steadily undermining Saito’s authority as the British officers take decisions and make demands regarding the bridge. Saito is acutely aware of this effect, but to take steps to reduce their input or to rail against their involvement would be counter-productive. Thus, Saito is embarrassed and weakened by the successful progress of his task because he cannot claim control or credit.

Counterbalancing these men of principle, we have Commander Shears, an American officer whose outlook is heavily and amusingly influenced by self-interest and survival. For all he lacks the moral fibre of Nicholson and Saito, Shears is intelligent, resourceful, courageous and determined. He manages to escape, along with two others who die in the process, and, suffering considerable hardship, he eventually makes it to a military hospital where he contemplates his discharge from the army on health grounds.



Shears is a sort of common-sense everyman who just wants to be allowed to lead his life as he wishes. In fact, we discover he is not an officer at all, but has merely impersonated one in order to take advantage of the better conditions offered to officers, a clear example of his resourcefulness. He is somewhat sceptical and is unswayed by matters of principle, and he offers a lighter and refreshing approach to the problems of war. He becomes involved in a plan to destroy the bridge because his military superiors have offered his services, indicating that as long as the war lasts, his life is not really his own. In the great scheme of things, he may be a little man but he is capable of great actions and recognises, however unwillingly, the value of the mission he is about to undertake. He also supplies a certain comic relief at times from the intense drama, while remaining likeable but at risk.

He is recruited by Major Warden, a commando in charge of an operation whose purpose is quite simply to disrupt the enemy war effort as much as possible, in this instance by ensuring the bridge on the river Kwai is destroyed.

Warden is a man of action. Something of an academic in private life, he trains men and leads them on dangerous undercover missions. In keeping with other British officers, he is keen on principle, planning and the application of rules for all eventualities, down to killing comrades rather than allow them to fall into enemy hands. There is no doubting his courage, determination and commitment, but while these are positive qualities, training and unquestioning loyalty can lead to a rather blinkered view of situations.



For Warden and his small group of men, the bridge is a target whose destruction will hamper the war effort of the enemy. As they move on the bridge, crossing hostile terrain and encountering enemy activity, there is ample opportunity to admire the skill, courage and resolution of these men.

We are reminded, however, of the human cost of their actions. Killings are quite brutal and painful, and not without physical and psychological damage to the survivors. At one point, the young and relatively innocent Lieutenant Joyce comes face to face with a young and terrified Japanese soldier. Both hesitate and both are afraid, suggesting, perhaps, that neither wants to be in this situation that has been inflicted on them and is not of their making. The human cost of conflict is brought home in this up-close-and-personal confrontation and quandary which is decided by Warden who is willing to take a life, painful though he finds it, for the sake of the cause he is fighting for.



By now the bridge is all but complete and is due to carry its first train and passengers. Nicholson’s plan has worked. He and his men have, indeed, produced a magnificent feat of engineering and construction, and it has served its purpose of sustaining discipline, order, pride and dignity, to the extent that even the sick are willing to leave hospital to help out and Japanese soldiers have been conscripted into service to complete the bridge on time. Effectively, Nicholson has taken over the running of the camp as he supervises all aspects of construction and issues orders regarding its completion. In the process, he has dealt profound psychological damage to Saito for Nicholson has achieved far more by appealing to the spirit and pride of his men than Saito could have done by force and brutality. Saito has virtually been reduced to a role of camp administrator and, with his ego and pride severely dented, he contemplates suicide.

Both Nicholson and Saito are so self-involved and obsessed by position, honour and principle that both fail to see the bigger picture and the obvious, that the Japanese war effort has been advanced by the building of this excellent bridge, yet the captives are celebrating what has become their victory over their Japanese guards while the captors are commiserating over what is viewed as their dishonour.

Warden, Shears and co see the bridge from a wider perspective and are set to blow it up, but as a result of the lowering of the level of the river, Nicholson spots wires which lead to a detonator and, wishing to protect his pride and joy, he sets out to investigate, putting himself, Saito and the commando unit at risk.



In the resulting fracas, Shears and Joyce are killed while trying to prevent Nicholson’s exposure of the detonator, and Saito and Nicholson are fatally wounded and die, though not before Nicholson comprehends what is happening and realises he has acted against the interests of the Allied forces. He falls on the detonator, destroying the bridge and the train which had started to cross it. Warden is the sole survivor of the group but he is riddled with guilt as, blindly following his training, he fired on his own men to save them from falling into enemy hands.

From a vantage point above all this mayhem and death, the British doctor, who has expressed doubt over Nicholson’s policies in the past, is left stunned and bewildered by what he has just witnessed, repeating “Madness, madness…”. Just as Warden and co saw the bridge from a wider perspective than Nicholson and Saito, so the doctor, from a suitably higher standpoint, sees the whole from an even loftier perspective. All the pain, effort, endurance, courage and determination on the part of both those who built the bridge and those who destroyed it, have led to this point – the destruction of everything and the deaths of just about all involved. Great things can be achieved with time, effort, co-operation and resolution, but they can be wiped out in an instant through petty differences, intolerance and conflict, with no winners or losers in the end, just devastation.



At the beginning and end of the film, birds of prey are seen circling, as if in wait for man’s inevitable self-destruction. The Earth and nature will continue even if man squanders his opportunity to thrive and develop.


The script by Carl Foreman and Michael Wilson cleverly and skilfully combines reflection, action and humour, while the direction and photography make you feel the heat, discomfort and pain endured by the POWs, allowing you to appreciate the natural beauty of the landscape at the same time. David Lean tells the story masterfully, capturing the feelings, motivations, personalities and development of his characters as well as creating tension and excitement in the action sequences.

All the lead actors handle their roles with confidence and flair, and receive superb support from their co-stars. It should be said, however, that third-billed Alec Guinness steals the show, perhaps because of the emotional intensity and the understated and inspirational, if slightly misguided, heroism he brings to the role.

The music by Malcolm Arnold and the use of “Colonel Bogey” only enhance our emotional engagement.



This is a great war, or anti-war film. It allows us to admire the personal qualities of the characters yet it invites us to see the whole from a wider perspective, emphasising the pain, wastefulness and overwhelming destructiveness and futility of war.


My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie

I can be reached at stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk .