Yup.
This one is another checking in on the list of AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition).
Film 58
58. "The Bridge On The River Kwai" (AFI Rank #36)
Confession time again. As you may recall, this is part of a bloc of 5 films I hadn't seen before. I'm now through that bloc for viewing (a little behind in writing these up). Given just bits of information, and well...movie posters...to go from, I cannot believe that this group had such a similar streak of dead-eyed cynicism and folly. Every film in this 5 questions authority, questions our need for order, and makes us think.
Unlike "Nashville," I'm going to discuss the big finish of this film, because it is, as Julie told me, crushing. I think my particular perspective on that is somewhat more nuanced, and I want to share it with you. Later.
This film won the Oscar for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Screenplay, Best Cinematography, Best Editing and Best Score in 1957. It's a dynamo of a film.
Opening with a shot of a vulture flying over the jungles of Burma, David Lean, the director of this film, and director of so many brilliant films, sets the tone immediately. This isn't going to be a lightly modeled war epic. This is...different. And it is. Set in a Japanese POW camp, where a legion of British soldiers has been brought for forced labor, this is not a battlefield epic about war. This is about the darker, more sinister side of war, the side where men torment each other rather than just try to slaughter each other. There is great honor accorded those who die for their country, or who kill for their country; but every war has places like the one depicted in this film, where humans are treated inhumanly because...well...because of the uniform they wear. This film dares to take us into that (albeit sanitized - do some research on the real events that inspired this story) shithole.
The basic plot is this: a bridge needs to be built across the River Kwai in Burma, so that the Japanese may move materials/men by railroad. Colonel Saito (Sessue Hayakawa) , a Japanese officer charged with the task, heads up a prison camp where he has been assigned a group of British soldiers to act as slave labor to get the job done. That group is commanded by Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guinness), a British dandy who foolishly believes, in his desperately hopeless situation, that he is going to dictate the rules. He tells Saito that, according the the Geneva Conventions, captured officers cannot do manual labor. Saito, infuriated with this insolence, begins a battle of wills with Nicholson, locking him (and all the other officers - in their own) in "The Oven," a small box exposed to the oppressive elements of the jungle (mainly heat). Nicholson, as fiercely determined as Saito, does not appear to break under the torture, and the British soldiers, without any real leadership, except that imposed by threat of violence, are shown to be a poor labor force, incapable of succeeding in the task. Faced with the very real probability of not being able to supply the bridge in time, Saito finally yields to Nicholson, and allows the Geneva Conventions to dictate the camp. The two form an odd alliance, dependent on each other for their own survival. The Brits, with superior engineering training, note that the bridge is being built in an impossible location, and determine to make it proper. Nicholson, intrigued by the idea of having a landmark that will function for centuries, becomes a dervish, commanding his troops to build a bridge for their captors, one that the Brits will be proud of when they sit in their homes when the war is over. The Brits, led by their own officers, build a grand bridge, and deliver it on time. Saito, basically humiliated by the prisoners, knows that his honorable life is over, and prepares himself for seppuku. The Brits win the day. Their pluck and determination defeats the Japanese.
Tangent to all this action, there is an American, whose identity is given in the film as Commander Shears (William Holden), who escapes the prison in the early portion of the film. While in the hospital, he is approached by the Brits, and offered the task of helping to lead a commando squad back to the prison camp, with the express purpose of destroying the bridge that other Brits are working so hard to construct. Of course, Shears refuses the assignment, until it is learned that Shears is not really Shears at all, and that he swapped uniforms with an officer when his boat was sunk in an attempt to receive preferred treatment in a POW camp. The Brits know this and essentially blackmail Shears into the task.
Long story longer: the commandos succeed, all the main characters are killed, and the bridge is destroyed. A British officer (and the guy in charge of the camp's hospital) observes all of this, and comments, "Madness! Madness...madness!" We then see two vultures soaring above the jungles.
The end.
Whew.
That's a lot of plot I normally don't tell. The reason why, however, is because my main goal with this blogpost is to comment on the ending, and you need to know all that for my commentary to make sense.
Like most great film, the plot is immaterial to the theme. The theme, as is so often exploited in tragedy, is human folly. And I'm calling this film a tragedy. Tell me you can't see this being written by William Shakespeare, or see Shakespearean influence in it. It has a tragic hero (Nicholson), with a tragic flaw (pride), whose actions bring about his demise. What we are witness to in this film is the almost unimaginable consequence of hubris. Commentary on war, on honor, on pragmatism, on shame, guilt, and ultimately...insanity...are what this story is really about.
Acting in this film is decidedly top notch and..."of its time." There is a time capsule quality to the performances, as great as they are, that makes us wish more chances were being taken with some of it. As with "Spartacus," this film, with its sophisticated (read: cynical) themes, might have been better made in the 70s, but it likely wouldn't have been, as Hollywood was moving away from spectacle. And maybe, just maybe, the films of the 70s were so fucking good because of trailblazers like this film. Of particular interest to me, in terms of subtle moments that look so freaking hard to accomplish, was Guinness' emergence from "The Oven." You absolutely believe that's what it would look like as a man, beaten, uses all his will to remain physically upright, when his body can't. We see a similar event in Lean's "Lawrence Of Arabia." William Holden appears in a LOT of films in the Top 100, and it's no accident. That guy just flat out knew how to embody a character. This film is no exception. Also tremendous was Hayakawa's Saito. Nominated for an Oscar for his work, he makes a tapestry out of what could have been a very single faceted character. Amazingly, he never read the rest of the script, trimming his script down to only the pages on which he appeared, and learned his role in a non-native tongue. He's really heartbreaking in this, and his descent into submission, is a huge plot device, one that we need, because the other descent is so well masked.
Which brings me to the finale. At the last moment, Nicholson, who has been questioned once during the film for doing the Japanese's bidding, finally realizes that he, himself was entirely to blame for the folly of building this bridge. He has a moment where he realizes that his proper duty was to prevent it, even at the cost of his own life, and that he allowed Saito to break his sanity, and get him to do exactly what he was not supposed to do. In fact, he allowed this monumental hubris to do a better job than Saito was expecting. That, to me, is crushing. He speaks the horrific..."What have I done?"
Yes, it sucks that the bridge got blown up, and that so much human suffering was thrown into something that never actually did anything. To me, though, the greater tragedy expressed by that moment is the breaking of will. We see Saito's slide as the film goes on. Nicholson's, however, remains hidden until that moment. And, if you are like me, that's crushing.
Ultimately, less subtle, and certainly far less personal, the physical bridge is a metaphor for the folly of war. So much pain, so much suffering is thrown into it...and it all ends in a moment, and all of that...is timber floating down the river.
One other thing...that we never actually learn Shears' real name...that's genius. Pure genius.
David Lean created a masterpiece with this film. I think, more than anything else, that when we find ourselves hoping that the "good guys" don't accomplish their mission of blowing up the bridge, that we stop and take stock of what we believe. That's the work of great art. It asks us to explore those depths of our souls for answers to questions that usually can't be answered. This film, despite the appearance of a tidy little ending, just asks too many questions. It makes us think...
"Madness! Madness...madness!"
Amazing. I look forward to watching this one again later in life. For now, I've learned more about our rich culture of American Cinema, and its vital history. This is a historic film.
Here's Ebert's essay on the film from his "Great Movies" series.
I'm down to 10 films on this list that I've never seen before. I gotta confess, I'm really glad I decided to do this. I'd have never invested 3 hours in this, otherwise. Other people read. I absorb film. That's my preferred medium for story hearing.
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