The Great Escape (1963) - movie review

Some time ago I wrote a blog post about the classic 1963 movie The Great Escape. Recently I watched the film again, and here are some more random thoughts about it.

One of the aspects of the film which intrigues me is the way in which relations between the camp authorities and the prisoners are portrayed. If not exactly warm or amicable, then there was at least some vague semblance of understanding, as fellow flyers perhaps?

The antipathy between the Luftwaffe officials running the camp and the Gestapo and SS is another significant sub-plot. This is displayed most clearly in the scene where "Big X" is first brought to the camp . One gets the impression that von Luger saw the Gestapo and the SS as enemies as much as he did the Allies. How closely all this was representative of the true historical picture remains open to discussion of course.

To most people The Great Escape is remembered for its action and adventure elements. However, it is often forgotten how much attention is devoted to moral issues and personal relationships. It's not exactly Ingmar Bergman, but the characters are not quite as one-dimensional as the film's reputation might imply.

Virgil Hilts, as played by Steve McQueen, is a rounded creation, and was seemingly a composite of several real-life characters. Truculent and abrasive, mostly towards his adversaries, but also capable of practicality and circumspection. His partnership with Ives is one of the more touching tangents in the movie. A similar scenario develops between Hendley (James Garner) and Blythe (Donald Pleasence). Contrasts in cultures and temperaments, but genuine warmth and affinity.

Mention of Hilts and Hendley leads us on to one of the perennially contentious topics surrounding The Great Escape, namely the notion that the American characters reap a disproportionate slice of the "glory". In my opinion this is a simplistic way of seeing matters. Yes, Steve McQueen participates in the iconic motorcycle sequences. However, at the same time it must be pointed out that the Americans come across as more realistic and measured in their approach to the proposed escape. Hilts, for example, initially questions the sanity of Bartlett's outlandish designs.

In contrast to their colleagues, the British seem to be placing too much emphasis on "duty", and are too sure of themselves, failing to take account of some sentiment and variables. There is a similar, if more acute, dynamic in The Bridge On The River Kwai, namely the tension between William Holden and his British colleagues.

As the character comes across in the film, Big X (as played by Richard Attenborough) is easy to admire and respect. He is the dynamic driving force and leader which all complex and fraught enterprises need. In Attenborough's portrayal he is single-minded, but watching the film unfold I wonder whether some of his subordinates are excessively deferential and receptive to his authority. Even Ramsey, who is nominally Big X's superior in the camp pecking order, seems powerless to intervene.

I know that it is churlish to nit-pick about the plausibility of aspects of the plot, but I'm going to do it anyway. The depiction of the planning stages for the escape makes one wonder how the Germans would not have uncovered or stumbled upon the preparations earlier than they did (they eventually found one of the tunnels). In all honesty, this small caveat does not detract from the quality of the film or its value as entertainment. After all this is a movie, not a documentary. Compromises such as this, and the compressing of timescales, were made to render the picture palatable and digestible for cinema-goers. The apparent ease with which Werner was able to procure a suitable camera for the prisoners is an example of this.

No minor gripes can obscure our admiration for the resourcefulness and courage required to get the escape bid organized in the first place, and co-ordinate the elaborate precautions. In spite of the occasional dissenting voice, there is a unity of purpose. The Germans scored an own goal by placing many officers together, with their obligations, and their wide range of technical expertise and personal attributes.

There are some "technical" matters which contribute to the flavour of The Great Escape. The tunneling scenes are beautifully shot, the set designs amply conveying the claustrophobia, the danger and the arduous nature of the work. The lighting in the tunnels is also beautifully executed and designed.

The sunlight in many of the "exterior" scenes has an almost baleful quality to it. This might have something to do with the film stock used, I'm not sure, and might therefore have been unintentional. Either way, it adds in a curious way to the atmosphere.

One of the more affecting relationships in the movie is that between Hendley and Werner, the camp guard. Werner's timid, vulnerable countenance belies a few stereotypes. These scenes almost leave one with a twinge of ambiguity, as the guard is manipulated and used by Hendley.

A criticism which I think is valid is that of the Gestapo and SS characters in the film. Both in their appearance and in their dialogue they feel like caricatures, and it is one of the few areas where a slight lack of finesse is discernible. Was it a rather clumsy attempt to introduce a clear contrast with the more moderate Luftwaffe personnel?

The pace and drama move up a notch with the "4th of July" festivities and the death of Ives. Elation and jollity turning to despair, but the grim resolve remained.

Does The Great Escape go on too long?  For the average 21st-century attention span maybe it does, but not to me. For a full appreciation of the intricacies and the twists, an above-average running time was imperative, and space is permitted for the various sub-texts to breathe.

Of the other acting performances, James Garner is assuredly, solidly impressive.  I have always liked him as an actor. Despite the often devious and underhand means which he employs, Hendley is a sympathetic character - compassionate, level-headed and strong, and Garner's persona is a major reason for this.

James Coburn's attempt at an Australian accent has attracted much comment down the years, but in his hands Sedgwick emerges as one of the most interesting figures in the group.  Despite his quirks, he displays more savvy than most in the aftermath of the escape.

The excitement and tension of the "post-escape" sequences is exacerbated by the contrast between the wide-open spaces of the German countryside and the confines of the camp. Life beyond the wire presented many perils, though. The escapees were running grievous risks, in wearing civilian clothing and carrying false identification papers, as is amply demonstrated in those sequences.

The Great Escape is not unremittingly gloomy, but neither is there much in the way of levity. The fate of those prisoners executed near the end reminds us that the realities could be very far removed from Boys' Own stuff, and also what this struggle was really about.

A thread which runs through the movie is that of Hilts' baseball glove and ball. It is unclear whether any special meaning was implied through this, but I suppose that the "thwack" of the ball hitting the wall of the cooler cell could be interpreted as a metaphor for defiance of the enemy, and/or a determination to carry on with established traditions. Also, a gesture of individualism, both directed at the enemy and against the world at large?

Grand Prix - the movie

When it comes to motion pictures about the sport of motor racing, the record of success would have to be described as mixed at best.  Indeed, I have seen and heard a few observers venture the opinion that some of the worst creations ever committed to celluloid have been motorsport-related.  However, a few efforts shine like a beacon amongst the general mediocrity, and remain vaguely definitive.  One of these is the 1966 movie Grand Prix, directed by John Frankenheimer.

It was an opportune time to be conceiving a film about Grand Prix racing.  In 1966, the new 3-litre engine formula was instituted, and a new breed of more meaty and muscular machines entered the arena.  These cars looked and sounded more dramatic and imposing than their 1.5 litre predecessors.  The elegant European aesthetic of the mid-1960s was also a strong ingredient in the movie's appeal.

As well as taking advantage of circumstance, the producers carried off a master-stroke by enlisting the co-operation of the Formula 1 circus, or at least most of it.  By filming at the actual venues during the race meetings, they imbued the picture with an authenticity with most other examples of this sub-genre have manifestly lacked.

As for the plot, well if not totally implausible, then it errs decisively towards the "Hollywood".  Not that most of the events depicted have not occurred in real life, but not condensed into just a few months, and revolving around a few select people! To some extent, any misgivings concerning about the story-line are ameliorated by the movie's excellence in other departments....

One of the areas in which Grand Prix excels is in its cinematography, the race action sequences being highly accomplished and advanced for their time.  Indeed, these portions of the film even stand up to 21st century scrutiny. In a wider sense, the film is visually luxurious and sumptuous, trouble seemingly being taken to focus on landmarks and the opulent.

Of the actors involved, I find James Garner's performance as Pete Aron to be the most convincing and impressive.  Garner capably constructs Aron as something of an outsider, a strong and silent type.  Hardened and quite cynical, but at the same time a humane and sensible figure.  Garner's overall plausibility and impact in the role may be related to his apparent affinity for racing.

The other performance which I find both credible and accomplished is that of Jessica Walter as Pat Stoddard.  She comes across as what might have been the public's perception of the typical racing driver's wife of the time, but the character is believable, and as an added bonus Ms Walter is very easy on the eye!

Yves Montand is assured as Jean-Pierre Sarti, evoking the gravitas but increasing weariness of a Fangio-esque elder statesman. It has to be said that some of the other actors did not work quite as well in their roles, whatever those with rose-tinted glasses may say.  The poor acting in places is an irritant and a blemish, even if it is unlikely to perturb unduly the people who will view the picture.  Some of the acting by the racing drivers is cringe-inducing, but they can be excused!

Having said that the elegance and stylishness of 1960s Europe is an enticing backdrop to Grand Prix, it also sometimes strikes me that 1960s motor racing was quite conservative, "square" even, when compared to other arenas of cultural endeavour of the time.  The "dolce vita" ambience therefore could be viewed as a touch dated, whatever its seductiveness.

The film does convey the sense of community and togetherness which, by all accounts, prevailed in those days in the racing scene, and which is so often cited as one of the main ways in which the sport has altered in the ensuing decades.  At the same time, the increasing professionalism and commercial pressures are not totally overlooked.  It was not always about camararderie and chivalry...

As is obligatory in racing films, there is much philosophising about the dangers and risks, although in fairness this is not done to excessive lengths or in a sensationalistic way.  The dialogue on this subject, and related matters,  is comparatively mature and understated, rarely descending into mawkishness.  For example, the scene outside the pub after the British Grand Prix, involving Sarti and Louise Frederickson, is very well judged.

One criticism which I would level against the script is that there is occasional superfluous "fluff", mostly in the downtime when the cars are not on track.  Although it can be contended that these passages would appeal to the "general" audience, discarding them would also have made the film shorter in length.  Perhaps they should have made an "alternative" edited version, cutting out the more frivolous parts, for the benefit of petrolheads?

The movie's makers deviated from the real 1966 calendar by having the Italian Grand Prix at Monza as the final race of the season, and also by staging the race on the old banked circuit. For dramatic effect, these decisions were perfectly understandable. The Monza sequences are beautifully constructed, with the circuit  presented as the inspiring "cathedral" of motorsport.  Tension is created, and many of the strands and sub-plots coalesce.

Granted, the four-man championship showdown may stretch credulity for some observers, but the nature of the race itself was not too dissimilar to many Grands Prix which took place at Monza during that period! The final scene of the entire movie is one of its most masterly and evocative, with James Garner strolling down the pit straight at Monza, in front of deserted grandstands.  Spine-tingling stuff....

Despite the reservations, Grand Prix remains a great looking and sounding film, and to a large degree effectively captures the organic and analog F1 of the mid-1960s.  It remains amongst the most credible mainstream movies made about auto-racing, and the much-hyped and anticipated efforts of more recent times have almost without exception failed to hold a candle to it. It is still a benchmark of sorts. The conditions under which Frankenheimer's work was made will in all probability never be replicated, and this  militates against something matching it.  Technology and finances are no substitute for realism, passion, ingenuity, and that intangible "magic"....

The Great Escape

I recently viewed The Great Escape yet again. Rather than just write a dry "review" for this blog, I decided to examine a few of the neglected aspects of the film, as well as address a few myths, and generally make a few random observations.

One of the interesting subtexts in The Great Escape is the rapport which develops between individual British and American captives, in spite of the glaring clash of cultures.  The major instances of this are the tie-ups involving Hilts (Steve McQueen) and Ives, and then Hendley (James Garner) and Blythe.

The Hendley-Blythe collaboration was fascinating for several reasons. They seemed an unlikely duo, the streetwise, taciturn American and the rather eccentric Englishman, but the affection was genuine. Not really a case of opposites attracting, but more the recognition of essentially human qualities. Hendley sensed the vulnerability of Blythe, whose eyesight was deteriorating.

By agreeing to act as Blythe's escort during and after the escape, Hendley almost certainly saw his own chances of eventual freedom diminish. This brings us on to a perenially contentious subject, namely the role of the American characters in the movie. The screenwriters did push the prominence of the Americans in their adaptation of the story, but this does not tell us the whole story.

A frequent charge is that the Americans were portrayed as the most heroic and smart of the Allied POWs. There is some foundation to this, but equally I would assert that they were far from one-dimensional characters.  Hendley in particular shows much compassion, humanity and shrewdness in his dealings with others. This is an interesting counterpoint to his role as "the scrounger", during which he sometimes had to resort to less wholesome methods. However, on balance we can allow that on this occasion the ends justified the means!

It is tempting to draw the conclusion that Steve McQueen was the "action hero", and that the British and Commonwealth officers were the brains of the operation. That is an over-simplification. At times he showed genuine clarity of thought, while the British appeared to become mired in detail and bureaucracy.

How do we interpret the scene during which the US officers hold a ceremony to celebrate the Fourth of July?  One could choose to see it as a subtle dig at British imperialism, but I prefer to view the sequence as signifying the ability of the prisoners to acknowledge the past, but at the same time to recognise that they were now united in facing a common foe.

In assessing the contribution of the McQueen and Garner characters, it should also be recalled that the only escapees who were ultimately successful were non-American, and Hilts and Hendley, although surviving, were returned to captivity in the camp.

It is also probably true to say that the Americans expressed the most misgivings and cynicism about the whole enterprise, whereas the others appeared to be in thrall to Bartlett in particular. Towards the close of the film, the dissent in the ranks makes itself felt more, as the human cost begins to sink in, and much of the bravado and idealism dissolves.

When assessing The Great Escape, Bartlett (Big X) comes across as one of the less appealing characters, and one who I suspect divides opinion. The more I watch the film, the more I see him as vain and manipulative, even narcissistic. He was capable of persuading his men to do things which they might normally deem to be inadvisable.  At the same time, I can appreciate that he was the catalyst and the motivator,  and the one who made things happen.

Group Captain Ramsey (James Donald) initially sought to advise caution, and to act as a voice of reason and moderation, and to curb some of Big X's excesses. However, even his authority seemed to be over-ridden by the forceful personality of Bartlett. A more ideal formula may have been the zeal and vigour of the escape group leadership, tempered by cooler heads and the more detached approach of the likes of Ramsey.

It also seems to me that the MacDonald character (played by Gordon Jackson) is one of the weak links, although nominally seen as important. He displays sychophancy towards Bartlett at times, but Bartlett seems to have less than total confidence in him. Was excessive loyalty shown to some of the operatives, when their roles could have been more effectively performed by men from outside the "clique"?

One of the characters who shows some individuality and ploughs his own furrow is Sedgwick, the Australian. Mocked by his fellow prisoners for insisting on taking a suitcase with him on the escape, and constantly harrassed over deadlines, he displayed greater savvy and assurance than the others once it was every man for himself. As something of a loner and individualist myself, I could emphathise with Sedgwick's approach!

A part of the film which increasingly grates with me is the characterisation of the Gestapo men in the movie. They feel unduly "cartoonish", as if they were intended to be caricatures, derived straight from War Comics Central Casting. This, however, is quite a minor criticism in the overall scheme of things.

Over the years, much has been made about the supposed "rapport" between the Luftwaffe men staffing the camp and the Allied POWs. There may have been some level of understanding and common ground as "flyers", but it may have been over-emphasised. There was certainly a battle of wills, and if anything the Germans may have shown too much trust and leniency at the outset, and under-estimated the determination and resolve of the prisoners. The commandant and guards found it difficult to deal with the insubordination, defiance and sarcasm which they encountered.  Ironically, in seeking to distance themselves from, and ignore the advice of, the Gestapo and the SS, the camp authorities partly contributed to their own downfall. They allowed Bartlett to integrate with the others, rather than housing him separately.

One of the strengths of The Great Escape is its depth, certainly in comparison to most other mainstream war films. No doubt before long I will be writing a follow-up to this article, with more observations!

Reflections on Steve McQueen's "Le Mans"

In recent months, my motorsport interest has centred on sportscar racing as much as Formula One, and particularly the period 1968-1972. This era took in the tail end of the Ford GT40's shelf-life, the struggles between Porsche and Ferrari, and the fitful exploits of Alfa Romeo and Matra.

Perhaps the most enduring fictional document of this "golden age" of sportscar racing is Steve McQueen's 1971 movie, "Le Mans", much of which was filmed at, or around the time of the 1970 edition of the legendary endurance classic. I recently watched this film in its entirety, and thought it worthwhile to post some of my thoughts and observations here.

The plot of the film centres largely on McQueen's character, Gulf Porsche's star driver Michael Delaney, and his attempts to win at Le Mans. Delaney had been involved in an accident in the previous year's race, which had cost the life of Ferrari's Piero Belgetti. The return to Le Mans of Belgetti's widow, Lisa, forms a central strand of the narrative.

McQueen delivers a restrained performance, and simply allows his own charisma and persona to do much of the work. Being a racer himself, McQueen would have had some insight into the mindset of the archetypal driver. The character of Delaney possesses tunnel-vision and drive, and is quite mono-syllabic! Throughout the movie he comes across as awkward and ill-at-ease outside the racing car, and in social situations generally. An example of this is the stilted small talk which occurs when he is with Lisa Belgetti.

In some respects, Delaney reminds me of the Pete Aron (James Garner) character in "Grand Prix-The Movie". An outsider, dispassionate and cynical, particularly in dealings with the media. It is interesting to note that, even in a mainstream film, the producers resisted the temptation to make the central character a "comic book" racing driver type.

Inevitably, some compromises were made with realism, but these were largely excusable. The manner in which several cars caught fire after accidents was dubious, as was the constant stream of information conveyed by the circuit PA system. The latter, however, assisted with the narrative, and was not totally implausible.

Turning to the mood and tone of the film, at times I detected an almost "documentary" feel, with some scenes almost redolent of "cinema verite". At very few stages does "Le Mans" descend into cliche, like most other racing movies. It seems to have been made by enthusiasts for enthusiasts. The human interest elements are not permitted to totally obscure the "anoraky" technical aspects.

The supporting characters were also constructed with some thought. Stahler, the Ferrari team leader, belying outdated national stereotypes, comes across as more human, warm and likeable than Delaney.

David Townsend, the Porsche team manager, appears to be a composite of various real-life motorsport personnel of that era. He is a combination of British stiff-upper-lip and more modern ruthlessness.

One of the more under-rated parts of the film is the night-time sequence, particularly where the lonely and pensive Lisa wanders through the jolly crowds, emphasising the contrast between her emotions and the more straightforward pleasures of the racefans.

After his accident, Delaney is recalled to take over Ritter's car, but there is no corny fairy-tale ending, as he does not win the race, merely helping team-mate Larry Wilson to do so in the sister car. Also, despite hints of an intimate bond, McQueen does not really "get the girl".  None of this left me with a sense of anti-climax, as it was in keeping with the realism of much of the film overall.

Unfortunately, after the cold reality of the race's outcome, the final scene is something of a schmaltz-fest, with lingering slow-motion, soft-focus glances exchanged between Lisa and Delaney, and some distinctly cheesy music! However, this is a small criticism of a technically well-made movie, which has aged much better than the majority of other racing films.