FILMS

Nearly as soon as it erupted, the Second World War appeared on the big screen. Studios released a burst of patriotic pictures, and some managed to make a film a week, motivating and entertaining their respective countrymen. Among hundreds of flag-waving morale boosters were Victory in the West (Germany, 1941), Eagle Squadron (U.S., 1942), and We Dive at Dawn (UK, 1943). Story lines varied, but the overriding theme was predominantly “good versus evil.”⁵

After the war, moviemaking struggled. Companies in Asia and Europe suffered from want of equipment and money. Usually the only lighting and backdrops available were daylight and ruined landscapes. Thus productions from 1945 to 1948 were commonly called “Rubble Films.” The United States also bade farewell to its golden age of the silver screen. From 1945 onward, ticket sales plummeted, largely due to the advent of television. For people who still went to the movies, their preferences spoke volumes. After years of self-sacrifice, Americans developed a taste for Westerns, with stories of rugged individualism and the great wide open plains.⁶

World War II movies slowly regained popularity in the 1960s, but almost exclusively within victorious countries. Most productions were action flicks, with pyrotechnics and heroics galore, typified by The Longest Day (U.S./UK, 1962), The Dirty Dozen (U.S., 1967), and Kelly's Heroes (U.S., 1970).

Adventure turned to anguish during the extenuated struggles of Vietnam, Afghanistan, and the nuclear arms race. Films began to characterize warfare as paradox, a fight between duty and disillusionment, as shown in Hope and Glory (UK, 1987), Prisoners of the Sun (Australia, 1991), and The Thin Red Line (U.S., 1998).

Overall, the fight between the Axis and the Allies has seen literally thousands of renditions, many of which have achieved critical and commercial success. To date, nine films about the war have captured the Oscar for best motion picture. Following are the best of the ages (available to Western audiences), based on quality of writing, directing, acting, cinematography, and historical accuracy.⁷

1. DAS BOOT (1981)

A war reporter in the Third Reich, Lothar-Günther Buchheim survived numerous U-boat missions. Decades later he eventually brought himself to write a distressing, honest depiction of U-boat service and the German war experience as a whole. Deeply moved by Buchheim’s 1973 novel, director Wolfgang Peterson translated the print into pictures. The result was one of the most raw, cognizant, and genuine war films of all time.⁸

The story follows the exploits of U-96, a fictional amalgam subjected to factual miseries, patrolling the hostile waters of the North Atlantic and Mediterranean. In shots of tight and dismal quarters, moldy food, and crowded and unwashed men, one can almost feel the weight of the sea upon the hull. The sub itself is eerily real, made for the movie by a German company that actually produced U-boats during the war.⁹

Scenes of engagement are especially astute: the cold sequence of a torpedo launch, the echoing groan of a sinking ship, the sight of drowning survivors. In depicting mortality of German crews, the film is brutally truthful. Of the thirty-eight thousand officers and men who served on U-boats during the war, fewer than eight thousand survived.

After the collapse of the Third Reich, German cinema wallowed for decades in bewilderment. Films either treated the war as some out-of-body nightmare or avoided the subject altogether. Das Boot reestablished the reality that everyday Germans were active participants, serving, fighting, and suffering horribly with their chosen vessel of war.¹⁰

Due to mounting production costs, the project was nearly offered to a pair of American studios, both of which intended on making Das Boot into an action-adventure picture, starring either Paul Newman or Robert Redford.

2. SCHINDLER’S LIST (1993)

Critics often hesitate to administer praise upon a Spielberg film, as the director has a penchant for tugging heartstrings and granting tidy endings. The conclusion of Schindler's List does little to break the filmmaker's habit, exhibiting a row of Schindlerjuden honoring the Jerusalem grave of their paradoxical savior.¹¹

Throughout, Spielberg does much to cleanse the factual Oskar Schindler (played by Liam Neeson), the Catholic businessman who spared more than twelve hundred Jews by employing them in his own factories. Instead of a changed man, the historical Schindler remained adulterous, alcoholic, and opportunistic for the rest of his days, even selling the gold ring he received from grateful survivors. Schindler's departing speech in the film, where he lamented his failure to save more people, is a fabrication.¹²

In spite of presenting a simplified Schindler (dispensed with greater accuracy in Thomas Keneally's historical novel), Spielberg unleashes the finest and most legitimate work of his career. Shot in high-contrast black and white, strengthening shadows while bleeding faces pale, the film does nothing to hide or glamorize issues of violence. Most directors present the Holocaust as an event of untouchable extremes, of automatic behavior from convenient stereotypes. Spielberg humanizes all involved, showing persecutors and the persecuted as equally capable of fear, cowardice, strength, guilt, and gratitude. The result is history made utterly tangible.

The governments of Egypt, Indonesia, Jordan, Lebanon, and Malaysia banned Schindler's List for its allegedly pro-Jewish stance. Brigham Young University censored the movie for its sexual content.¹³

3. THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (1946)

Strangers during the war, three discharged veterans meet while returning to their quiet Midwest hometown. As reinstated civilians, they encounter a public largely indifferent to their harrowing service oversees. In turn, the men find solace in each other.

To a postwar European or Asian audience, the scenario would appear ideal, coming home to a family, a home, a city physically untouched by combat. Yet the film must be taken in context. Made less than a year after the fighting ceased, the work addresses issues too unpleasant for popular consumption but all too real for many American veterans: unemployment, alienation, mental trauma, alcoholism, and adultery. Indeed, there were merely a half-dozen American films about veterans before Best Years and more than three hundred after.¹⁴

The outstanding performance belongs to Harold Russell, playing the part of Homer, a sailor who lost his hands in battle. Having no acting experience other than the military training film in which he was discovered, Russell brilliantly underplays the role, revealing the doubt, sadness, and perseverance of a wounded man rummaging through a broken life, debating whether there is anything to salvage. His presence is all the more moving in that Russell was a veteran and a double amputee.

Adding significantly are the female characters. While most World War II films have little or no female presence (save for the obligatory love interest), the wives and daughters in Best Years are an exception. On the surface they appear tucked away, brought out for brief moments of reactionary dialogue. Under closer inspection, they are the strongest characters, supporting, challenging, and defining their severely tested relationships, exemplified by Homer's reticent fiancée Wilma (Cathy O'Donnell), who looks upon his handless arms and treats them not as deformations but as proof of fragile beauty and unbreakable courage.

Harold Russell won two Oscars for his performance—one for best supporting actor and an honorary award for inspiring his fellow veterans—yet he never acted in a major motion picture again.

4. PATTON (1970)

A screen biography of the controversial and flamboyant American general had been in the works since 1951. Yet producer Frank McCarthy failed to garner support from either the Defense Department or the Patton family, as both groups anticipated a wholly negative treatment of the bellicose commander.¹⁵

Not until the mid-1960s did McCarthy receive tacit approval, and production was on. Unfortunately, so was the Vietnam conflict and a growing public aversion to all things military.

Armed with a gifted writing team (including Francis Ford Coppola), a healthy budget, and a top-flight cast and crew, plus three thousand extras from the Spanish army equipped with World War II surplus tanks and artillery, McCarthy achieved the near impossible. Patton opened in 1970 to rave reviews and mass approval. Hawkish viewers (including President Richard Nixon) praised its depiction of courage and patriotism in trying times. Doves proclaimed the film an excellent portrayal of military hubris.¹⁶

There are discrepancies and omissions. Spanning Patton's service from North Africa in February 1943 to France in October 1945, the work makes no mention of his blatant anti-Semitic rants, the slapping of a second soldier, or an affair with his niece by marriage. And the British contribution to victory in Africa is nearly ignored. Concerning artistic expression, the real Patton was a much smaller man than Scott, sporting a high-pitched voice that screeched even higher in his many moments of agitation. Far less excusable was the treatment of animals on the set, where several were poisoned or shot for visual effect.¹⁷

Frank McCarthy, creator and producer of Patton, had served in World War II as the secretary of U.S. chief of staff Gen. George C. Marshall.

5. A BRIDGE TOO FAR (1977)

Based on Cornelius Ryan's informative though heavily anecdotal book of the same name, A Bridge Too Far portrays OPERATION MARKET-GARDEN, the September 1944 Allied attempt to capture vital bridges deep inside Nazi-occupied Holland.

Much like the failed attack, the film is plagued from the beginning. Martial music, needless subplots, and an excessively famous cast are inappropriate and distracting. Poor continuity and uninspired acting further erode the production.

Nonetheless, Bridge is largely accurate and an invaluable lesson in modern warfare, aptly demonstrating the monumental complexity of combat. Hastily assembled, the actual Market-Garden operation lacked adequate intelligence, cohesion, and leadership. Inclement weather, obstructed roads, insufficient weaponry, and broken communications added to the debacle, making all the courage in the world count for little. This tragic picture becomes considerably clearer when the film is viewed with a battle map in hand.

Despite the movie's impressive portrayal and blockbuster lineup, Bridge fared poorly at the box office. Evidently a detailed account of a military catastrophe held minimal appeal for a post-Vietnam audience.

Actor Dirk Bogarde, who played Lt. Gen. Frederick Browning, knew the story of Market-Garden well. He had participated in the actual battle as a member of British intelligence.

6. TORA! TORA! TORA! (1970)

Taking objectivity to an extreme, the quasi-documentary of the Pearl Harbor attack ranks as one of the most balanced and accurate screenplays of the genre. Originally intended to be two films (one American, one Japanese), escalating costs forced a hybrid production, resulting in a rare case of equal time for both sides of the story.¹⁸

In step-by-step fashion, the mechanics of the raid come into view, with the accompanying U.S. intelligence failures to detect its approach. Shown in great detail is the critical breakdown of communications, where links between governments and their armed forces (and even within each branch of service) played a dominant role in the outcome of events.

Unquestionably, the picture's limited scope has cost and gain. Focusing purely on Pearl Harbor, there is no reference to simultaneous attacks upon Malaya, the Philippines, Guam, and elsewhere. Nor is there mention of Japan's aging war with China. Yet by concentrating on Pearl Harbor, the dramatization provides a concise snapshot of a tragic moment in time.

Perhaps of equal value is the film's indication of Japanese-American relations in 1970. The concerted effort required to make the film, and its message of courage under fire, demonstrate how once-mortal enemies can eventually achieve mutual respect.¹⁹

Commercially successful in Japan, the picture fared poorly in the United States, so 20th Century Fox recouped losses by selling impressively staged attack scenes to other studios. Thus footage of Tora! Tora! Tora! appears in Midway (1976) andMacArthur (1977).

7. SAVING PRIVATE RYAN (1998)

The story: News reaches the U.S. high command that three of four brothers in uniform have perished in quick succession. To rescue the sole-surviving sibling, a squad fresh from the slaughter of D-day enters the French interior. On the way, the team faces its own battles and losses, only to find Pvt. James Ryan (Matt Damon) and a few other soldiers guarding a key river viaduct in enemy territory, setting up a climactic fight against all odds to spare brother and bridge.

The reality: It took weeks rather than hours for casualty manifests to reach headquarters. The June 1944 Normandy countryside contained far more hedgerows and hostile Wehrmacht than was depicted. U.S. Army captains tended to be much younger than John Miller (Tom Hanks) and much less willing to tolerate insubordination, engage overwhelming forces, or repetitiously divert from their assignment.²⁰

As frail as the story line may be, the manner in which it is presented rivals all other war films ever made. Contrary to the teachings of traditional filmmaking, battles are chaotic, mangling affairs of ultraviolence. Per Spielberg’s design, engagements become cauldrons of rolling smoke, stinging shells, and tearing flesh. Cinematographer Janusz Kaminski's use of handheld cameras, close-ups, and fast-action shutter speeds incorporate the viewer into the fold. The twenty-minute rendition of Omaha Beach alone may be the most realistic vision of combat ever re-created.²¹

Saving Private Ryan was inspired in part by the story of the Sullivan brothers. Serving in the Pacific theater on the light cruiser USS Juneau, all five Iowa brothers perished when enemy torpedoes sank their ship near Guadalcanal on November 13, 1942.

8. KANAL (1956)

The second installment of Andrzej Wajda’s war trilogy (A Generation Ashes and Diamonds) follows a dwindling platoon of Polish resistance fighters in the final days of the 1944 Warsaw uprising. Surrounded, outgunned, and outmanned, the unit's ragged mix of soldiers and civilians enter the sewers (kanaly) in hopes of escape.

An otherwise moving tale suffers from an awkward musical score, tepid special effects, and poor sound quality. Actors blatantly unfamiliar with their weapons (such as a bazooka crew who stand behind their gun while firing) cause further reduction of authenticity.

Yet the director refuses to let his story falter into cliché. The platoon does not band together in unified triumph (per American war films of the 1940s), nor is there a celebration of heroic sacrifice (per Soviet Bloc war films of the 1950s). Instead, the dark and claustrophobic stench of the sewers unmasks everyone, revealing the heights and depths of human behavior under inhuman conditions and the ruinous fate of a people trapped between two military giants.²²

Perhaps the strongest scene ever shot in Wajda's long and celebrated career comes in the final moments of Kanal, when the bright and beautiful Daisy (Teresa Izewska) and her wounded love, Jasek (Tadeusz Janczar), reach the end of a tunnel. They are inches away from freedom only to find their exit blocked by a metal grate. A master of metaphor, Wajda manages to symbolize war-torn Poland in this single moment, a country barely surviving years of Nazi onslaught only to be caught behind an Iron Curtain.

The director's father, Capt. Jakub Wajda of Poland's Seventy-Second Infantry Regiment, was one of approximately forty-four hundred Polish officers executed by the Soviets in the Katyn Forest massacre of 1940.

9. THE STORY OF G.I. JOE (1945)

Generally, World War II veterans envisioned themselves as neither heroes nor victims. Rather, most reasoned they had a job to do, unpleasant as it was, and addressed their uninvited challenge to the best of their abilities. Few films represent this soldierly self-assessment better than The Story of G.I. Joe, released while the war was still in progress.

Tagging along with a fictional outfit marching through Italy is the factual war correspondent Ernie Pyle (played brilliantly by a middle-aged and genial Burgess Meredith). Pyle was one of the few reporters who ventured to the front lines, and his experiences in Africa, Europe, and the Pacific forged a grave respect for the unsung and virtually unknown soldiers of lower rank.

Filmed in black and white, the movie portrays vividly the muddling grayness of infantry service, in which mire, boredom, and exhaustion are constants in life, and death is neither glamorous nor unexpected. Second only to Meredith in this candid picture of subtle acting and bold honesty is Robert Mitchum (as Lieutenant Walker) in his first starring role.

Despite its inglorious tone, the film was well received by war-weary Americans. Commanding general and future president Dwight D. Eisenhower called The Story of G.I. Joe the best war movie he had ever witnessed.²³

Though Ernie Pyle inspired its creation, the prolific and straightforward journalist never saw the film. In April 1945, while on assignment near Okinawa, he was killed by Japanese gunfire.

10. BLACK RAIN (1988)

For such a pivotal time in Japan's history, there are relatively few indigenous films directly addressing the atomic bombings. In fact, Black Rain was the first major Japanese feature on the subject in thirty years. Yet the piece well represents the treatment of the war as a whole within the national cinema.

Laden with imagery and allegory, the tale begins with the unleashing of atomic fire upon Hiroshima. Just beyond the doomed city, fallout descends upon the faces of women, including the young, angelic Yasuko (Tanaka Yoshiko). Ever after she is an unwilling witness to the disintegration of her village, her family, and her body.

In this epic story of a half-life, Black Rain weaves supreme performances, a haunting score, and transcending symbolism. In 1989, the film rightly won Best Technique at Cannes and Best Picture in Japan. Yet hidden within its frames is a theme often repeated in Japanese war films. Though condemning militarism and warfare, it is void of context, making no mention as to why so much suffering befell a populace. Devastation appears almost as happenstance rather than harvest, as if the fire purged a nation of its recent memory.²⁴

Recognizing the power of images, both the Imperial Government of Japan and the American Occupation Forces confiscated every print and negative of the atomic bombings. Decades passed before unedited photos of the aftermath were publicly released in Japan.