George Formby was the top box office star in the UK every year between 1938 and 1944 – an unequalled achievement and, I was surprised to see, Get Cracking stood up very well to viewing beyond nostalgia. The plots of his films were mere vehicles for Formby’s brand of gormless humour where it always ‘turns out nice again’ – his catchphrase. In fact he starts Get Cracking with it, a testimony to how well known he’d become. It’s no stretch to say that Get Cracking has avant garde elements with several minutes at the start featuring a voiceover that, he says, is reading the script and has a conversation with George.
Formby, and massive ’30s star Gracie Fields, both had working class backgrounds and were from Lancashire. No doubt they were seen as fresh in comparison with the Received Pronunciation that infected much of British cinema at the time. There are plenty of regional accents on show though George’s love interest, played by Dinah Sheridan, has unnerving cut glass pronunciation.
Much of the humour, derived from Music Hall, consists of slapstick and daft line, that never fail to tickle me, delivered absolutely straight:
“He has to be on guard on Thursday to stop the Germans if they invade.”
‘What! On his own?”
“No there’ll be six of us.”
Irene Handl (uncredited) is great as a character that’s even more dim than George. The sexual politics of the film isn’t too bad: Vera Frances, a child actor who made her last film in 1948 and is still with us, plays a teenage Cockney evacuee who works in George’s garage and she’s one of the brightest characters in the film.
No doubt people needed cheering up in 1943; as we still do in the UK now.
With Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk due to open in the UK this week [now released, see Keith’s review here], I thought it might be interesting to re-visit this Ealing Studios film from 1958 – the only other film completely focused on the Dunkirk evacuation. Joe Wright’s Atonement (UK/France/US 2007) includes a long segment dealing with events during the retreat and evacuation, but these form only part of a complex narrative about the relationships between three characters. Nolan didn’t mention these films in his Sight & Sound interview with Nick James in the August issue, arguing that his film will ‘fill a gap’ in British storytelling on screen. (James does mention the 1958 film.)
The military catastrophe that saw the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) and a significant part of the French Army trapped by German forces in a pocket around the port of Dunkirk in late May/early June of 1940 was turned into a propaganda victory with the successful evacuation of 338,000 British, French and other Allied troops taken off the beaches and brought back to the UK. Military historians still debate the reasons why the German forces failed to destroy/capture the Allied troops before they could leave. All the equipment, including military vehicles taken to France by the BEF was lost. In addition, many of the French troops rescued at Dunkirk were later returned to France to fight for the remainder of their country and were subsequently taken prisoner after France fell. More than 30,000 French troops in the ‘rearguard’ at Dunkirk were captured. Dunkirk was a defeat – virtually all Allied operations up to El Alamein in 1942 were defeats. The propaganda victory which established the ‘Dunkirk Spirit’ was based on the contribution of the ‘Little Ships’ – the civilian boats that augmented the Royal Navy vessels in the evacuation fleet. Here was the image of ‘total war’ and of the British people with their backs to the wall.
As I noted in an earlier posting on the recent British film Their Finest (2016), Dunkirk was not an appropriate film for propaganda purposes (i.e. visualising and representing the evacuation was not as effective as ‘spinning’ the story in more indirect ways) but some of the elements of the story did appear in fictionalised wartime narratives, including films made by Ealing Studios such as The Foreman Went to France (1942) and Johnny Frenchman (1945). In the 1950s Ealing did not join the other British producers in creating 1950s ‘heroic’ war films (e.g. The Dam Busters (1955) or Reach For the Sky (1956)). Instead, Ealing opted for more downbeat narratives such as The Cruel Sea (1953) in which one of the most memorable scenes sees Jack Hawkins, commander of a submarine-hunting corvette, risking the lives of torpedoed sailors in an attempt to destroy a U-boat. In The Ship That Died of Shame (1955), like The Cruel Sea from a Nicholas Monsarrat novel, three ex-Roal Navy men buy their wartime motor boat and find themselves sucked into a smuggling racket to service the black market in ‘Austerity Britain’ of the late 1940s. It’s perhaps not surprising then that Ealing’s Dunkirk film was similarly downbeat. Its director Leslie Norman had been the producer on The Cruel Sea.
In 1958 Ealing Studios was in its last incarnation having moved out of the Rank film empire and re-located to MGM’s British operation at Borehamwood. Leslie Norman had spent much of his career working on Ealing’s ‘overseas productions’ and had just returned from directing The Shiralee in Australia. For Dunkirk he had his DoP and editor from the Australian shoot, Paul Beeson and Gordon Stone. The script was based on several sources including an Elleston Trevor novel and two non-fiction books by military men. The screenplay was written by another veteran of Australian and African productions William Liscomb (with a younger writer, David Divine). Dunkirk is one of Ealing’s ‘small-scale epics’ with a long running-time (134 minutes). The plot sees the parallel stories of a group of small boat owners on the Thames and a small group of British soldiers separated from their regiment in Northern France. The two groups are destined to meet on the beaches of Dunkirk and the narrative cuts between them until those final scenes. We also briefly visit press conferences in Central London and Royal Navy bases in Dover and Sheerness plus General Gort’s HQ in France. Other than that, the top brass are kept out of it, only seen in newsreels watched by the troops. The film had a budget of £400,000 and Norman claimed to come in under budget. (For comparison, the first three or four Carry On films over the next few years were budgeted at less than £100,000 each. Ealing’s films were usually more expensive than the norm.) Dunkirk was expensive and a gamble for Ealing. MGM’s distribution muscle promised overseas sales and the film did go into profit, although the North American response was relatively weak. Surprisingly perhaps, the film only boasted two star names alongside a host of familiar character actors. John Mills as Corporal ‘Tubby’ Binns leads the group of Tommies and Richard Attenborough plays Holden, a rather reluctant boat-owner who needs a lot of persuading and shaming to make the trip. In many ways, the key figure in the film is Charles Foreman, a journalist who is also a boat-owner, played by Bernard Lee, a very familiar face but not considered a star. (He would later gain fame as M in the Bond films.)
Despite its commercial success, Dunkirk failed to inspire critics and scholars. Two of the chroniclers of Ealing Studios, Charles Barr and George Perry, are dismissive of the film. Both find it dull. Barr is particularly damning though he seems more concerned with equating its story of a defeat with Ealing’s own demise as a studio. David Quinlan suggests that it is “routinely exciting, but disappointing”. It seems to me that Michael Balcon as Ealing’s hands-on leader had embarked on a nearly impossible task – to make a commercial picture about a defeat and a propaganda ‘miracle’. Dunkirk comes across as ‘realistic’ in its attempts to include as a many different facets of the actual events as possible. There are attempts to create analysis through the juxtaposition of newsreel footage and scripted dialogue, but mostly the intent seems to have been to represent the events as fully as possible. I suspect its success was mainly with audiences who already knew about the events but who wanted to see them ‘documented’ in this way. In that sense, Balcon was justified. I found the film interesting rather than exciting, but it did make me think about how I might have felt thrust into such a situation.
The Bernard Lee character is clearly meant to be the representative of the ‘ordinary’ (middle-class) British man. And it is a very male film – virtually the only women in the film are the boat-owner’s wives. Foreman (Lee) is a journalist, although he never files any copy and we don’t find out who he works for. He clearly has clout as he knows all the foreign correspondents in London and he attends Ministry of Information briefings. It’s through him that we hear the grumbling about the lack of real information about what is happening in France and despair about complacency during the ‘Phoney War’ (the title given to the first seven months of the war before the German invasion of Denmark/Norway and then Holland/Belgium and France). Tubby and his men watch propaganda newsreels in France and in the UK, the women in Holden’s factory listen to Lord Haw-Haw on the wireless. Tubby (presumably a veteran soldier – Mills was nearly 50 at the time) finds the men in his group are sometimes whingeing. Having established this sense of a nation that doesn’t really know what is happening – in the armed forces or on the Home Front – Dunkirk closes with a voiceover that is actually quite balanced. It remembers the dead and the captured soldiers, sailors and civilians left in France and clearly states that it was a defeat, but then asserts that the evacuated men “dazed and resentful” returned to a nation that had learned that it now stood alone but ‘undivided’. The UK was a nation made whole. The very last scene shows a parade ground on which Tubby and his closest mate from Dunkirk are part of a larger squad being drilled by a CSM who warns them that Dunkirk was a defeat and not a victory and they need to work hard (and quickly) to become an effective fighting force. Tubby gives his mate a knowing look.
Dunkirk‘s producers were able to use an array of military equipment that was still in working order. The film was made on Camber Sands and in the Port of Rye in East Sussex, on the Thames and at Borehamwood. Even so they needed model shots and stock footage to convey the scope of military action. Christopher Nolan has advanced technologies and a huge budget. He promises something much more immersive but still aims for the personal stories of soldiers, sailors and civilians – and adds an airman. Nolan only has 106 minutes and he has talked about preferring the suspense thriller mode to that of the war film. It sounds like he will be less interested in the mythologising impact of the evacuation. It will be fascinating to see what kinds of meanings his film produces – and what it leaves out – and how audiences respond.
Ealing’s Dunkirk is re-released to cinemas in September in a restored version which will also be available on DVD/Blu-ray from StudioCanal. Here’s the Australian trailer from 1958:
Barr, Charles (1977) Ealing Studios, London: Cameron & Tayleur, Newton Abbot: David & Charles
Perry, George (1981) Forever Ealing, London: Michael Joseph
Quinlan, David (1984) British Sound Films: The Studio Years, 1928-1959, London: Batsford
Max Manus is interesting for three reasons. It is one of the most successful films ever at the Norwegian box office. It is part of a current cycle of Second World War films produced locally in countries that suffered Nazi occupation (see our recent post on Flame and Citron). It’s well made and feels genuine in its attempt to tell an important story.
Max Manus himself was an authentic hero of the Norwegian resistance – or more properly a soldier of the ‘Norwegian Independent Company’, the Norwegian force created in the UK after Norway fell. The UK DVD carries a documentary about him and the ‘making of’ the film made by the Norwegian public service broadcaster NRK. He survived the war and died only in 1996. The events portrayed in the film all happened more or less as they are represented with only a few minor changes such as compositing several lesser characters to make the narrative more manageable. Manus published his own accounts of his adventures soon after the war and these provided material for the script.
Early in 1940, Max, a rather wild and rootless young man in his mid-20s without close family ties, decided to volunteer for a small Norwegian contingent fighting on the side of the Finns against an invading Soviet Army in the so-called ‘Winter War’ (see our post on the Finnish war film with that title). Injured in battle, Max returns to Norway to discover that his country has been invaded by the Nazis. He links up with Oslo friends and becomes involved in acts of resistance. Captured by the Gestapo he escapes and sets off on a journey that would take him several months and halfway round the world before he reaches the UK where the Norwegian government in exile is based. In a training camp in Scotland he learns the skills of a saboteur and resistance fighter and is eventually parachuted back into Norway. For the remainder of the war he carries out various raids on German ships in the port of Oslo, retreating for bouts of ‘rest and recreation’ in neutral Sweden where he meets Tikken, the Norwegian wife of a British diplomat.
The film covers a range of actions and a range of sub-genres. There are sequences which relate to the urban intrigues with the Gestapo and others which focus on the commando-style sabotage attempts on German shipping on Oslo’s waterfront. The scenes in Stockholm seem more part of a Casablanca type of spy/romance. Much of the action was shot in Oslo with its distinctive architecture but the overall presentation is fairly conventional. Really this is just a cracking good story with real-life characters who were clearly very brave men and women. At the centre is a small group of young men who have known each other since childhood. This is what distinguishes the film from others, like Flame and Citron, in which resistance proves to be a more confusing process. Max Manus tells us a story that few outside Norway will know and since it is so engaging the film should prove both enjoyable and informative for any audience. Max is played with exuberance by Aksel Hennie, currently wowing audiences in the UK as Roger Brown in Headhunters – a very different role.
This film seems to have got a bit lost in the general failure of Iraq/Afghanistan war films – at least in the US. I quite enjoyed it. It’s a little predictable, but there are fine performances from the three leads (Ben Foster is clearly a talented young actor) and it is shot in a simple style making good use of the ‘Scope image (cinematography by Bobby Bukowski). I’ve seen the film described as 1970s American Cinema. I’m not sure about that but it’s certainly using drama to say something intelligent.
The film begins with Woody Harrelson as Captain Tony Stone, a long-serving US Army officer awaiting the appointment of a new man to his team detailed to inform relatives of the deaths of their loved ones. The new recruit, Sgt Will Montgomery is played by Ben Foster. This character has only a few more months to serve after being seriously injured in Afghanistan. He isn’t very keen on the new job – which must be undertaken with a strict adherence to the rules, including no physical contact with the relatives.
The new pairing develop a relationship slowly and Montgomery inevitably develops a forbidden contact with a widow played by Samantha Morton. The narrative swings between a potential relationship with Morton’s character and the dynamics of the relationship between the two soldiers. The only other significant element is Montgomery’s ex girlfriend’s upcoming wedding.
The film is directed and co-written by an Israeli migrant to the US, Oren Moverman. It is Moverman’s first feature as a director but he has a track record of interesting-sounding scripts (including the Dylan biopic, I’m Not There and Jesus’s Son (1999) – with Samantha Morton is a small part). Moverman did his compulsory military service in the Israeli armed forces. I confess to a certain wariness about what that experience has produced in other directors, but his take on the war is I think nicely summed up by one of the posters on IMdB who suggested that The Messenger is not an ‘anti-war’ film as such but one that simply tries to represent the hurt and emotional trauma that war brings.