Back in 2007 UK independent distributor Revolver had a big hit with the French thriller Tell No One. Since then they’ve tried to repeat the process with varying degrees of success (i.e. the romcom Heartbreaker). Revolver’s initiatives are to be welcomed if only because they are looking at ‘popular’ French product that the more art-orientated independents ignore. What then to make of this DVD release of the 43rd film by Claude Lelouch? I mention the ’43rd’ tag only because Lelouch himself tells us this in his voiceover that accompanies the credits. We also learn that he’s been in films for 50 years. He’s something of a forgotten figure in the UK, remembered mainly for Un homme et une femme which was an international smash hit in 1966 – and an Oscar winner. Twenty years later he offered a less successful sequel but apart from that his films haven’t been particularly successful in the UK. In France his critical reputation has never been high but his films are usually well-produced and often with big stars. Somebody has been watching those 40 plus films, so Lelouch appeals to certain audiences. His last big hit was Hommes, femmes, mode d’emploi in 1996 and What War May Bring lasted three weeks in the French box office Top 20 in September 2010 making around $2 million.
Revolver are trying to sell this film as a ‘war epic’ and indeed there are some action sequences of the D-Day landings and the final allied push into Germany in 1945, but primarily this is a story about a woman who “loves too fast”. This quote from the film might have provided a better title (the French title is not easily translated, but the original English title ‘What Love May Bring’ would have worked). The woman in question is Ilva who arrives in Paris as an 18 year-old refugee from Italy in 1936. Ilva’s mother marries a cinema projectionist but then dies a few years later. The film’s narrative is actually presented as one long flashback and it follows Ilva through the war years and into the postwar world. She loves ‘quickly’ and dramatically five men against the background of war – and cinema. The cinema scenes are beautifully rendered and a character clearly intended to be Lelouch himself appears as a small Jewish boy being sheltered by the projectionist and his daughter (this is a rather wonderful ‘live-in’ cinema with an apartment in the same building). The same boy appears as a grown-up film student in the 1950s, like Lelouch travelling to Moscow to shoot footage secretly and provoking a bizarre montage of seemingly all the love stories in Lelouch films which is inserted into the narrative! In fact the film is stuffed with these kinds of inserts and jokes about the history of cinema as well as posters and dialogue references to important films. Lelouch would like us to think that this is his tribute to cinema – his response to Truffaut amongst others – as much as his own experience of it.
There are several pluses in the film. Audrey Dana as Ilva is always watchable and holds the film together through her performance. She looks right for the part, ages convincingly and I could certainly believe that the male characters would fall for her. As well as the magical scenes set in the Eden Palace cinema (very effective screenings of classics like Le Jour se Leve and Hôtel du Nord in a beautiful cinema) there is music running throughout the film offering a history of French popular and romantic music – some of it composed by Francis Lai who has worked with Lelouch since the 1960s and some by Laurent Couson who plays a pianist and one of Ilva’s love interests in the film. The DVD looks great in CinemaScope. IMDB suggests that much of it was shot in Romania and there are certainly some epic sequences which reminded me of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Great War story A Very Long Engagement (2004). However, . . . I’m not sure that it works as a whole. Lelouch presumably sees this as his swansong. The publicity tells us it has been 10 years in the making. The cast and crew include several members of the extended Lelouch family. The story is written by Lelouch with Pierre Uytterhoeven also with Lelouch since the 1960s and Anouk Aimée (star of Un homme et une femme) has a cameo role. The tone swings between war, sex/romance, comedy and music. I hadn’t realised that Lelouch is from an Algerian-Jewish background and he draws on this for the elements of the film that seem to refer to the recent surge in films exploring the French Jewish experience of German Occupation. But these elements are only marginal to the central story, as are the plotlines dealing with the Resistance. Lelouch tends to lose the emotional impact of these narrative threads in switching to add something else to Ilva’s story (including an extraordinary sequence set in Texas). Researching the earlier Lelouch films suggests that this does seem to be his method – film narratives with lots of characters and romance relationships dependent on twists of fate. In a sense What War May Bring is essentially that – how some survive war and others do not all filtered through music, cinema and romance.
In short, if you are a Lelouch fan you should enjoy this. If you are simply a film fan you’ll be interested in the filmic references. Those intrigued by the idea of ‘popular’ French Cinema may find the film attractive and enjoyable in parts but not totally coherent and if you are a French film scholar you’ll find it to be a strangely fascinating generic hybrid with a rather absurd postmodernist edge as the ‘author’ inserts himself into the story.
The UK DVD/Blu-ray is released on May 2nd from Revolver. It will also be available for rent and online download.
The UK trailer can be downloaded here. It gives a good view of the battle scenes but not the central romance (and love of cinema).
This film seems to have gone straight to DVD in the UK. I would have liked the chance to see it in a cinema and I feel that some of its power is diminished on video. Based on diaries first published in book form Switzerland in the 1950s and then controversially in Germany in 1959 (after which the anonymous author withdrew the book until after her death) the stories finally re-emerged in Germany in 2003. The film details the last few days of war in 1945 when a Red Army company finds itself camped on the streets of Berlin. The soldiers don’t know why their commanders are holding them back from a final assault on the Reichstag, but in the meantime they take advantage of the local population – which means casual rape of German women. For the women, young and old, there are few options. ‘Fraternisation’ is not a moral choice but rather the only pragmatic course. ‘Anonyma’, an attractive younger woman who speaks Russian (and has worked in Moscow as a journalist), decides to seek out a Russian officer as a ‘protector’ rather than suffer continual attacks from soldiers. What will happen when the war ends?
Nina Hoss is terrific as Anonyma but there are other strong performances as well in a large cast playing the women and the Russian soldiery. It’s one of those films which ‘humanises’ war and its effects. Anonyma is certainly a patriotic and nationalistic German, if not a fascist (she refuses to directly answer the question “Are you a fascist?”). Her husband goes to the Russian front with the SS in 1941. But despite this we feel for her and the actions she takes. Similarly, the film shows the brutality of the Russians, but also discusses the atrocities they have suffered at the hands of the Wehrmacht and particularly the SS. The Russian soldiers and their officers become individualised. The casting offers us a variety of Soviet ‘types’ from the grizzled officer through the Mongolian soldier to young blonde men and women (we learn that there are over a million women in the Red Army). Quite noticeable too is the surprise that the older Germans show when they realise that the Russians are not ‘beasts’ and their slow understanding that the Russians were forced into a war to defend themselves. On the other hand, it is not all friendly discovery and there is tragedy as well. The film is a challenge for women in the audience since the Russian men view rape as relatively trivial compared to the atrocities they have seen and suffered (and committed).
What interests me most is that director Max Färberböck and co-writer Catharina Schuchmann have so deftly blended several genres and somehow caught the contemporary mood – that sense that a younger generation now wants to explore many of the stories of the 1940s in Europe before the last survivors of the action are gone. In this sense the film sits alongside well-known titles such as Der Untergang (Downfall) (Germany/Austria/Italy 2004), Sophie Scholl: The Last Days (Germany 2005), Flame and Citron (Denmark/Germany/Czech Republic 2008), Black Book (Netherlands/Germany/Belgium 2006) Winter in Wartime (Netherlands 2009), Fateless, (Hungary/Germany/UK 2005), Defiance (US 2008), Max Manus (Norway 2008), Un Secret (France 2007), L’armée du crime, France 2009) etc. – all released in the last few years. Most of these films have been big popular hits in their domestic markets. Anonyma has been turned into a TV series in Germany this year (which reminds me of the UK TV series Tenko which involved a group of European women put into camps by the Japanese in 1942 after the occupation of Malaya and Java). This is quite surprising since the Lumière Database suggests only a modest performance at the German Box Office.
The fate of women in Berlin in April/May 1945 has appeared in other films. The two I remember are Carl Foreman’s The Victors (US 1963) which ends with a fight over a woman between a Russian and an American and Fassbinder’s wonderful The Marriage of Maria Braun (West Germany 1979) – the metaphorical tale of a woman standing alone in the rubble of 1945 and what happens to her in Adenauer’s West Germany. (There is a brief moment in Anonyma when two Germans discuss the future they hope to see when the war finally ends.)
But whereas Maria Braun escapes the rubble, a whole genre of films developed in both East and West Germany in the months and years following the final days of war in Berlin. These were Trümmerfilme or ‘rubble films’, the most famous of which is Die Mörder sind unter uns, the first post-war film in East Germany which deals with the problem of identifying former war criminals now living in a new society. Anonyma hints at this and raises questions about how she will survive. The most harrowing rubble film was arguably not German at all but Italian – Roberto Rossellini’s 1947 feature Germany Year Zero. One other point to make is that the contrast between the sunny (even when smoke-filled) streets outside and the dark and dingy rooms in which the women, children and old men hide recalls the high period of Hollywood film noir. Hardly surprising since this was the film noir period worldwide, both in terms of style and thematic. I was reminded of similar Japanese films set in the rubble of Japanese cities in the immediate aftermath of the war – both made in the late 1940s and in the 1960s – such as Suzuki Sejun’s lurid and delirious Gate of Flesh (Japan 1964). That would make an interesting contrast with Anonyma: Prostitutes in garish one-colour outfits versus the subdued realism/naturalism of Anonyma.
This is the third highly celebrated Israeli film set during the 1982 invasion of Lebanon to have appeared in recent years. It follows Beaufort (2007) and Waltz With Bashir (2008) and in 2009 it won the Golden Lion at Venice, the biggest prize so far for the ‘new’ Israeli Cinema.
This seemed to me to be the ‘hardest’ of the three, the most focused on ‘war really is shit’ and the least compromised by Israeli ideologies. It’s unfortunate then that a) I had to watch it during another week when the Israeli Defence Forces have killed Palestinians and aid volunteers on a Turkish ship in international waters and b) that it found itself at the centre of the boycott of the Toronto International Film Festival’s ‘Tel Aviv focus’ in 2009 (a boycott which I would have supported). Lebanon should be judged on its own merits even if the overall Israeli government policy should be condemned.
The film is unique in that apart from the opening and closing shots, the narrative is presented as either taking place inside a tank or as viewed through the tank driver’s or commander’s eyepiece. This intensely claustrophobic location is an important element in the story. Writer-director Samuel (Shmulik) Maoz was himself the gunner in a tank like this during the invasion and it has taken him more than 25 years to tell his story. Waltz With Bashir was made on a similar basis, but compared to Lebanon seems almost lightweight. I’m sure it isn’t, but in cinematic terms that’s how the comparison feels to me.
The plot outline of Lebanon is very simple. A tank with its crew of four – three who know each other and a new guy – is ordered to advance into Lebanon and join a small group of paratroopers. The paras officer is in overall charge and he leads the combined group into a village which has been bombed by the IDF (the ironically named Israeli ‘Defence’ Forces). But something has gone wrong in the planning and instead of a few Lebanese villagers, the group meets fierce resistance from Syrian soldiers. Can the Israelis extricate themselves – with the help of a couple of Phalangists (Lebanese Christians allied to the Israelis) as guides?
What follows is hard to watch but never less than engrossing. Conditions in the tank are awful but are made worse by the conscripts’ lack of discipline and professionalism. These films generally get criticised for their portrayal of young Israelis under pressure and the absence of any detailed representation of the Arab ‘other’ they are fighting. I don’t think that charge stands against Lebanon. We feel for both the solders inside the tank and those killed or made homeless by its actions. The ‘view from the tank’ becomes a powerful device on at least two occasions – the first when an elderly Arab man stares defiantly straight at the camera in close-up while next to him his companion at a café table lies with his head in a pool of blood and the second when a woman staggers out of a building and comes up to the soldiers. I confess at this point that I wondered if she was suddenly going to plant a bomb on the tank. The film teeters on the edge of a Hollywood-style narrative and a realist humanist representation. The latter wins out and the finest moments are those when the confines of the tank force actions of humanity onto the soldiers – such as helping a shackled prisoner to pee in a can. I’m reminded of my favourite piece of writing about war when, in Homage to Catalonia, George Orwell writes about seeing an enemy soldier running along his trench lines. Orwell knows that he should shoot him but when he sees that the man is trying to hold up his trousers and is clearly suffering from the runs, he asks himself “How can you shoot someone with their trousers round their ankles?”
Lebanon has had some mixed reviews. On IMDB, war movie fans and ex-soldiers complain that the film isn’t realistic in the depiction of the procedures the tank crew follow or don’t follow – which rather misses the point. This a representation of a nightmare. It isn’t about ‘winning’, it explains nothing about why the tank is there, it doesn’t set out to critique policies or politicians or military commanders. It uses a restricted cast and location to tell us something about the nightmare. What I think I will remember, as much as the stifling physical confines of the tank, are the noises – the hydraulics of the turret turning, the viewfinder changing its zoom setting, the roar of the engine and the explosions and screams outside, the orders barked over the radio and the occasional use of music. All of these should, I think, be experienced in the cinema. I suspect much will be lost on a TV set.
Ichikawa Kon’s The Burmese Harp is one of the films that promoted Japanese Cinema to the world in the 1950s. I’ve been waiting to see it for almost 40 years and it’s not available in the UK (although I discovered that it had been shown on BBC4 in 2002 – presumably when I was on holiday). It’s been available on a Criterion Region 1 DVD since 2007.
Taken from a novel written only a year or so after the events it covers, the film offers a beautifully photographed and sensitively played narrative about the moment of defeat and humiliation for the soldiers of the Imperial Japanese Army in 1945. The novel by Takeyama Michio was intended as ‘young adult fiction’ and first serialised in a literary magazine. This might explain the fairy tale/folk tale style of the narrative.
Plot outline (possible spoilers!)
A company of Japanese soldiers are first seen crossing Northern Burma in an attempt to reach Siam (now Thailand), a Japanese ally (but actually occupied by the Japanese). This unusual company is led by a captain who is a draftee from a music school and who has taught the men to sing as a formal choir. One soldier, the company scout Mizushima, has learned to play a Burmese instrument, a saung or traditional harp which he carries on his back. The singing helps to keep up morale.
When the company reach a Burmese village, they seek shelter but are surprised by the approach of an Indian Army company. The Japanese sing to cover their preparations for the expected attack, but they are surprised when the Indians and British respond with the same song ‘Home Sweet Home’. Conflict is averted when the British inform the Japanese that the war has ended. The Japanese company are taken to a holding camp but the Captain persuades the harpist to undertake a mission (approved by the Brits) to try to get a Japanese company holed up in mountain caves to surrender. When they refuse, they are all killed in a final British assault and the harpist goes missing. He survives and is nursed back to health by a monk. Taking the monk’s robes he later decides to look for his comrades. His search and his comrades actions in trying to find him (they seem to have a fair amount of freedom in the camp) take up the rest of the narrative.
Here’s the trailer for The Burmese Harp:
The film is generally discussed in terms of Ichikawa Kon – as his first film to be seen in the West – and as a possible anti-war film in the context of 1950s humanist cinema (the dominant mode of international art cinema at the time). I’m not going to rehearse all of these arguments as there are some excellent reviews out there already, not least the two Criterion essays by Japanese Cinema experts Tony Rayns and Audie Bock. Of the two the Rayns is more useful, I think – though that may be because it is more recent and attuned to the possibilities of internet publishing.
I want to develop some points that aren’t covered so much in these essays. Despite Rayns’ essay, there are relatively few British commentaries on the film and this intrigues me as the war in Burma and the experience of the Japanese occupation of Burma and Siam was more of a British than an American affair. The Errol Flynn film Objective Burma! in 1945 caused more offence to British audiences than most Hollywood films. It appeared at a time in 1945 when the ‘forgotten 14th Army’ in Burma were still fighting (or had just got leave in India). There is a long discussion on IMDB bulletin boards. I can’t remember if I’ve seen the film, but I’ve certainly been ‘warned off’ it. As far as I can see it is a quite legitimate film about an American Special Forces Group (cf. Merrill’s Marauders (1962)).
My point here is not to criticise Hollywood but to explore the hurt felt by British commentators and audiences in 1945. The history of the Second World War in this South/South East Asian sector is perhaps the least known of all the major campaigns and the British in particular were humiliated by the early losses to the Japanese. 130,000 British, Australian and Indian troops surrendered to the Japanese in the three weeks of fighting in which British forces suffered their biggest ever military defeat – losing Singapore and Malaya and then most of Burma with the Japanese advance finally halted in North-East India.
The experience of British POWs was terrible and is represented in several films, most famously perhaps in The Bridge Over the River Kwai (1957) but more interestingly perhaps in A Town Like Alice (UK 1956) and the TV series Tenko (1981) – both of which deal with European women held in Japanese prison camps. The notorious film of the period was Hammer’s The Camp on Blood Island (1958) and the ‘revised’ view came in the intriguing UK/Japanese production of Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence (1983) directed by Oshima Nagisa and starring David Bowie. In all of these films (and implicitly in a number of other action films and melodramas with a similar setting) there is a potential clash between British and Japanese culture. It manifests itself in several ways – the different military traditions, attitudes to colonialism, the position of women in society, attitudes towards religious beliefs.
When I was a child in Blackpool in the 1950s, I was particularly conscious of all of this as many young men from the town had been captured in Malaya/Singapore as part of the 137th Field Regiment and the stories about the Japanese prison camps were well-known. What did Ichikawa Kon know in 1956, I wonder? As Tony Rayns points out, the author of the original novel, like most Japanese in 1946, would not have been aware of what went on in the camps in Burma/Siam/Malaya. And it’s fair to guess that even by 1956, unless they were particularly interested in Western literature, most Japanese might not have realised the extent to which the Imperial Army misbehaved (the films over the next couple of years presumably created some sort of reaction in Japan). But surely by 1985 when Ichikawa re-made The Burmese Harp in colour, he would have realised how strange the film felt (he was using the same script-adaptation of the novel by his wife Wadda Natto)? The film was clearly shot partly on location in Burma (which in 1956 was a free nation and no longer part of the British Commonwealth – and not under the control of the military as today). Whether it was a second unit or Ichikawa himself, the shooting of temple scenes can be seen on the trailer. If he was in the country, Ichikawa must have learned more of what went on – I’d be surprised if the Burmese didn’t say something.
What we see is a Japanese company of soldiers presented like any other group of ordinary men pressed into military service. The only ‘fanatical’ soldiers are the Japanese that Mizushima attempts to persuade to surrender. The British, Indians and Australians seem remarkably composed, tolerant and almost bemused by the behaviour of the singing soldiers. The re-patriation of Japanese soldiers from the holding camp is orderly (and seemingly swift). In reality, many soldiers took months to get home and the British authorities had many other issues to deal with that were perhaps more pressing.
So, the narrative of this film feels almost like a fantasy. This doesn’t mean it has no relevance to what was happening in 1956 when it was released. But it might explain why some readings focus more on the spiritual undertones and the discourse of comparative religion. Burmese Buddhism is clearly different from the Buddhism in Japan, so that Mizushima’s adoption of a Burmese Buddhist perspective on the war and its aftermath is different from those of his comrades. At the same time, one of the most moving scenes in the film comes when Mizushima observes a Christian burial attended by a group of British nurses, seemingly for an unknown soldier. On his travels through Burma, Mizushima discovers the rotting corpses of Japanese soldiers in many places – in the mountains, by the river, in the forests. The local Burmese seem impassive, but do help bury the dead when Mizushima leads by example. We don’t see any British/Indian dead.
I’m trying to think about the Japanese films that are set abroad and specifically those that deal with the colonial/imperial relationship. I’m stuck really. I can remember a Naruse melodrama with scenes set in Indo-China where the protagonist is working for the Japanese Forestry service and there are some films which show the Occupation of China, but in neither case do I remember anything about the interaction between the Japanese and colonised peoples – e.g. in Korea, Manchuria, Formosa and then in Siam and the conquered territories in 1942-5. In this sense, The Burmese Harp stands out. Come to think of it, I haven’t really seen any Japanese films about being Japanese outside Japan in a peacetime situation. Anyone any ideas about films I should explore?
Tony Rayns points out that The Burmese Harp was released in two parts in 1956 with each part forming part of a double bill. The film was then cut down from 148 mins across the two parts to a single 120 minute film (which explains why it carries the Nikkatsu 1957 credit) for export. It would be interesting to know a) what was in the missing 25 minutes and b) what the films were paired with on release. Ichikawa also directed Fires On the Plain (1959), a more hard-hitting account of the Japanese defeat in the Philippines. He is one of the most interesting Japanese directors of the post-war period and went on making films until 2006 – he died in 2008 aged 93.
Beaufort is set at the time of the Israeli withdrawal from South Lebanon in 1999-2000 after 18 years of military occupation. The title refers to a hill-top observation post manned by a small group of IDF (‘Israeli Defence Forces’) soldiers and built in the ruins of a Crusader fort first established in the 12th Century and occupied by successive groups of soldiers ever since (including the PLO in the 1970s up to the Israeli attack in 1982). Writer-director Joseph Cedar is a Jewish- American who grew up in a Zionist family and lived in a settlement in Occupied Palestine for two years whilst writing one of his two earlier Israeli films, Time of Favour (2000) (as he explains in an interview in Cineaste Vol XXXIII No 2 in 2008). All three of Cedar’s films (Campfire (2004) about Zionist settlers is the third) have been hits in Israel and Beaufort was the official Israeli Oscar contender in 2008, receiving a Nomination as Best Foreign Language Film – it won a Silver Bear at Berlin.
In many ways the film is a classic Hollywood B movie ‘combat picture’ about the grunts who find themselves effectively abandoned by the their military chiefs. Robert Aldrich and Sam Fuller come to mind. Cedar himself says he was inspired by Lewis Milestone’s Pork Chop Hill (1959), Malick’s Thin Red Line, Petersen’s Das Boot and Kubrick’s Paths of Glory. I have to say that visually and in terms of the fort’s defenders’ behaviour, I was strongly reminded of several science fiction films. The poster below shows a shot that occurs several times and uses the strange mise en scène created by the prefabricated living quarters and tunnels connecting the various parts of the base. Given the cumbersome kit the soldiers carry and their helmet camouflage, they at times resemble astronauts on a space station under attack from an unseen enemy. They observe the world much of the time through video cameras and the only evidence of the enemy is the barrage of incoming missiles.
One of the striking aspects of the IDF is the age of the soldiers. The commander of the fort is a Lieutenant who is only 22. Although there are a couple of older men, most of the fort defenders seem to be late teens, early 20s. I understand that the IDF mainly comprises conscripts who have three years of service starting at age 18 (for men – women only have to do two years and this won’t usually be front-line service) followed by annual possible reserve call-ups up to age 49.
I confess that when I first watched the film, I thought it was going to be an anti-war statement, but on reflection I’m starting to find it a more disturbing piece – especially after I read a critical commentary that I found very convincing (an excellent resource on the film from a US Israeli Studies scholar). The main conflict in the film is not so much offered by the Hezbollah missiles which rain down on the Israelis with ever-increasing accuracy, but the mismatch between the experience of the ‘grunts’ in the bunkers of Beaufort and the political machinations of the army chiefs and politicians. The focus for the conflict is the young base commander Liraz. He is himself on the edge of some kind of breakdown. He isn’t the greatest military commander and at one point he has a complete funk when he fails to drag a comrade out of danger. But he feels for his men and he generally tries to do what is best for them. At the climactic point in the film he rails against the top brass who order that the troops must stay in the firing line (with extra protection) when everyone knows that a few days later they will retreat anyway. Liraz seems like a riposte to the heroic young commander from earlier Israeli war films and the whole group on the base are portrayed as disintegrating as a disciplined unit.
The film is very much associated with a siege mentality and I was intrigued to read an essay by Nitzan Ben-Shaul in 24 Frames: The cinema of North Africa and the Middle East on an earlier Israeli war film, Kippur (2000) written and directed by Amos Gitai. Ben-Shaul describes it as a ‘siege film’ and this seems to fit several Israeli films, including Beaufort. The argument is that the siege mentality is built into the Israeli psyche. It comes from religious doctrine, from the history of Zionism and from the recent history of the conflict with the Palestinians. The sense of siege becomes acute in films after 1980 and Ben Shaul argues:
“War is posited as the sole origin of a society that is morally, emotionally, aesthetically and mentally corrupt. Society is represented as anxious and suspicious, its members being malicious and violent, or naive and therefore lost, confused and in despair. This confusion, anxiety and despair are supported by disjointed story and plot lines, articulated within a closed narrative space.” (op cit p.214)
I’m not sure all of that is applicable to Beaufort, but much of it is. The other important point to note is that like the other recent Israeli war film released in the UK in 2008, Waltz With Bashir, Beaufort never shows the enemy and never properly explains the Israeli occupation of Lebanon. The suffering brought about by occupation is thus represented by the effects on Israeli soldiers – not the Lebanese and Palestinians.
Beaufort needs to be analysed and mulled over for the reasons outlined above. Having said that, it is still worth watching for its representation of the futility of most military actions.
Winter in Wartime (Oorlogswinter) was possibly the most successful film I saw in Kolkata, partly because it offers a conventional genre film which is both entertaining but also suggestive of an attempt to explore aspects of the wartime German occupation of Holland through the experiences of a young teenager.
The premise is straightforward. The main protagonist is Michiel, son of the mayor of a small Dutch town in 1943/4. Looking for excitement, he and a friend visit the crash site of a downed RAF Mosquito, searching the wreckage for souvenirs. Michiel is arrested by the Germans but is let off when his father intervenes. This is the first of several references to how families respond to the occupation. Is the mayor a collaborator? Initially, Michiel is unaware that one of the two RAF men bailed out and, from his position dangling from his parachute caught in a tree, shot and killed a German soldier. The Germans are keen to find whoever shot the soldier and enquiries begin.
When a friend entrusts Michiel with a message and is then arrested, the teenager decides to disobey his father and uncle and get involved in the Resistance, albeit on his own. He reads the message, discovers the wounded airman in the woods and plots to get him to safety. The final third of the film becomes an exciting chase narrative as a resourceful Michiel tries to effect the safe passage of the airman across the local river.
There are several reasons why the film works so well. Not least is the wintery landscape, beautifully presented in CinemaScope in very muted tones. In fact, I first began to write about the film thinking that I’d seen a B+W print. I was reminded of one of my favourite war pictures, Carl Foreman’s The Victors, which includes a memorable scene in the snow when an American deserter is shot by a US Army firing squad. Added to this is the high level of the performances by the whole cast, but especially Martijn Lakemeier as Michiel. He actually looked and behaved as I imagine boys in the 1940s did – I have photographs of my brother in the late 1940s and this is my yardstick for ‘authenticity’. Although the film is a genre narrative with conventions intact – Michiel’s older sister is an attractive nurse who naturally falls for the equally attractive young British flyer – there is also an attempt to resist typing. Apart from the stereotypical Nazi commander of the local forces, the Germans are shown as real people not monsters and the real focus is on the Dutch community and how it responds to Occupation. Michiel is the recipient of two acts of kindness from German soldiers who unwittingly help him when he is actually working against them. The narrative is a clever mix of ‘boys own adventure’ and serious questions about how to behave under Occupation, who to trust and how to deal with family loyalties and issues of patriotism in the context of real life and death situations. All credit to writers Mieke de Jong, Martin Koolhoven and Paul Jan Nelissen who adapted the novel by Jan Terlouw and to Koolhoven who directed the film.
Winter in Wartime (an accurate title, but not a commercial one?) follows other recent attempts to explore aspects of the ‘Home Front’/Resistance in Holland (Black Book, 2006), Denmark (Flame and Citron, 2008) and Norway (Max Manus, 2008). Like the last of these, Winter in Wartime is an Oscar contender. Other recent war films discussed on this blog include the Polish-American Defiance and Spike Lee’s Miracle of St. Anna. One suggestion is that the current period offers the last occasion to remember the war while there are still survivors of the period alive. Another suggestion is that the birth of the ‘new Europe’ of the expanded EU has prompted filmmakers to explore the recent histories of their countries. However, it’s worth noting that there has also been interest in the First World War with young people in particular interested in what their great grandparents experienced. So perhaps the genre will survive for some time yet.
These European war films have generally been popular in their own domestic markets but a quick glance at IMDB suggests that in the Netherlands audiences have to some extent divided between those that prefer the action-driven Hollywood style of Paul Verhoeven’s Black Book and those that rate the more muted drama of Winter in Wartime. I’ve only seen part of the Verhoeven flick but I think that both films are worthwhile entrants in the current cycle.
The Dutch trailer for the film is here on the official website.