You often hear of propaganda films made during the second world war, but most see it as a nefarious tool used by the Nazis to brainwash their citizenry. They had many purposes: to solidify the idea that your side was ‘right’, that the other side was ‘wrong’, to reassure that the outcome of the war would be positive, to remind the people of what they were fighting for, that it was well worth the fight, to make you feel part of a common cause, to create affinity with your ‘side’, to dehumanise the others… well, Mrs Miniver was a film that ticked all these boxes and was made by the allies for an allied audience. This film was made for the American public in particular and the purpose was all of the above, but had the specific purpose of wanting to create an affinity between the British and American people. It gently massages in the idea that ‘yes, they have a class system we chuckle at and even disapprove of, but it is a system that works in its own way and is infinitely better than the National Socialism of the Nazis. You will have no doubt heard of Joseph Goebbels- the propaganda minister for the Reich, and father of the relentless political propaganda machine of the Nazis- on seeing this film he was moved to write that Mrs Miniver “shows the destiny of a family during the current war, and its refined powerful propagandistic tendency has up to now only been dreamed of. There is not a single angry word spoken against Germany; nevertheless the anti-German tendency is perfectly accomplished.” He is no doubt the best judge of what this film accomplished in the political sphere. 'These are the good guys and well worth the US joining the fight for. They are really just like you and I.’ Some forget that the Americans joined the war late, the Brits were already isolated from the mainland and it really did appear to be just a matter of time before a final assault would be made. But in the States there was much debate as to whether it was in the American interest to be involved at all. Mrs Miniver was made to ensure that the public were onboard with the battle for Europe. We are taken through a number of classic WW2 movie tropes. From the breakout of war announced to the congregation by a vicar in a quaint village church, through Mrs Miniver (played by Greer Garson) and her tight-knit family. Eldest son (Vincent/Vin, played by Richard Ney) signing up to the airforce and proposing to his beloved (an 18 year old aristocrat from the local manor) the same night he is called up, quickly followed by her husband (Clem - Walter Pidgeon) being called to take his preposterously small launch to help in the evacuation of Dunkirk. There are many scenes which stand out, which earned this film the best picture Oscar. One highlight of the film is undoubtedly Mrs Miniver’s encounter with a grounded German pilot who has evaded capture while the men are away. In this 10 minute segment the dialogue is sparse and no music is used whatsoever. This is not only unusual for the time but also unusual for the rest of the film- so often films bluntly dictated the mood with their use of a soundtrack, but here the only sound we hear beyond the German pilot’s barking of orders and Mrs Miniver’s calm, fearful responses are the occasional creak of wooden chairs and kitchen floorboards, at one point interrupted by the milkman’s whistle as he goes about his business. The silence lifts the tension and ensures that you realise just how alone they are together: ANYTHING could happen, and you wonder how it might end. It is an iconic wartime scene put together beautifully to leave a powerful impression. The film rolls on through the war and Vincent Miniver marries his sweetheart. The Battle of Britain also features heavily with Vincent in constant peril. But the threat is not limited to the skies. The Miniver’s cower in their Anderson Air Raid Shelter as it is shaken by bombs falling all around them, the children crying… it is impossible not to feel for this civilian family, not to worry for their wellbeing. Again the soundtrack is absent, but for the seemingly interminable whistling and crashing of bombs. The propaganda works. It is a movie that makes you want to jump in and help, to make it all just go away for them. But it doesn’t all just go away. The victims of this war are not depicted to be just those who choose to fight, but the innocent too. The final scene is the one you are meant to leave with. It is a speech given from the pulpit by the vicar who although ostensibly addressing his congregation is in fact addressing the people of the United States. Behind him is what is left of the north church wall, his roof in pieces around him. The pulpit stands, but is exposed to the elements. He vows on the people’s behalf to fight on, but they are vulnerable. “There is scarcely a household that hasn’t been struck to the heart…why should these be the ones to suffer? Are these our soldiers… our fighters? This is not only a war of soldiers in uniform. It is a war of the people. Of ALL of the people.” It echoes Churchill’s “on the beaches” speech, speaking of the battle needing to be fought by “every man, woman and child who loves freedom”. If you are to watch one film made during the war about the home front, this is it. It is somewhat theatrical, but this is where the style belongs: in the depiction of the British and their ‘stiff upper lip’. The emotion comes across as heartfelt, and it is exactly how the brits would have wanted to be depicted: sympathetically and with admiration for an idiosyncratic way of life lived by so few, but which has defined the nation for so long. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner All love is powerful, Hollywood has long exploited this. It sells this particular strain by the bucketload: a romantic love that knows no bounds and is limited by no earthly constraints. The English Patient is one of the most perfect expressions of this kind of love. This man (Almásy, played by Ralph Fiennes) and woman (Katharine Clifton, played by Kristin Scott Thomas) find themselves in a situation which needs no further complication. She is married to another, WWII is breaking out around them and they spend most of their time in crocked vehicles with dwindling water supplies in the deepest of deserts hoping that they will be rescued sooner rather than too late. But they do fall in love. That much you can see from the poster. It is as if Jane Austen and Rudolf Valentino collided, creating something new, but old. Somehow, innocence and good sense had been left out of the mix. Our two protagonists show neither of these qualities in any great abundance and as a result the fireworks fly, a marriage implodes and the devil may care. I can't say that I warmed to either one of them- but that doesn't seem to matter to me. Both are rich- he is a count, she is landed gentry. Both have lives of excess and folly, champagne camping trips, events in evening dresses and tuxedos, but also manage to take themselves terribly seriously. They are not used to having to earn anything, to having to wait for what they want. If it weren't for the fact that she falls for him, that the feelings are mutual, you are left with little doubt that his sense of entitlement to her by virtue of the fact that he loves her utterly and completely would not just be creepy (as it sometimes comes across), but dangerous. He has little compunction in letting her know that he has rights to her, that she should relent, and she does. His somewhat single minded view of how she should spend her time is, fortunately, shared. His willingness to do anything to see her again leads him to provide maps to Rommel's Nazi desert troops enabling a massacre of thousands. All in the name of his love for her. However, this portrait of a love which leaves a trail of destruction across North Africa is countered by another tale woven into the film, a tale of two simpler people who seek nothing material (Naveen Andrews plays Kip, Juliette Binoche as Hana). Their love hurts no one, but hanging above them is an ever approaching double-bladed sword of Damocles: everyone she loves dies, and he is a bomb disposal expert who spends his days defusing booby traps and unexploded ordinance. The English Patient is sumptuously shot. To make it this far into a review without mentioning this, or comparing it to Lawrence of Arabia (as lazy as it may seem, with both set in the desert) is absurd. But it is to the film's credit that the beauty is complementary, not central. The power of this film lies in the worlds created by the director (Anthony Minghella): utterly convincing. You willingness to believe is enhanced by the central performances, the intimacy between Fiennes & Scott Thomas is particularly striking. There is so much going for this movie, and it stood out so considerably from the other films of the mid nineties, I can understand why when it came to voting for 'Best Picture' the members of the Academy would have thought to themselves that this had the edge, and posted their ballot accordingly. It distils Hollywood's obsession for (and vision of) love so well that it doesn't even need you to like the characters very much in order to admire the depth of feeling they have for each other and enjoy this movie-going experience. So, both couples find their worlds shaken and shaped by love and death, and spend much of their time transcending both. It is well worth watching it happen. This was worth revisiting. An important note on the matter of size
If you get the chance, this is really one for a very big screen. We are lucky that these days most of us have a 40-odd inch screen in their home, but being immersed in this film, to physically look up to it, is where it is at. To feel the music, to become part of the world that is Minghella's creation is worth a cinema ticket. If you can't, although there is plenty to take from watching it scaled down, the epic nature of a film like this will most likely be lost in translation to the small screen. Enjoyable in both settings, but I recommend an outing for this one more than most. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
The Academy went from choosing the light and airy The Broadway Melody as Best Picture in 1930 to next voting the dark nightmare of trench warfare, All Quiet on the Western Front. This is a movie that is difficult to extricate from the context in which it was made- the great depression had led the masses into a ruined world from which there was no escape and for which they bore no direct responsibility. The recent advent of sound also made it more possible than ever to give audiences a taste of trench warfare. Cinema’s roots lay in circus tents, films of trains rushing towards the camera sent audiences diving for cover at the turn of the century in scenes impossible to imagine for our screen-conditioned eyes. Sound now added to the immersive impact, and as ‘Wings’ had been so well received just 3 years earlier (Best Picture winner 1929, also set in the Great War) one can picture the people behind AQotWF anticipating the prospect of the impact of adding sound and dipping into the deep palette of pathos provided by the great depression shared by the viewing public. Now, I could go deeper into the fresh young recruits learning how to deal with the horrifying realities of war from the worldly, grisled trench veteran they cling to (Kat) being a reflection of the naivety and unpreparedness of the charleston dancing, jazz handed, chorus-girl filled 1920’s smashing face first into the Great Depression. We could also comment on the clear disdain throughout for authority figures: ridiculed, mocked and undermined; being an expression of the feeling of disappointment in what the industrial military complex gave them (WW1 & the depression). The “look where blind nationalism gets us” message is woven in throughout. Our boys swap home comforts for trench foot at the behest of the Kaiser, are scoffed at by their drafted comrades for having been foolish enough to be talked into volunteering to be in this predicament. As an American (or any allied) audience member you would find yourself rooting for the survival of these men, quite rightly undermining any blindly patriotic views. The last act of the film moves away from the front line to take a look at goings on back home when our protagonist (Albert) is given leave after suffering an injury to his side. He is despairing at the attitude taken by those around him, who have not tasted the bitter sharp end of war and proselytise more young recruits. In fact, it is in a classroom where he is reunited with the professor who convinced he and his classmates to go to war where he makes what would have been considered a criminal speech in wartime: “It is dirty and painful to die for your country. When it comes to dying for your country it is better not to die at all”. Returning early to his 2nd Company comrades willingly, as he can no longer bear being on home leave, the film closes gently but powerfully. The final shot is a super-imposition of two images: a cemetery of white crosses which stretches to the horizon and the 2nd company marching in the same direction, each glancing back to look directly down the camera as if to say goodbye. So what impression does this film leave the modern viewer? The effect lies in an unrelenting effort to drown you in the whistles of shells, bullets and mud, which is entirely successful. Long lasting tracking shots along the trenches as troops are mowed down bring you closer to each soldier’s death than an aerial shot of a busy, muddy field. The shot that lingers on the empty space left by a man going ‘over the top’ long enough for you to feel the unease brought on by a sense that within seconds his corpse will be filling that same space, and so it does. The elaborate camerawork and direction rarely distracts and often impresses, adding to the scale of the production. The multitude of characters and a dreaded feeling of ‘who’s next?’ only dissipates when they are on leave, far from the front line, and this adds to the audiences' emotional connection with the young Germans. Once again the stylised, theatrical acting (although massively toned down in comparison to previous Oscar winners) is still somewhat off-putting, especially as everything else seems so contemporary in its execution. I can see that the tone of this post reflects the sombre, earnest spirit of the film. There are moments intended to shock, but the overall effect is one of a relentless, unforgiving advance towards an inescapable fate whose only relief comes from no longer partaking in the experience. Although it did not make for comfortable viewing for the first two acts there is undeniably something very special about a picture which so successfully allows you to join the experience of its protagonists. This was well worth revisiting. |
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AuthorPablo Griffiths is a man with a passion for many things. He has recently taken an interest in writing about film, and himself in the third person. |