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 Bridge on the River Kwai, The (1957)
Director:
David Lean
Stars: Alec Guinness, William Holden, Jack Hawkins, Sessue Hayakawa
Release Company:
Columbia
MPAA Rating: PG |
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The Bridge on the River Kwai
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The fact that I remember any of The Bridge on the River Kwai from my first viewing (at age 9) is remarkable in itself. Not that I was mature enough to remember much of it, but I've completely forgotten other movies from that time. That convinces me even more that David Lean ranks very highly among the visual artists of our time.
Certain images are indelible—the ones that remained with me after 43 years include the prisoners of war whistling the "Colonel Bogey March," Nicholson (Alec Guinness) challenging the Japanese colonel Saito (Sessue Hayakawa) and later constructing a solid bridge, and the blowing up of the bridge. For some reason, the idea of "Madness!" uttered by Clipton stayed with me as well.
I'm not sure that The Bridge on the River Kwai convinced me that all wars contain a touch of surrealistic madness to them, but Lean's film provides evidence.
The Bridge on the River Kwai is set in 1943, at a Burmese POW camp. The camp is near a railway that the Japanese are building as a passageway through Southeast Asia. One of the first images shows numerous graves next to the tracks. We meet Sheers (William Holden), an American in the camp, and see him charm and bribe a guard for a ticket to the sick bay—a better place than working the railroad and burying the numerous casualties.
From there, Sheers observes the dynamic and defiant entrance of Col. Nicholson and his battalion whistling the World War I marching song "Colonel Bogey March." It's all the funnier and more meaningful if you know the lyrics that WWII British soldiers actually sang to this tune:
Hitler has only got one ball!
Goering has two but very small
Himmler has something "simmler,"
But poor old Goebbels has no balls at all.
Soon, the central conflict arises: an eruption between Nicholson and Saito. Nicholson's Geneva convention agreement demands that officers not engage in manual labor; this goes against Saito's "soldier code." The inevitable power struggle ensues when Saito literally slaps Nicholson across the face with the Geneva convention document and then locks him inside a corrugated iron "oven." This continues until Saito realizes that he cannot possibly get a bridge built without his cooperation.
Saito prepares to commit hara-kiri if he cannot complete the bridge project, but Nicholson takes on the project with an obsession to make a better bridge than the Japanese could ever do, seeing that this bridge could become a long-lasting monument for generations to come.
When Clifton questions that he may be aiding the enemy, Nicholson refutes him by claiming that they are war prisoners who are merely showing British efficiency: "One day the war will be over, and I hope the people who use this bridge in years to come will remember how it was built, and who built it."
Nicholson has adopted the goal of showing future generations that British soldiers were superior to the Japanese, instead of remembering his original purpose.
Craziness like this cannot go unchecked. We have a parallel story that follows Sheers, who miraculously escapes from the camp and lands in a friendly village and eventually a British hospital. Here, Major Warden (Jack Hawkins) forces the unwilling Sheers to return to the POW camp and blow up the bridge, setting us up for the climax.
We realize where the plot is going, but the real tension rests with how each of the characters is going to make out. And that's David Lean's genius working—he is able to retain the smaller characters' stories within the framework of his epic film.
Alec Guinness deservedly won the Academy Award that year for Best Actor, but amazingly he was at the bottom of David Lean's list of candidates even after he had starred as Fagin in Lean's Oliver Twist.
Originally, Charles Laughton was cast in the role, but it's hard to imagine him playing a POW. Much better for a leaner Guinness (who wasn't terribly interested in the role when he first heard about it). He also had many disagreements with Lean during the filming, but the final results show that his reserved British personality, which staunchly holds on stubbornly to his obsessions, works magnificently.
William Holden has a secondary part that isn't as memorable, but it is believable. He often plays heroic types—it's a little strange to see him as a shirker who spends his energy trying to get out of duties. But this can be believed if we view him as an independent and cynical American who thinks the whole war effort is meaningless. It does seem natural for him to take a more heroic turn at the end.
Sessue Hayakawa is effective as the inept Japanese colonel who attempts to be hardcore, but when confronted by the Alec Guinness character, discovers he must find ways to save face. It's difficult to understand his English at times, but because he's playing a native Japanese character, this works adequately.
Hayakawa's a little old for the role at 68, and prior to The Bridge on the River Kwai, he had primarily appeared in silent movies. Lean was able to get a good performance from him, though. One scene comes across very memorable and real—the one in which Hayakawa breaks down crying from having to give in to Nicholson. The brutal Lean made Hayakawa cry by blaming his bad acting on destroying a day's work.
It's hard to think of David Lean without instantly recalling his epics, with their vast landscapes and wonderful cinematography.
Certainly noteworthy is the Academy Award-winning cinematography work of Jack Hildyard. Most of The Bridge on the River Kwai uses medium tracking shots and a number of close-ups, but the camera does some outstanding long tracking shots.
Perhaps the most notable of these is the final one, shot from a helicopter backing away from the bridge. (Remember, zoom shots weren't possible in 1957.) It's a beautiful bookend shot with a bird's eye view, showing the same basic theme that The Red Badge of Courage and Glory touch on—the idea that nature continues on despite the human madness of war.
The most remarkable thing about Lean's better epics is the way he is able to develop characters within the larger historical context. The Bridge on the River Kwai does this nearly as well as his immortal Lawrence of Arabia.
We even grow sympathetic towards Saito and his plight, and can chuckle a little when he responds "Yes, a beautiful creation"—referring to the sunset, when Nicholson had actually been describing his bridge.
The tension we feel in the end, concerning the outcome of the bridge, is not due to the traditional war-movie plot outcome; in fact, it's irrelevant whether the Japanese or Allied forces are victorious. We are more interested in seeing how it will affect these two obsessive colonels.
And what an acting tour de force Sir Alec Guinness provides in arguably his finest role. How does the colonel change from a military man determined to make sure that his officers don't engage in manual labor—to a bridge engineer who convinces his officers to pitch in, and recruits additional workers from the sick bay? What madness causes this inconsistency and newfound obsession for bridge building at all costs?
We do gain major insight into Nicholson's character on his finished bridge:
But there are times when suddenly you realize you're nearer the end than the beginning. And you wonder, you ask yourself, what the sum total of your life represents. What difference your being there at any time made to anything.
It's a poignant moment, and helps us understand Nicholson's motivations. This brings me to the question many people ask about the ending: Does Nicholson blow up the bridge deliberately?
A simple question perhaps, but it does focus on the most important aspect of Lean's films. They may fill a large canvas, but in the end, it's all about character. |
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