“The Great Escape” -- Not Exactly Escapist

 It used to be that all I knew about The Great Escape was Steve McQueen on a motorcycle. I figured this 1963 film was basically a precursor to 1968’s Bullitt (except that it’s set in a war zone instead of in the hills of San Francisco). In other words, I assumed it was intended to be an exercise in rugged machismo, definitely tailored to the males of the species. And so, in a way, it is. I don’t believe there’s a single female in the movie who has so much as a line of dialogue. It’s a men-without-women story all the way.

 But The Great Escape is a great deal more complex, more historically-based, and more emotionally charged than Bullitt. Most of the nearly-three-hour running time is spent in a World War II prison camp designed by the Nazis to make escape impossible. It’s not, as prison camps go, a terrible place to be. But a large contingent of military prisoners (mostly British and American) are quite willing to risk their lives to plan and carry out a mass escape through  cleverly crafted underground tunnels they’ve managed to dig by hand. Part of what makes the film important is that the escape really happened, though in fact many nationalities were involved, and Americans had only a small role in the break-out plans. As in real life, the moments of triumph in the film go hand in hand with tragedy. Yes, there’s a great escape, but—as in the actual historical episode—the upshot is not a good outcome for many who are deeply involved.

 Part of what makes the film fascinating is the way it shows how individuals of various stripes can come together to pursue a common goal. The prisoners hail from a variety of backgrounds, and can boast a variety of useful skills. The McQueen character—the ruggedest individual of the bunch—was in civilian life a student of structural engineering. At first determined to go on the lam solely on his own, he becomes an important cog in the bigger plan. Others have vastly different skills. Richard Attenborough plays a natural leader with foreign language abilities; James Garner is an expert scrounger; James Coburn is featured as an Aussie who is terrific at inventing useful contraptions. Some experienced tailors in the group craft civilian clothing for the guys to wear on the outside; some prisoners with forgery skills turn out counterfeit travel documents that look like the real thing. Of course there are individual crises as the escape plans are finalized. Charles Bronson, using an Eastern European accent like the one he grew up with, plays a former miner, an expert tunnel-digger who happens to be severely claustrophobic. Another of the would-be escapees can’t deny that he is going blind. The film follows many of these men as they taste freedom for the first time in many months. What’s particularly moving is that several of the men put themselves in mortal danger by volunteering to buddy up with more vulnerable prisoners who’ll never survive on their own.

 Making all of this activity coherent is one of Hollywood’s greatest action directors, John Sturges. Starting as an editor, Sturges moved into the director’s chair, always showing a special talent for portraying groups of men in action settings. Prior to The Great Escape, he helmed Bad Day at Black Rock (1955), Gunfight at the OK Corral (1957), and The Magnificent Seven (1960). Lots of his films feature tough guys and the serious jeopardy they face, but he liked to end with a modest but genuine sense of triumph.

 

 

 

Spending a Good Evening at Black Rock

Bad Day at Black Rock is by no means a small movie. This 1955 MGM western, shot in color and Cinemascope, features three past Academy Award winners: Walter Brennan, Dean Jagger, and star Spencer Tracy. Also prominent in the film are Oscar nominee Robert Ryan and two rising talents who would win future Oscars, Ernest Borgnine and Lee Marvin. Director John Sturges, a former editor, would go on from Bad Day at Black Rock to helm The Magnificent Seven and The Great Escape. The film’s wide-screen cinematography beautifully emphasizes the wide open spaces of the Lone Pine locales, and the mood is enhanced by André Previn’s haunting score.

  So this is hardly a modest indie. And yet it contains many of the elements I’ve learned to admire in B-movies. For one thing, it’s short and tight, coming in at a mere 81 minutes. Locations are limited; dialogue is clipped and to the point; tension is strong; bursts of action are prized. A mystery bubbles beneath the surface. There’s also, along with moments of dark humor, a subtle strand of meaningful social commentary. (I’m certain my former boss, Roger Corman, deeply admired this film, which captures many of his own aesthetic and social values.)

 Set in the California outback, circa 1945, the film begins with a passenger train arriving unexpectedly at a rural outpost. It disgorges a stocky man in a black suit and fedora, carrying a briefcase. The lounging locals are suspicious, especially when they notice the new arrival has only one arm. As played by Spencer Tracy, he is taciturn and unflappable, even when faced with a decided lack of hospitality. He’s hard-pressed to get a room at the one hotel, even though it clearly lacks for paying guests. When he introduces himself as John J. Macreedy of Los Angeles, and explains that he’s looking for a homesteader named Komoko, everyone becomes icier still. The cowpokes and ranchers hanging around the hotel lobby all seem to be sharing a secret. Down the town’s one main street, the sheriff (Jagger) appears to be drinking himself into oblivion. The veterinarian/undertaker (Brennan) lets slip that Komoko is no more.

 Managing with some difficulty to rent a Jeep, Macreedy heads over the hills toward the burnt-out mess that was once Komoko’s homestead. But the town’s unofficial boss, Reno Smith (Ryan) is not about to leave this intruder to his own devices. He sends the sadistic Coley Trimble (Borgnine) in pursuit, leading to a taut action sequence.

 It would be unfair of me to spell out precisely what happens next. Suffice it to say that eventually we learn what happened to Macreedy’s arm, why he’s so eager to find Komoko, and who among the townfolk eventually come to his aid. I’ll say also that this is covertly a story about the effects of racism and xenophobia, in the wake of World War II. And that, after all the anger and mistrust, the film ends in a moment of modest but genuine hope for a better future.

 The year 1955 was a great one for American dramas, many drawn from the Broadway stage, including Mr. Roberts, Picnic, and The Rose Tattoo. Two of James Dean’s three starring films, Rebel Without a Cause and East of Eden, were also released. Ironically, Borgnine’s supporting turn in Black Rock was eclipsed by his Oscar-winning good-guy role in Marty, which was also named Best Picture. Though Black Rock was nominated for its script, its direction, and Tracy’s performance, it went home empty-handed. Still, it will live on, in my memory banks and (since 2018) on the National Film Registry.