Leben und Sterben des Colonel Blimp

Colonel Blimp started life as a satirical cartoon for the London Evening Standard by Sir David Low. An ageing, plump, pompous and eternally red-faced blowhard, Blimp was Low's idea of the militaristic upper-classes; the kind of chest-puffing Jingo who would voice his frequently contradictory declarations from a Turkish bath wearing nothing but a towel. At first, it would seem that Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is directly adapting the political cartoons, as the old man Colonel is rudely disturbed from his sleep in a Turkish bath by a group of youngsters who have arrived early for a planned war game, to declare that such chivalry in war will not be practised by the enemy. We then go back 40 years, and any hint of satire makes way for a story of romance, friendship, and growing old.

During the Boer War in 1902, the young Clive Candy (Roger Livesey) receives a letter from Edith Hunter (Deborah Kerr) in Berlin, who warns him that a known rogue named Kaunitz is spreading anti-British propaganda. Going against orders, Candy travels to Germany and ends up causing a scene by provoking Kaunitz. To settle matters, a duel is arranged with a randomly-chosen German officer, who turns out to be Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook). While recovering from their wounds in a military hospital, the two men hit it off and begin a friendship that will last for more than 40 years. Moving through the First and Second World Wars, we follow Candy as he rises through the military ranks, fails and succeeds in love, before finding himself an old man, greatly outdated and socially displaced.

It's astonishing that this film got made at all. On top of being rather experimental in terms of tone and narrative structure (it feels very much like the English equivalent of Citizen Kane), Colonel Blimp was shot in glorious - and expensive - Technicolor during wartime, running at almost three hours when most films wouldn't dare to push 100 minutes. Winston Churchill tried to ban it, believing it to be an anti-war propaganda piece poking fun at the idea of 'British-ness', when it is anything but. Instead, the film deliberately gives out mixed signals, lovingly embracing the idea of gentlemanly conduct during a bloody war, while pondering the necessity of brutality, especially when faced with an enemy who play like the Nazis did (and were doing at the time, of course). While British propaganda was making sure to send a clear and strong message about the enemy, Colonel Blimp makes one of its main characters a sympathetic German, and is clear to highlight that these nations will be friends again in the future.

Livesey is staggering as Candy (who later becomes Wynne-Candy). The make-up work is absolutely flawless, easily trumping the big Hollywood productions we get these days. The man genuinely ages before our eyes, and Livesey manages to entirely convince as a man gaining experience and weariness through the years. He may be a man whose values are slowly becoming obsolete, but he remains a good man, and a thoroughly lovable one. Walbrook delivers an understated performance, and brings a tear to the eye during a monologue in which tries to convince British officials why they shouldn't deport him back to Nazi Germany, and Kerr juggles three roles - as Candy's lost love Edith; his wife Barbara; and his driver 'Johnny' in his later years - with absolute ease. It has remarkable scope yet is incredibly intimate, and it's a film that should have been branded across every cinema screen in the country by the War Office. Quite possibly the finest film ever to emerge from our rainy shores.

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is one of the most deeply moving films I've ever seen. It's amazing how independent producers (the Archers--Powell & Pressburger) managed to put together a lavish Technicolor epic without government assistance in wartime England--but they did it. it contains one of the most subtle "why we fight" themes--to preserve the English (and, hopefully, American) sense of fair play exemplified by the title character. The emotional kicker is a scene which takes place in 1939 in a British police station, where the German (played by Anton Walbrook--a German refugee actor) calmly and drily narrates how and why he came to settle in England. Just the thought of the scene moves me to tears. It's a marvelous piece of acting. The narrative technique--the story contained in one, long flashback--was in vogue on both sides of the Atlantic in the early 1940s--one can think of Sam Wood's Saratoga Trunk (Warner Brothers, 1943) as a good example--but the shift from 1942 to 1902 is accomplished by a very deft piece of editing. Colonel Blimp enters the pool of the Royal Automobile Club an old man, and emerges 40 years earlier! Colonel Blimp's true subtext is how civilization, friendship, and love survive times of chaos and barbarism (not to mention war) and, indeed, triumph by their survival. It is especially timely at the time of this writing (late March 2003).

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is one of the most complex and involving character studies in cinema history made even better by the fact that it also explores notions of order and historical perspectives. The central character, the jovial and loyal Clive Candy, is the representation of the old order of things: traditional British ideas of honor, commitment and playing by the rules. As the 20th century hurls forward, he and this mindset are confronted by sharply disagreeing ideas including modern warfare and Nazism.

Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger established themselves as the preeminent British filmmakers during World War II with this film and 49th Parallel. These two films are unique in that they combine both well-done craftsmanship and sophisticated ideas about the nature of politics and national relations. There is much talking about the relationship between Britain and Germany, the two most important and advanced European countries at the time and how each reacted to the most significant events of the era, specifically the Great War and the introduction of the modern mindset. What transpires is a thoughtful and intricate tale about life, love and war in which all three elements are generally fused together and the characters are forced to confront realities they hoped would never occur.

Much can be said about a film like this but it is often better to let the images and the characters speak for themselves. The Technicolor cinematography is stunning, a foreshadowing to future Powell and Pressburger achievements such as Black Narcissus and The Red Shoes. Using a colorful palette heightens the drama and accentuates the ideas being presented. Perhaps the most useful element of this film is its historical perspective of the first half of the 20th century: Britain and its traditional mind-frame is confronted by the sweeping, epic spiritualism of Germany, resulting in two world wars and a heap of other differences. This is, arguably, the face-off which has defined this century and will have a major impact on our future. Few, if any, films are as capable of capturing the magnitude and scope of these ideas as The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp.

I'd forgotten what a good film this was until I watched it on DVD recently. 'The Archers' had such an impressive body of work even a gem can be temporarily out of mind - such was the case with Colonel Blimp while I was catching up with all their other work.

There seem to be three performances approaching greatness in this - first of course, that of Livesey as Clive Wynne-Candy throughout his long service as a soldier to old age and 'Blimpishness', a superb portrayal and very memorable; then Anton Walbrook - brilliant in all his scenes as the sympathetic German who finally becomes reconciled to 'his wife's country'; and finally, in three roles, Deborah Kerr, standing for Candy's ideal woman. There'd be one more film for the Archers before Kerr became established in Hollywood, and she is excellent in her trio of roles in this.

Special mention should go not only to P&P for their tremendous vision and energy, but also the great Jack Cardiff who put such wit and clarity in sequences such as the animal head shots. The film itself is one of Britain's best. I'm amazed to hear it was suppressed in its entirety for so many years, and glad it survived to become the masterpiece it surely is.

"The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp" (1943) is a directorial masterpiece. It was the film in which Michael Powell finally fulfilled the promise that he had shown sporadically in his earlier films - in scenes such as Conrad Veidt's darkly comic encounter with a mountain-goat while trailing a bicycle up a cliff in "The Spy in Black" (1939); the opening shot of "Thief of Bagdad" (1940) as the camera tracks closer to Jaffar's ship and reveals a painted eye on the boat's prow; or in the eerie opening sequence of "One of Our Aircraft Is Missing" (1942), where, without a crew to guide it, a Wellington bomber, flying over the southern coast of Britain, suddenly smashes into a power line and implodes in a blazing white ball of flame. Here, in "Colonel Blimp," based on the stuffy, elitist character created by David Low, director Powell found a unifying style that encompassed the other-worldly vision that is sustained throughout the film's lengthy running time (2 hours, 43 minutes) - a style that is, at once, austere yet elegant; moody but curiously euphoric; hard at its core but sentimental around the edges.

As evidenced by the film's title, Pressburger's script does deal in a very generalized way with issues of Life and Death, but he carries his vision into the realm of the abstract, and he does so in circular fashion. More specifically, he explores a younger generation's brash, rebellious attitude towards their elders; and then examines how that attitude becomes more restrained, more conservative with the passage of time - until, as that generation ages, they become so "traditional" that, in the end, when their notions of honor and ethics have become obsolete in relation to the dominant society, they abstain from collaborating with community and, in a sense, they cease to really exist at all. And in the end, Death is all there is.

In keeping with Pressburger's theme, the film is structured in circular fashion, beginning in 1943, flashing back to 1903 and progressing all the way up to 1943 again, where it ends: Life as a universal loop, so to speak. Pictorially, the movie begins with an image of speed - British military messengers motorcycling across the English highways to their respective units with orders regarding war-game maneuvers. But the film ends with a sharply contrasting image - a yellowish-brown leaf floating down a small waterway, its slowness of passage suggesting a funeral dirge and procession.

The story's main concern is of the deep friendship and camaraderie between the film's hero, Major John Candy, V. C. (Roger Livesey), and German Lieutenant Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook), who meet one another as participants in a duel that has been arranged for the two in order to solve a peacetime diplomatic dispute. Afterwards, while nursing their wounds in a hospital, they become close friends - so much so that when it is discovered that they are unacknowledged suitors to the same girl, an English governess (one of three women played by Deborah Kerr), there is no dispute whatsoever: a coy suggestion by the filmmakers that two individuals can often solve disputes more efficiently than two nations. There is a temporary row between Candy and Theo at the end of the First World War, as indeed there can be little other than animosity between two uneasy nation/signatories of a peace treaty. But 20 years later, when Theo flees Nazi Germany and begs political asylum in England, it is Candy (now a general) who gladly uses his enormous influence to save Theo from either internment or deportation. This last episode is particularly affecting: Theo recites for British immigration officials a long, sad story of his life from 1919 on, relating the death of his wife and the indoctrination of his sons into the Hitler Youth.

From there, the film completes its flashback "loop" to 1943, where we witness Candy's old-fashioned Victorian adherence to "good sportsmanship" - his single failing as a military tactician and leader - that costs his Home Guard unit a war-games competition. David Low sought to satirize the Blimp character as a ridiculous facsimile of grandiose pomposity; Powell and Pressburger, however, seek to humanize him by tracing the process that finally made "Colonel Blimp" what he was, at least externally. Roger Livesey's performance is an outstanding, sympathetic tour-de-force - he was one of the most transparently gifted film actors of his generation. And Deborah Kerr's triple-performance confirmed her stardom for decades to come.

Powell references one of his favorite films "The Wizard of Oz" (1939) throughout - even down to the naming of Candy's aunt as the Lady Margaret Hamilton. Candy is referred to as "the Wizard" by his driver's fiancée, even while humming and dancing to the tune "We're Off to See the Wizard." (Three years later, Powell would use "Oz's" technique of alternating between monochrome and Technicolor for his fantasy, "A Matter of Life and Death.")