Ein Zug für zwei Halunken

The credits of Aldrich's Emperor of the North don't mention the fact that it is an adaptation of Jack London's story 'The Road'.

The Road is a long short story/short novel, based on London's own experiences as a young man, riding the rails as a hobo. Most importantly, the central conflict between Borgnine's Shack and Marvin's A Number One, and the methods both use to overcome their enemy are very closely based on the Jack London story, in which a group of hobo's set out to ride the train on which a particularly brutal shack, or railway guard works.

When I first saw this movie, it was released as "Emperor of the North", although some of the early promos added "Pole' to the title. Since the top hobo of the old days was "Emperor of the North Pole", I assumed the studio wasn't sure if the average viewer would get the title. The literary character of A-number One, is based on a legendary hobo from the turn of the century, who was possibly real, as his graffiti 'A-1', or A-No-1, appeared regularly on water towers and bridges along the rails all over the USA. This film really gets the feel of a depression-era USA, and the conflict between Marvin and Borgnine is visceral and cunning, and the scene with the near-miss of the oncoming train has great tension. Carridine is great as a blowhard punk who might grow up to be something. This flick has an almost religious overtone of good versus evil. It also has a good feel for railroading, kinda like ""The Train"

For you teenagers out there, or parents of teenagers who have expressed a desire to run away from home and ride the rails, this movie is the perfect antidote. Anyone who sees this film you will never even consider hopping on a boxcar again. Directed by Robert Aldrich, and bearing his unmistakable anarchist's stamp, it tells the story of two hoboes, one, A-1, played by Lee Marvin, a seasoned, lone wolf, and the other, Cigaret (Keith Carradine), a young boaster who tags along for the rides, and forever tries to convince his friend and mentor that he is in the same league with him in the art of hobodom, and maybe even better. The story revolves around the attempt of both men to ride the Number 19, a train lorded over by vicious railroadman Shack (Ernest Borgnine), who is known for despising hoboes, and for attacking them with hammer and chains! Director Robert Aldrich works wonders with this tall tale, some of it based on true stories. His fondness for improbable material is evident here, as once again he shows himself fascinated by the seemingly impossible task. Aldrich has a real feeling for what one might call WASP schmaltz, and he pours it on like ketchup on a Big Mac. He obviously loves railraods, old railroad uniforms, tramps, the Pacific Northwest, junkyards and the great outdoors generally, all copiously present here, aided in no small measure by Joe Biroc's lyrical photography.

The Emperor Of the North Pole is more character study than story. Marvin's character of A-1 is independent, shrewd and ethically minded, with a great sense of style. For him, being a hobo is almost a calling, and his acceptance by his fellow tramps constitutes a kind of knighthood, a status he guards jeaously. His opposite number, Shack, is a sadistic company man who relishes lording over others with a big stick, sometimes literally. To call him a type A personality would be a gross understatement. Unlike A-1, Shack has no sense of style; indeed, he doesn't even seem to own his personality. The railroad does. Cigaret is a kid, with a big ego and even bigger mouth who loves to tell stories about his exploits, none of them true. He fools no one, least of all A-1, who tries to teach him a thing or two, with only middling success. The clashing of these three personalities constitutes the bulk of the film, and is basically what it is about.

I sense that Aldrich, and screenwriter Christopher Knopf, were aiming for a larger than life effect, and that they were trying to create a sort of Great American Myth, like Paul Bunyan or Johnny Appleseed. They only partially succeed at this. Though Knopf's dialogue is at times excellent, the movie's realism works against its mythic qualities, and there's too much swearing. There's too much of a weary, real life-battered aspect to the characters for them to rise to iconic stature. Also, Cigaret's volubility is often obnoxious, and he seems to be saying the same things, again and again; and though Carradine plays him well enough, he comes across as too middle class and at times too delicate for the role. The action scenes on the other hand, are brilliantly done, and the climactic fight at the end is well worth the wait.

This is the kind of story that Tom Wolfe might have written. It's about what he would have called a "status-sphere" and ordinary sociologists would have called a subculture. It's about competition within a limited environment, about acquiring status, about working your way up the ladder of prestige within a particular specialized structure by means of courage, skill, and strategy. Only instead of the wild blue yonder, or landing on the heaving deck of an aircraft carrier, or NASCAR racing, the thing to be conquered here is Ernest Borgnine, the sadistic conductor who chuckles as he throws hobos off his train, sometimes to their deaths, kind of redoing his Fatso Judson number, so evil that if he did not exist it would be necessary to prevent him.

It's a classical subculture in that it has all the features of a closed world with its own values. Everyone seems to know everyone else. And, as in most subcultures, including those that used to be called "primitive societies," the initiate is given a new name. In other movies exploring such subcultures they may have names like "Fast Eddy," "Minnesota Fats," "Maverick," "Dragstrip," "Charlie the Gent." Here they have names like "A Number 1" (Lee Marvin), "Cigaret" (Keith Carradine), and "Shack" (Borgnine). They even had their own written language, a set of pictographs scratched into rocks or written in dirt, conveying messages like, "This family good for a free meal," or , "Work for a meal," or, "Stay away. Cops." There were small communities of hobos, often carved out of track-side garbage dumps.

Interesting cast, by the way, a lot of familiar faces in bit parts -- Simon Oakland, Elija Cook Jr.

Makeup and Wardrobe Departments have done a fine job of turning them into 'Bos. They don't look Hollywood dirty, with a few smears of mud. They just look dirty. Their clothing is filthy. All in all, a good delousing looks called for. Marvin's face, by the time this was released, looked just beat-up enough, and from life, not booze. And check out his decaying lower incisors.

The plot has to do with a duel of wits between Marvin, who is determined to demonstrate his skill at the top of the status ziggurat by riding Borgnine's train to Porland, OR. Borgnine, much to the puzzlement of the rest of the train crew, is obsessed with keeping his freight train clean of hitch-hikers. He's fiendishly clever in smoking out and hurting riders. Carradine is the kind of youth often called "callow." He brags a lot and is brave but, alas, is unable to absorb the rules of the game because he plays for reasons of self aggrandizement, not for the team. He winds up in the drink.

There's something else about this movie that may keep a viewer interested. It takes place during the depression. The trains are slow, fed by coal, and powered by steam. They rock back and forth gently, as if trying to put a passenger or a stowaway to sleep. And they travel through a sunny evergreen wilderness in the Northwest. It's the kind of scenic journey you now have to pay for if you want to make a round trip to San Juan, CO. What was in the 1930s essential to a certain kind of existence has now been vulgarized and turned into a tourist's delight.

It's a small story about small people. There is nothing epic about it. The score seems to owe something to Burt Bacharach, who was so successful a few years earlier with "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid." And, for my taste, there are one or two too many choker close-ups filling the screen with monstrous teeth and sweaty flesh. But it's hard to ignore the movie. You'll probably want to find out what happens next.

The 1970's were known for gritty, sometimes violent movies about cops and criminals (You may remember classics like Serpico, The French Connection, Dog Day Afternoon, the 7 Ups, The Dirty Harry movies). There were a few exceptions dealing with depression-era subjects (Bonnie & Clyde, The Last Picture Show, Paper Moon, Days of Heaven) and this mostly unknown and unsung masterpiece with the confusing title.

I was just a teenager when this movie was released in theatres. (There were no DVD's or VHS home releases back then). I caught just a few brief commercial promos on TV advertising "Emperor of the North Pole" and from that moment, I was hooked and had to see it. Then, in the flash of a weekend passing it was gone, yanked from the schedule at the local theatre. Perhaps it was considered too brutish in its violence or perhaps the misleading title "Emperor of the North Pole" kept audiences out of the theatre. There was further confusion for years afterwards when the reissue title came out as "Emperor of the North".

I never did get to see it way back when, but it stayed in my memory and thankfully in the era of satellite dishes and 24 hour movie channels, it lives again for the world to see in all its glory.

For those who love steam engine trains, this movie, (along with "The Train" and "Danger Lights") is an absolute must see. Director Robert Aldrich having completed the acclaimed and commercially successful "The Dirty Dozen" just 6 years earlier had the resources, the artistic courage, and the benefit of working with two veteran Dirty Dozen actors (Lee Marvin & Ernest Borgnine)who just lock-on to their respective characters with perfection.

The casting of this movie, (especially the minor roles of all the bo's and the railroad men) is superb. The cinematography is also fantastic and not only captures the beauty of Oregon, but a sense of the time and place of a depression-era story. Even the changing Oregon weather (alternating rainy-foggy days, with bright sunshine, is depicted accurately). The viewer can actually feel the cold of the soaking rain as the two hobos ride the passenger car. The frequent violence is brutal but a necessary part of the tale.

As for the story itself, the hobo's speak their own language in a kind of closed-society lyrical tongue that seems to be partially inspired by the depression era paintings of Thomas Hart Benton. It's not Shakespeare, but half the fun is trying to figure out what they are saying.

The music track, although it mostly works for the movie, seems oddly out-of-place with the period depicted, as it has a definite 1960's elevator-beautiful music component, at times. Not that this takes away anything from the movie, however. Similar, out-of-the-era music exists in great movies like, The Sting, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and Ryan's Daughter.

Even the effects soundtrack is a masterpiece of tight editing that greatly adds to the enjoyment of the movie. Listen to the whistle blowing of the opposing "mail train" slowly growing in intensity during the scene where the two trains are highballing it to a full head-on crash. Certainly one of the most frightening moments of any "train" picture. This is film-making at its best.

Also appreciated... a subtle moment when a passenger train is pulling into the station and the viewer hears (but does not see) what might be typical comments from the passengers from a 1930's-era train. "The train only stops for a few minutes"..."I think I'll buy a newspaper", etc.

Emperor of the North Pole is great movie and an absolute must see if you are a fan of vintage railroading, Lee Marvin, Ernest Borgnine, Robert Aldrich, or Keith Carradine. You won't be disappointed!