J'étais un prisonnier

The prison camp is, in many ways, a metaphor for wartime Britain and its postwar hopes and aspirations. 'All sorts and conditions of men' are herded together in the camp, and despite the underlying tension, the boredom, and the self doubts, they must try and get along with each other. Indeed, it goes far deeper than that - they must try and look out for each other and protect each other.

And so they encourage the blind lad in his efforts to learn brail and come to terms with his blindness. A young 'tearaway' (a pre-war thief)comes to realise that even he has something to contribute. As the others try and think up a way of protecting the identity of a Czech hiding amongst them, he confesses that he knows how to open a safe, and can break into the orderly office and destroy the incriminating evidence.

There are little touches of humanity in terrible situations. The order is issued to manacle the prisoners as a reprisal for some Allied slight (this actually happened), and the elderly German reservist guard tries to indicate to the blind prisoner that he is only 'obeying orders' and doesn't want to do it. The invalid wife of a prisoner is told, back in England, that it is too risky to have her husbands baby, but she sacrifices herself in the hope that he will have a child to come home too. The blind lad tries to put off his girlfriend because he doesn't want to be a burden to her.

Some people find the main plot line a little contrived, but it is fascinating to see two strangers fall in love through a pretence.

And so wartime Britain entered the postwar world with all its hopes and fears. Sadly, with no visible common enemy to unite them, many of these hopes of a common caring humanity were not to be realised.

Having assumed the identity of a deceased British soldier to avoid being sent to back to a concentration camp, a Czech civilian winds up at a prisoner-of-war camp where he must convince his suspicious inmates that he is not a German mole in this Ealing Studios drama. Often regarded as the first World War II P.O.W. movie, filmed in actual German locations, 'The Captive Heart' has a lot of interest to it. The screenplay is not without its flaws. The protagonist convinces the Brits of his true identity a little too quickly for credibility. There are also far too many subplots in the mix, with only Gordon Jackson as a blinded officer of any interest; the rest of the characters are bland and the episodic structure subtracts from the immediacy of the protagonist's ordeal. Michael Redgrave is superb in the lead role though with everything he has to endure, even allowing his hand to be smashed in a heart-wrenching scene in order to be able to explain the difference in his handwriting when writing letters to the wife of the soldier whose identity he took. In fact, this one of the major narrative strands of the movie with personal identity issues briefly arising as Redgrave finds that he has to fake correspondence "home" to avoid the Germans catching onto his real identity. Add in some luscious, mobile cinematography from Douglas Slocombe (note the gradual zooms-in as Jackson's bandages are removed and the exterior shots that track and pan over the soldiers at attention) and 'The Captive Heart' is a film with a lot to like about it, imperfect as it may be.

Having read a lukewarm review of "The Captive Heart" in Time Out (my cinema bible) and thinking, "They're bound to trash this one," I leaped to the IMDb reviews ready to play my "champion of the turkey" role. What a pleasurable surprise to find it not needed, that I am indeed at one with sympathetic users and critics alike in admiration for this rather special offering from the Ealing archive. Whereas the comedies from the West London studios are still admired with affection, their more serious fare tends to be overlooked. "The Captive Heart" is something of a forgotten treasure, a tribute in the wake of victory, to our gallant servicemen who spent much of the second world war as prisoners in German camps. It's another team piece in the mode of Carol Reed's better known "The Way Ahead" which takes a cross section of class types and closely observes their behaviour as they share an enforced coming together. It's all very stereotypical but if treated with sincerity, as in both films, a measure of character cliché can be forgiven. If the level of acting is fairly mediocre, particularly some of the women with those period prissy upper class accents, one part, that of Michael Redgrave as a Czech who has assumed the role of an English soldier killed in battle to escape being identified by the Germans, stands out for its quality. Where the film really scores is in its reminder of a time when people were really nice to one another particularly when brought together in adversity. Everyone mucks in to help, from comforting the young soldier when first confronted with the permanence of his lack of sight to the initially unsympathetic character who gives up his chance of repatriation to aid one who needs it more, welcome reminders of an age when it was generally normal rather than exceptional to emerge from the cinema feeling good.

This is an immensely sensitive and very moving film about British POWs rounded up by the Germans at Dunkerque (Dunkirk) in 1940 and marched 220 miles to be interned for the rest of the War in a German POW camp. The film is half about them and half about their lives and loves back home, utilising flashbacks as well as real time events intercut with the men in the camp. The technique is carried out so well that it is highly effective and never seems forced. Much of the film was made in Germany, including the reconstruction of the POW camp. The film aimed for absolute authenticity, and was made with the passion and intensity which was perhaps only possible in the year immediately following the War, when all the issues raised were at their peak of relevance, both to the people making the film and the viewing public. The film is full of wonderful, sensitive and deeply-felt performances. They all really put their hearts into it, and it shows. For instance, rarely can the character actor Mervyn John have embodied such pathos. And the intensity of emotion conveyed by both Rachel Kempson and Jane Barrett is remarkable. Barrett died tragically young at the age of only 46, in 1969, having worked a great deal in television but never obtained the quality roles worthy of her in feature films. Thus she is little known today, but this film shows her qualities admirably. This was one of director Basil Dearden's finest films. He made it immediately after his two episodes of DEAD OF NIGHT (1946), and three years later he directed two episodes of the wonderful classic, TRAIN OF EVENTS (1949, see my review), one of which also dealt with prisoners of war. (The ironical thing is that Dearden made films all through the War and was not in the services, so had no military experience.) It is apparently in this film that Dearden's long professional association with Michael Relph commenced. Relph was both Associate Producer and Art Director on this film. Later he would produce most of Dearden's films. The lead role in this film is played by Michael Redgrave. He had already been married to Rachel Kempson for eleven years when they played in this film together. Redgrave plays a Czech soldier who has escaped from Dachau and is being hunted by the Germans. He speaks perfect English and indeed has been Professor of English at Prague University. He comes across the dead body of Captain Geoffrey Mitchell, a British officer, and takes his identity and uniform, is captured by the Germans and sent to the POW camp as an Englishman. The real Mitchell had been estranged from his wife (played by Rachel Kempson). Redgrave is forced to engage in correspondence with his 'wife' in order to convince the Germans that he is not an impostor. He smashes his right hand so that he is forced to write with his left, as a way of excusing the change of hand-writing to his 'wife'. They then exchange increasingly passionate letters to one another over the years, leading to an awkward situation when the War finally nears its end and Redgrave is 'repatriated' to England as Captain Mitchell. There are wonderful character parts for Gordon Jackson, Jack Warner, Gladys Henson, and others. Derek Bond is excellent as a sensitive concert pianist, Lieutenant Harley. The following year he was to make a big hit as Nicholas Nickleby in the film of that (1947). He never achieved lasting star status, and died as recently as 2006 after appearing in 67 titles. This film, done with such passion and integrity, is a classic of the time, and makes compulsive viewing today considering what it conveys of historical importance, of the manners, situations, and modes of feeling of that period.

This is a deeply human and almost documentary account of the life of prisoners after Dunkirk who are not released until towards the end of the war, Michael Redgrave as the leading actor being far from alone among suffering fellow soldiers, as there is a number of tales told of dire destiny in this concentration camp of arduous fates. Redgrave is of course the most interesting case, a Czech escaped from the Germans and sought by Gestapo, hiding as an Englishman with a fake identity with suspiciously good knowledge of German, as his father was a diplomat in both London and Berlin. There is also Gordon Jackson with the loss of his sight and his despair about having to give up his betrothed, there is the family man whose wife is having a baby in his absence with that whole family story, there is the major (Basil Radford) struggling with the challenges of his responsibility, there are the sore trials used by the Germans make the camp existence more difficult than necessary for the prisoners, who nevertheless manage to break loose into comedy when an occasion arrives. It's heartrendingly human all the way, and the great love story developing in the ruins with inevitably critical consequences makes this film a definite and almost obligatory classic.