Gli invasori

Although 49th Parallel was conceived as a wartime propaganda film, and is predictably heavy-handed in places, it is more often surprisingly subtle and ambivalent. Michael Powell's creativity, individuality and directorial skill lift the film above the standard flag-waving banality which might be expected from the genre.

Although the general point of the film, particularly aimed at the Americans, is that the Nazis are evil and should be opposed, Nazis are in fact the central characters, and it could be argued that Lt. Hirth (Eric Portman) is the hero. Although he is clearly not a nice person and displays many of the cliched trappings of the stereotypical evil Nazi, he is portrayed sympathetically in some ways. It is possible to sympathise with him and his men because they are lost and alone in a foreign country which they cannot comprehend and where no-one can comprehend them. The war is shown not as a simple battle between absolute good and absolute evil, but as a clash of cultures. Hirth belongs to a German tradition of loyalty, obedience and service to the state which is much older than Hitler. He genuinely cannot understand the concepts of democracy, liberalism and individualism, and is completely bewildered by the lifestyle of the Hutterite community, asking not only "who is your leader?" but "what's the salute?". He is an idealist who believes that he and the rest of the Nazis know what is best for everyone. In Powell's view, the war is not just about democracy against dictatorship, but also liberalism against authoritarianism, individualism against conformity and, above all, pragmatism against idealism.

The way the conflict is illustrated through the German sailors' encounters with diverse Canadians is subtle, intelligent and highly effective. The Canadians are not portrayed as heroes. They have very human failings. They are mostly complacent, ignorant, and hypocritical. They try to bury their heads in the sand and pretend the war isn't happening until they are forced to make a decision by their unexpected encounters with Hirth and his men. Johnny, the French-Canadian fur trapper (Laurence Olivier, horribly miscast), comes across as arrogant and obnoxious, and seemingly has little interest in the war. Scott (Leslie Howard) is appallingly smug, hypocritical and self-absorbed, avoiding involvement in the war by retreating to the Rocky Mountains. Although he is fashionably disdainful of the Nazi leaders, he is unmoved by what they have done in Europe. He is only shaken out of his complacency when the Germans vandalise his books and paintings! Significantly, Hirth crows that " we kicked him out of the Reich years ago" as he burns Thomas Mann's latest book. Scott must have been aware of the sufferings of Thomas Mann and others in Nazi Germany, but felt no need to do anything about it.

The overall result is that although the individual Canadians are not heroic, they eventually make up their minds and join the fight against Nazism (as Powell hoped the Americans would). They each have their own reasons for this, reasons which are often selfish, ambiguous and prosaic. In this, they are the antithesis of the disciplined and idealistic Hirth. It is made clear that those who oppose the Nazis are not merely fighting out of blind loyalty to their countries, but nor are they fighting for any abstract ideal. Democracy is not portrayed as an ideal, but as a pragmatic solution: the worst system apart from all the others. The liberal democratic society of the western world is shown up as a mess, but it is a reasonably happy mess. It is superior to the nightmare of Nazi Germany precisely because it is pragmatic, flexible and individualistic. People are free to live their lives as they choose without an authoritarian government telling them what is best for them. For these reasons, 49th Parallel has an enduring resonance.

Vogel's defection to the Hutterites emphasises the humanity of the Germans and the fact that they were not all enthusiastic Nazis. But ironically, in leaving the Nazis, Vogel loses his sense of duty and becomes as hypocritical and self-obsessed as the Canadians. Although Vogel is not sympathetic to the Nazi cause and shows remorse for his involvement with it, he is not proposing to fight against it. He merely wants to hide from reality with the Hutterites and carry on baking bread, regardless of the outside world. His wish to go back to "how things used to be" is essentially the wish of an adult overwhelmed by reality to return to childhood. In this sense, as well as in the more literal military and legal senses, he is a deserter.

Overall, this is an exceptional film, despite some wooden acting and poor continuity, which gives the impression of drastic and ill-advised cuts. For example, in one scene the Germans are stealing a car, and in the next scene they are on a train, with no clue given as to what happened in between. It is not properly explained how the remaining two escaped from the crowd in Banff, and it seems far too easy for Hirth to get on to a plane and fly to Ontario. The scenery is magnificent (and magnificently shot) and the action is genuinely exciting, although the ending is completely absurd. 49th Parallel works as art and entertainment as well as propaganda, in contrast to Nazi films of the same era. The propaganda element is subtle and intelligent, making wider points which are still relevant today. The ultimate testament to the superiority of western liberal democracy is the fact that this film was made in the way it was and allowed to be shown. In an authoritarian dictatorship, Powell would most likely have been shot for treason for making a "propaganda" film so ambivalent and unflattering to the cause it was meant to promote. Narrow minded Nazis (like Hirth) would have been unable to grasp the deeper truths and humanist values at its heart.

This is an unusual film in many respects. It features splendid music by Vaughan-Williams, and in order to let the sections of music finish on the soundtrack rather than cut it off, we are often treated to extended montage sequences of the magnificence of the wild scenery of Canada, where the film is entirely set. (The 49th parallel is the border between Canada and the United States. In the USA, this film was released under the title 'The Invaders'.) The cinematographer was Freddie Young, whose work with the Indian tepee lighting effects shows his early promise with creative use of light. Camera operator was Skeets Kelly. Together, they did one bold 'avante garde' shot from a small boat as it rams ashore from a lake. This was very quickly cut away from, perhaps even too quickly, by the restless pace imposed by the editor, David Lean, who was soon to become a famous director. Numerous already famous people collaborated on this early wartime propaganda effort, which manages to be relatively light on propaganda and heavy on story. And a good story it is too, written and conceived by Romanian emigree Emeric Pressburger, for which he won a well-deserved Oscar. The film was ably directed by the always talented Michael Powell. The one stand-out bad performance is by Laurence Olivier, who wrongly imagined that he could play a French-Canadian outdoorsman. Despite showing his chest and acting hearty, he fails pathetically to pull this off, and his mechanical mouthing of the accent is far too laboured. He was so often his own worst enemy, by calculating rather than feeling his characters. The opposite is true of the delightful Lesley Howard, who creates a wonderful, eccentric and whimsical character of a vacationing scholar who is on the verge of becoming a Scarlet Pimpernel at any moment (he had made 'Pimpernel Smith' earlier the same year.). Niall MacGinnis is superb as a pathetically regretful Nazi who just wants to go back to being a baker and living a quiet life. Anton Walbrook is magnificent in his intensity as the leader of a pacifist religious sect, and he gets to deliver the best speech in the film. But the finest acting of all is by Eric Portman, who is absolutely terrifying as a fanatical Nazi blind to all reason. Glynis Johns makes an appearance as a fey young girl with a quavery voice, who gets a jibe in at the Nazis by overcoming her innate timidity. This was a very clever propaganda film, because its messages were deeply embedded in an ingenious story line. That story line is innovative and highly dramatic. A German submarine surfaces in Hudson Bay on the Atlantic Coast of Canada, during the period before America was in the War, but Canada, as a British colony, was already a combatant. Six men led by a lieutenant (played by Portman) go ashore in search of food and water supplies, but before they can go far, their submarine is sunk by aerial bombardment, leaving the six men stranded. The Canadian authorities are unaware that these six Nazi seamen are on the loose. The story then becomes the incredible odyssey of their journey across Canada, and the havoc they cause, as they try without food, water, or money to reach Vancouver on the Pacific Coast and take a ship to Japan. Naturally, lots of people get in their way and are killed. This whole project is very well pulled-off indeed, and makes exciting viewing even today.

Yes, it is (was) propaganda. But never has there been a more curiously right and true epitome of the sloppy yet resilient defense of transcontinental democracy than this. Canada wins because Canada is a mess; the Nazi neatness and demand for clear-cut lines falters, and in the end is clobbered with a roundhouse right. So long as I live, I will love this film; it's P&P at their best, and the Vaughan WIlliams score is second to none. What else can one say? I wish I were Canadian.

And since the IMDb, to which I contributed long before it became such a commercial concern, insists that I have at least 10 lines of text, I will keep on jabbering for a few more lines, in order to preserve the above comments for posteriority ...

Michael Powell and Emeric Pressberger's artistic collaboration at the start of WWII benefits from a powerhouse cast.

Clearly propaganda, the cast and crew apparently came from all parts of the world to lend their talents for a "mutual cause." With strains of Ralph Vaughn Williams's score woven into the cinematic fabric, Pressberger's elaborate story is expansive and involved.

The Oscar nominated film is worth watching, and it's interesting to see Raymond Massey's speech as a G.I. so very Yank-oriented, without a trace of the mannered style he later acquired. Leslie Howard is well cast as a poetic, philosophical dreamer. However, it's Anton Walbrook who really surprises with an uncharacteristic subtle naturalistic style.

This is apparently the project Elizabeth Bergner used to defect from Germany to the U.S., leaving the film for Hollywood (and Glynis Johns to take over the role). The actors playing Nazis are all quite strong.

You'd be tempted to think that there's no way '49th Parallel (1941)' could have turned out anything less than excellent. Not only do Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger perform their famous double-act, but there's also the equally-enviable partnership of David Lean (here working as editor) and cinematographer Freddie Young. But we must remember that in the realm of WWII propaganda there lie dangerous waters, and only the most talented filmmakers (so far, I count Hitchcock, Wilder, Renoir, Curtiz and Reed) can navigate their war-themed picture towards any degree of lasting respectability. We can certainly add Michael Powell to that list of famous names. '49th Parallel' is different from most of its contemporaries because it presents the film solely from the German point-of-view. The portrayal is not favourable, of course, and at least their commander reeks of pure evil, but the German characters are nonetheless humanised to no small extent. These aren't cold, immoral monsters, but ordinary people, swept up in euphoric Nazi ideology and pining for the simpler life they can barely remember.

When a German submarine is destroyed in Hudson Bay, Canada, the surviving Nazi soldiers – led by the fiercely patriotic Kommandant Bernsdorff (Richard George) – must navigate their way across the country into the then-neutral United States of America. The native citizens they meet along the way are largely jovial and laid-back, many hardly aware of the war raging across the Atlantic, and the Germans haughtily deem them foes unworthy of the Fuhrer's might. But these Canadians, as placid as they first seem, can surely recognise fascism when they see it, and each of the soldiers is picked off one by one, like the characters from a war-themed version of Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None." Among the unwitting local patriots is French-Canadian trapper Laurence Olivier – a caricature but an entertaining one – anthropologist/author Leslie Howard, and grinning deserter Raymond Massey, each of whom shows the Nazis that they're dealing with an enemy whose sheer spirit overshadows all of Hitler's armies combined.

The film was apparently intended as a tribute to Canada's involvement in the war, and perhaps – as was Hitchcock's 'Foreign Correspondent (1940)' – a call-to-arms for the then-isolationist United States, who would hold back until the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour in December 1941. Many of the film's characters remark upon the sheer remoteness of the war relative to their own lives, unaware that it is actually standing before them; this idea was almost certainly aimed at American audiences. After the brilliantly suspenseful first act at Hudson Bay, I initially felt that the film was going off track by continuing to follow the Germans after their aerial departure from the remote village. However, as time wore on, I began to appreciate what the film was aiming for. Though the snow-swept slopes around Hudson Bay may seem leagues away from the Canadian/American border, Kommandant Bernsdorff and his ever-dwindling band gradually progress their way south, until, not only does he reach the border, but he physically crosses into the United States. The War had never been closer.