University of Virginia Library

Premier Strikes Out

'Charge' Lacks True Direction

By Paul Larsen

"The Charge of the Light
Brigade" opened its American tour
last Sunday at the Fine. Arts
Theater in New York. On the
preceding Friday evening fifty
college editors met at the Preview
Theater on Broadway to view the
film at a pre-screening. In the letter
that served as an invitation, the
Madison Avenue public relations
firm (strike one) that sponsored the
showing promised to present in the
flesh Trevor Howard and David
Hemmings. Also included, as a

special enticement, was the
statement that Director Tony
Richardson "might also be there."
When we arrived at the theater, a
mini-skirted secretary was saddened
to inform us that Mr. Hemmings
got theater tickets and was unable
to come (strike two). However, we
were told, enjoy the film and
Trevor Howard will arrive at 9:30.
When the film ended it was
announced that Mr. Howard wasn't
able to make it either, but in place
we have producer Neil Hartley
(strike three).

If one was searching for the
epitome of the Hollywood
Producer, he would have to look no
further than Mr. Hartley. Clad in a
tailor-made suit from London, no
off-the-rack stuff for the producer
of "Tom Jones" thank you. Mr.
Hartley appeared before the crowd
in his sun-lamp tan and
oh-what-a-bore-you-are expression.
Constantly glancing at his watch, it
soon became obvious that a
glamorous starlet was awaiting
somewhere in Fun City for Mr.
Hartley to return, or perhaps it was
just a party with all the right people
that he was missing. In any case,
the impression was given that the
well-known, household word
producer would have been happier
to be any place else than baby
sitting a bunch of protest- minded,
violence-wielding college kids.

Fencing off all pertinent
questions with the politician's gift
of irrelevance and ambiguity, Mr.
Hartley went through several
cigarettes which he held between
his third and fourth fingers, the
smoke of which he exhaled with
the sound of high-velocity wind. By
the time the interview was over, Mr.
Hartley had displayed such a
knowledge of his film that it was
secretively questioned if perhaps
this might not have been the
producer's stunt man, standing in
while the real Mr. Hartley was out
cavorting about the city.

Sell-out Elements

Despite the disappointment of
never meeting either Mr. Howard or
Mr. Hemmings, the evening was not
entirely wasted. The movie contains
all the elements which make movies
box-office sell-outs — a
multi-million dollar budget, sex,
violence, comedy, love, satire,
murder, cartoons, fore, brutality,
perversion — and yet it really isn't a
bad film. It presents the best of the
British acting profession in Trevor
Howard, David Hemmings, Venessa
Redgrave, Sir John Gielgud, Harry
Andrews and Jill Bennet. It
demonstrates many moments of
imaginative and realistic
photography, and brilliantly
captures the ludicrousness and inanity
of waging war.

What plagues the film is perhaps
best described by the producer in
several of the questions he
answered:

"Well, then sir, would you say
your film is a satire?"

"No, not exactly?"

"Then is it a protest movie?"

"No, not really."

"Would you describe it as a
cast-of-thousands type
spectacular?"

"I don't think so."

"Then just how would you
characterize it?"

"I think it is a realistic view of
The Charge."

"Then you weren't really
attempting to offer anything else."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Just
exactly what the film was
attempting to offer in its entirety
was never concluded during the
interview, nor, I suspect, was it ever
really determined before or during
the filming. What "The Charge"
lacks is any true sense of direction.

Loses Continuity

The story begins in Britain with
the introduction of the principal
characters as a lavish wedding
reception and ball, where the topic
of war dominates conversation.
Suddenly the camera switches to
the filth and rubbish of London
ghetto life where the English Army
is recruiting soldiers. The viewer is
impressed with the camera work
and the obvious contrast of scenes
and life-styles, but from this point
on the film begins to lose
continuity.

Somewhere between the
preparations for war and the actual
battle, we are dragged through the
English countryside, army barracks,
the foreign office, the officers' mess
and Lord Cardigan's (Trevor
Howard) bedroom, for a
combination of love and sex and
fighting, and court-marshalling, and
arguing and drinking and eating and
laughing and on and on. This is fine
if any of the scenes or events add to
the total meaning of the picture,
but few of them do. After we are
let in on the love affair between
Captain Nolan (David Hemmings)
and Clarissa (Venessa Redgrave), we
are then moved to Turkey where
the gallant men trudge toward
battle. What happens to poor
Venessa, you might ask? No one
ever knows, not even Mr. Hartley,
who when asked just sort of
shrugged his shoulders. We do see
her once more, gamboling about
her country estate in the true
tradition of "Elvira Madigan." Just
why the affair was included
completely escapes me, but then sex
sells and they had to do something
with Venessa.

So Much For Etc.

So, so much for the love affair,
so much for the love and sex and
fighting etc. Once we leave
England, only the cast continues on
to Turkey, the plot and character
sketches are somewhere lost in the
transition and an entirely new story
begins, complete with more than
three thousand Turkish army men.

Although we are again put
through the paces of a little sex and
gore and brutality, this segment of
the film saves the entire picture
from boredom. The march to
Balaklava, the skirmish lead to the
final charge, and The Charge itself
are extremely well done and
illustrate the absurdity of it all.

David Hemmings plays Captain
Nolan with the flair and intelligence
and sensitivity which characterize
the army officer. He is the rebellious
one, more willing to do things
his way, the right and just way he
feels, and suffer the consequences
than to submit himself to the agony
of his Lord Cardiganvor Howard
portrays Lord, Cardigan as a boorish,
unintelligent Victorian officer who
has little regard for humanity and
no conception of war.

The movie is still playing at The
Fine Arts Theater before
reserved-seat audiences. If it is not a
satire, not a protest, not a
spectacular, then it perhaps can be
described as a two hour journey
into mediocrity, a story and theme
with great potential, a cast which is
incomparable, but a movie that
never quite makes it.