University of Virginia Library

CINEMA

Swashbuckling Action But No Feeling

By Ken Barry

There are certain movie subjects
that, once chosen, obligate its
producers to create a "quality"
motion picture, You can, of course,
call your flick "Beach Blanket Mah
Jong" or "The Gene Krupa Story,"
back it up with a lousy production,
and show it at drive-ins, where
nobody cares what's on the screen
anyhow. But when you call your
picture. "The Ten Commandments,"
say, or "Waterloo," you
expose yourself to audiences that
expect a lot. At the very least, they
want impressive photography,
memorable characterizations, and
an imaginative and credible
rendition of the era or culture it
aims to recreate.

Epoch-Making

Italian and Soviet filmmakers
joined hands to produce
"Waterloo" — acclaiming, with the
piercing blast of a field bugle, that
the event (the movie, not the
battle) was epoch-making. "The
biggest movie production in the
history of motion pictures!" the
publicity trumpets; "An all-star
international cast!" Well, Rod
Steiger and Christopher Plummer
are featured, as Napoleon and
Wellington; and it is very likely
Orson Welles that grumbles a
half-dozen lines as Louis XVIII.
After that, international stars are a
little difficult to pick out, although
the cavalry horses may well be
Arabian.

The production is big — big on a
scale the Hollywood studios, which
have a few too many Waterloos
fresh in their own memory,
wouldn't dare attempt in these
hand-to-mouth days. But big isn't
necessarily good. "Waterloo" has
big quality in only one respect, in
cinematography. We witness a
splendid, gorgeous battle begotten
of the antique concept that
aesthetics are at least as important a
part of warfare as logistics. And so
a panorama of color and motion is
stretched across the screen; scads of
infantry in French blue and British
red, Scots bagpipers in kilts and
bonnets, cannon belching scarlet
lightning and grey-black thunder,
lancers on swift white steeds — all
the martial romance that made
female hearts flutter and breasts
strain under corsets; indeed there is
an elegant scene of fluttering hearts
and straining corsets at a Brussels
ball on the battle's eve.

Authenticity

The clash itself is staged with
marvelous authenticity. Director
Sergei Bondarchuk marches
swarming waves of troops over the
rolling countryside in thrilling
charges and staunch defenses that
evoke with convincing power the
awful glory of war. Bondarchuk,
one begins to think, missed his
calling; he should have been a
nineteenth-century general instead
of a twentieth-century director.

Human Drama

And there the trouble lies. We
expect of an epic-sized picture
more than just great visual effects.
We look for sweeping human drama
to complement the photography,
the sort of scope we get in a "Ben
Hur" or a "Doctor Zhivago." We
want something for the mind as
well as the eye. The "story" behind
"Waterloo" is almost comically
unsophisticated and insipid. Making
a great moment of history into a
movie opens fascinating vistas of
speculation for a scriptwriter: What
did Napoleon say when he woke up
on the morning of battle?; What
were Wellington's first words when
victory was secure? But the verbal
imagination of "Waterloo" is sadly
unequal to the moment; the drama
flounders when it should soar.
Dialogue is flat and punchless much
of the time, and a difficult-to-follow
soundtrack makes the
dramatic dimension that much
worse. A hurried pace hustles us
through all-important scenes that
should build up an historical
context; scenes announce, for
example, "Here is Napoleon,
planning his offensive," but don't
register any more than the bald
statement. Subtitles would have
done as well as these excuses for
dramatic preparation.

Given only skeletal creatures to
portray, the actors cannot present
fleshed-out characterizations. Rod
Steiger will not be remembered —
hopefully — for his Napoleon. The
part is a caricature, and Steiger is
unable to give it depth — perhaps
no one could. Christopher Plummer
did better with a less awkward role.
Wellington is conceived as an
aristocratic hero with an
inexhaustible fund of charm and
wit — a beauty to oppose the
Napoleonic beast. Plummer ably
captures the swashbuckling spirit of
a bygone cinematic age and helps us

forget that the "real Wellington" is
as far away as the history books.

More Than Killing

In the good old days, the gang
on the block used to rate a war
flick by the quantity of action,
shooting, killing, etc. The other
stuff got in the way, bogged things
down. By our old standards,
"Waterloo" would rank very high.
But if your interest runs to
interpretations of history and its
personalities, as well as the great
actions themselves, you won't be
very impressed.

(Now at the Paramount)