Colonel Blimp

Neither war films nor romances rate amongst my favourite film genres. Colonel Blimp is both of these and has to rate as my runaway favourite film. Made in 1943 by the irreplaceable icons of British film making Powell and Pressburger it displays a pacy breathless brilliance since unparalleled on the big screen.

The film follows the life and times of General Wynne-Candy from when he is an idealistic young officer returned on leave from the Boer War through to his retirement as an anachronistic and obdurate Major General.

The film is structured in three acts set in the aftermath of the Boer War, the first world war and the present (at the time of making the film) the height of the 2nd World War. But it is not just an examination of these conflicts. Its real power lies in Candy's pursuit of his ideal woman throughout each of these stages. All three women are played beautifully by Deborah Kerr who never surpassed the power of her performance in this film.

The other constant in the film is Anton Wallbrooks character of the sympathetic German with whom Candy builds a lifelong friendship and ultimately is probably Candy's only ever really satisfying relationship throughout his life.

For me the film operates on many complex levels. The romantic element is as affecting as anything you are likely to witness in the cinema. It achieves everything in the unrequited love department a la "the remains of the day" in a fraction of the time and as only part of the overall plot.

It deals with the moral complexities of war in a way that will have you debating the issues in your mind long after you have seen the film. This particular theme reaches its climax towards the end of the film when Candy is "retired" by the war ministry probably as a result of his outdated approach to strategy for the 2nd World War. Anton Wallbrook then delivers a setpiece speech which starkly outlines the evils of Nazism and the necessity to use any means to defeat it for the sake of freedom and humanity for coming generations.

Colonel Blimp with its pristine performances, absorbing plot, dazzling colour photography and economic flawless script easily gives Citizen Kane a good run for its money as the best film of all time.

Once in a while, I see a film I wished I'd seen before. This movie is one of those. It was a complete and total surprise. I'd heard of it, but never anything definitive. It is simply one of the greatest films I ever saw. From the first shot to the closing credits, it was wonderfully acted, beautifully photographed, and superbly directed. Everything worked: the music was effective, the costumes and makeup were perfect.

Roger Livesay and Deborah Kerr, in particular, shone beautifully. There was a chemistry between them that was especially magical during the early years. Livesay aged well, not just in the way he looked, but in the way he acted. He gave the impression that as an actor, he understood that generals always fight the previous war, and his General Candy felt, by films end, exactly that sort of general.

I recommend this movie without qualification to anyone who appreciates the art of moviemaking, and the pleasures of watching.

Forget what another reviewer said here about being "shallow and lacking in emotional content" and full of "stock characters", as nothing could be further from the truth. This is one of the finest British films ever made.

It may mock the old reactionary Blimp (who pretty much is Churchill) but it does so with deep sympathy for his passing age of fair play. And its message that Britain must fight a realistic war was a great bit of intelligent and patriotic propaganda. By opposing it Churchill underestimated the intelligence of the British people.

Roger Livesey's and Anton Walbrook's performances are both fantastic, and the film contains two drop-dead emotional moments: Walbrook's single shot speech about leaving Germany, and Livesey's final lines as the film ends.

And any film which has a character called Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff MUST be good.

Clive Candy (Roger Livesey), a British army officer, wins a Victoria Cross in South Africa, fights a duel in Berlin in 1902, acquires a lifelong friend and his lifelong love for a woman (or women), commands in Flanders in the Great War and brings the experience of a lifetime's service to the Second World War.

It is soon apparent that this fine film portrays a Colonel Blimp very different from David Low's jingoistic and hidebound comic strip character. Here, Candy is a sympathetic figure from the start; firm in his principles, certainly, but courteous and sensitive with those whom he respects - indeed, how could Livesey not appear as a sympathetic character: it seems to be in his very nature. The film is clever and deceptive in its structure. The action is framed by the opening WWII exercise, in which the "invaders" capture the elderly General Wynne-Candy. These scenes are repeated and elaborated at the end of the film, where the effect of the exercise in demonstrating the obsolescence of Candy's values becomes clear and when he makes clear his great stature in embracing the uncongenial reality that confronts him. Within this frame, the story of Candy's life is told, and here is the greater deception, for, at the beginning, it seems like a straightforward romantic comedy, perhaps even disappointing in its lack of ideas. Then, after the Armistice, the mood changes, becomes philosophical, as the nature of loyalty and friendship, of love and patriotism are explored.

Representatives of the British establishment, assembled around a dinner table, assert their resolve to see Germany rebuilt in a fair peace. Credulity is strained here, when one recalls the oppressive reality and disastrous consequences of the Versailles Treaty. Yet the principles are praiseworthy and would be reflected in the settlement after WWII. The two defining moments of the film are both given to Candy's long-time friend, the German uhlan officer, Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook). He delivers two set-piece speeches, one explaining why he had abandoned Germany for England in 1935, the second a manifesto for the survival of a democracy in total war. They, like the rest of his performance, are given impeccably and, with their quiet delivery by a German character, intensely moving.

Deborah Kerr, lovely yet brimming with personality, plays superbly her three roles, each a woman Candy loves at different stages in his career and, incidentally, disclosing his character as socially democratic, unlikely but attractive none the less. Kerr succeeds in subtly differentiating each role, whilst revealing the characteristics that were bound to attract Candy. Both Walbrook and Livesey give outstanding performances, despite ageing forty years, a process Kerr avoids. John Laurie, as Murdoch, Candy's batman, has a less outrageous role than those usually assigned to this fine character actor. Alfred Junge presents his usual excellent design, taking full advantage of Technicolor.

This film was, supposedly, produced in 1943 as British propaganda. It is noteworthy that even Churchill could not suppress exhibition of this film when he was concerned at its message. That message embraces loyalty and steadfastness, honesty, democracy, realism and fairness. It is about the importance of relationships that transcend nationality. It is about love, between woman and man, and as a general concept. It is about being resolute and pragmatic in conflict and generous in victory. It recognizes the value of individuals beyond the categories in which they find themselves. If this film can be represented as British propaganda, then no-one need be ashamed to be British.

This film transcends its format and, perhaps, the intentions with which it was produced. It is another wonderful surprise from the Archers which everyone should see.

I'd forgotten what a good film this was until I watched it on DVD recently. 'The Archers' had such an impressive body of work even a gem can be temporarily out of mind - such was the case with Colonel Blimp while I was catching up with all their other work.

There seem to be three performances approaching greatness in this - first of course, that of Livesey as Clive Wynne-Candy throughout his long service as a soldier to old age and 'Blimpishness', a superb portrayal and very memorable; then Anton Walbrook - brilliant in all his scenes as the sympathetic German who finally becomes reconciled to 'his wife's country'; and finally, in three roles, Deborah Kerr, standing for Candy's ideal woman. There'd be one more film for the Archers before Kerr became established in Hollywood, and she is excellent in her trio of roles in this.

Special mention should go not only to P&P for their tremendous vision and energy, but also the great Jack Cardiff who put such wit and clarity in sequences such as the animal head shots. The film itself is one of Britain's best. I'm amazed to hear it was suppressed in its entirety for so many years, and glad it survived to become the masterpiece it surely is.