The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is one of the most complex and involving character studies in cinema history made even better by the fact that it also explores notions of order and historical perspectives. The central character, the jovial and loyal Clive Candy, is the representation of the old order of things: traditional British ideas of honor, commitment and playing by the rules. As the 20th century hurls forward, he and this mindset are confronted by sharply disagreeing ideas including modern warfare and Nazism.

Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger established themselves as the preeminent British filmmakers during World War II with this film and 49th Parallel. These two films are unique in that they combine both well-done craftsmanship and sophisticated ideas about the nature of politics and national relations. There is much talking about the relationship between Britain and Germany, the two most important and advanced European countries at the time and how each reacted to the most significant events of the era, specifically the Great War and the introduction of the modern mindset. What transpires is a thoughtful and intricate tale about life, love and war in which all three elements are generally fused together and the characters are forced to confront realities they hoped would never occur.

Much can be said about a film like this but it is often better to let the images and the characters speak for themselves. The Technicolor cinematography is stunning, a foreshadowing to future Powell and Pressburger achievements such as Black Narcissus and The Red Shoes. Using a colorful palette heightens the drama and accentuates the ideas being presented. Perhaps the most useful element of this film is its historical perspective of the first half of the 20th century: Britain and its traditional mind-frame is confronted by the sweeping, epic spiritualism of Germany, resulting in two world wars and a heap of other differences. This is, arguably, the face-off which has defined this century and will have a major impact on our future. Few, if any, films are as capable of capturing the magnitude and scope of these ideas as The Life and Death of 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.

Colonel Blimp started life as a satirical cartoon for the London Evening Standard by Sir David Low. An ageing, plump, pompous and eternally red-faced blowhard, Blimp was Low's idea of the militaristic upper-classes; the kind of chest-puffing Jingo who would voice his frequently contradictory declarations from a Turkish bath wearing nothing but a towel. At first, it would seem that Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is directly adapting the political cartoons, as the old man Colonel is rudely disturbed from his sleep in a Turkish bath by a group of youngsters who have arrived early for a planned war game, to declare that such chivalry in war will not be practised by the enemy. We then go back 40 years, and any hint of satire makes way for a story of romance, friendship, and growing old.

During the Boer War in 1902, the young Clive Candy (Roger Livesey) receives a letter from Edith Hunter (Deborah Kerr) in Berlin, who warns him that a known rogue named Kaunitz is spreading anti-British propaganda. Going against orders, Candy travels to Germany and ends up causing a scene by provoking Kaunitz. To settle matters, a duel is arranged with a randomly-chosen German officer, who turns out to be Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook). While recovering from their wounds in a military hospital, the two men hit it off and begin a friendship that will last for more than 40 years. Moving through the First and Second World Wars, we follow Candy as he rises through the military ranks, fails and succeeds in love, before finding himself an old man, greatly outdated and socially displaced.

It's astonishing that this film got made at all. On top of being rather experimental in terms of tone and narrative structure (it feels very much like the English equivalent of Citizen Kane), Colonel Blimp was shot in glorious - and expensive - Technicolor during wartime, running at almost three hours when most films wouldn't dare to push 100 minutes. Winston Churchill tried to ban it, believing it to be an anti-war propaganda piece poking fun at the idea of 'British-ness', when it is anything but. Instead, the film deliberately gives out mixed signals, lovingly embracing the idea of gentlemanly conduct during a bloody war, while pondering the necessity of brutality, especially when faced with an enemy who play like the Nazis did (and were doing at the time, of course). While British propaganda was making sure to send a clear and strong message about the enemy, Colonel Blimp makes one of its main characters a sympathetic German, and is clear to highlight that these nations will be friends again in the future.

Livesey is staggering as Candy (who later becomes Wynne-Candy). The make-up work is absolutely flawless, easily trumping the big Hollywood productions we get these days. The man genuinely ages before our eyes, and Livesey manages to entirely convince as a man gaining experience and weariness through the years. He may be a man whose values are slowly becoming obsolete, but he remains a good man, and a thoroughly lovable one. Walbrook delivers an understated performance, and brings a tear to the eye during a monologue in which tries to convince British officials why they shouldn't deport him back to Nazi Germany, and Kerr juggles three roles - as Candy's lost love Edith; his wife Barbara; and his driver 'Johnny' in his later years - with absolute ease. It has remarkable scope yet is incredibly intimate, and it's a film that should have been branded across every cinema screen in the country by the War Office. Quite possibly the finest film ever to emerge from our rainy shores.

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.

Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, the outstanding British writing-directing team of the 1940's, produced probably their greatest work in this assured, pacy flag-waver made in the middle of the war. Colonel Blimp was a newspaper cartoon character created by Low, the English genius with the patriotic bent. Blimp was a little slow and inflexible, but he was certain of his moral position and was entirely fearless. He enshrined the British national character, and stood as a reassuring emblem for the British people during the dark days of World War Two. In this film, the character of General Wynne-Candy is loosely based on Blimp.

An early British venture into the new Technicolor process, "Blimp" is an unmitigated triumph. Georges Perinal, for the Technicolor Company, produced a sumptuous and crystal-clear stream of images. The pastel blue of the Turkish baths and the pinks and reds of the British Embassy are a feast for the eye. And it is hard to think of many finer cinematic moments than Edith's appearance at the hospital window, her face dappled by leaf shadows and her vivid scarlet belt radiant with colour.

The brisk pace of the action is set right at the very beginning, with a team of motor-cycle couriers being passed at speed by the truck-mounted camera. We see a message being delivered to a young army officer. Dialogue is delivered in amusing staccato, and the officer, 'Spud' Wilson, launches a military manoeuvre. His men set off in pursuit of a uniformed young woman, referred to as 'Mata Hari'. This puzzling business engages our attention, but we have to wait until the final reel for everything in this section to be explained.

A skilful transition takes the camera by means of a crane shot to the far end of the pool in the Turkish baths, and we have travelled back in time from 1943 to 1902. The gentlemen's club is exactly the same, this being England, land of enduring values. There are comforting references to Albion's might, for this is Britain's heyday and the Boers have just been defeated. Young Candy is correspondingly vigorous, just back from South Africa with his Victoria Cross. A letter from an English governess living in Germany sends Candy off on a bit of proto-Bond counterespionage. Those German bounders must be prevented from spreading lies about Britain's record in South Africa. The British, unlike the beastly hun, always fight fair.

The German episode culminates in Candy fighting a duel with Kretschmer-Schuldorff, befriending him then losing Edith to him. This section of the film is packed with unflattering German stereotypes. Kaunitz and his 'table' stop the playing of the operetta tune - German militarists, you see, are killers of beauty. Whereas London was reassuringly sooty and foggy, Berlin is all snow trodden by jackboots - a harsher political climate. The meticulous care the German officers take over the duel arrangements emphasises their devotion to violence and their lack of humanity. A second beautiful transition lifts us out of the Uhlans' gymnasium and into a carriage.

Quite apart from boosting morale at home in Britain, this movie was also intended to encourage sympathy for the British cause in the USA. Accordingly, some blatant Americanisms have found their way into the script ('went bail', 'railroad', 'we're quits'). Kretschmer-Schuldorff wears his duelling scar with pride, but Candy, being English, modestly covers his with a moustache.

Another brilliant transition moves the story forward to World War One. We see animal heads mounted on Candy's wall, with dates attached. Rifle shots sound and rapid cuts move us from boar to elephant etc. In simple elegant cinematic language, the years between 1902 and 1918 have been bridged. Candy has aged, and is now a brigadier serving on the Western Front. The Americans whom he meets are all genial types (the actors were actually serving American soldiers). As the guns fall silent on Armistice Day, their ominous rumble is replaced by birdsong. The battlefield set is superb.

The 'English countryside' sequence is skilfully done. Concert music to which the German prisoners are listening carries over unbroken into the scene between Candy and the Commanding Officer. As Candy and Barbara talk of their love, the grand house stands behind them out of focus, the symbol of Britain's heritage, ever-present but never ostentatious. The kindness shown to the German prisoners is emphasised, and this makes the snub administered by Kretschmer-Schuldorff all the more distasteful.

When Wynne-Candy (as he now styles himself) sits at the fireside with Barbara, the colour and composition are exquisite. The dinner guests are open and generous, in contrast with Kretschmer-Schuldorff's teutonic gracelessness: "Don't you worry," they tell him, "we'll soon have Germany on her feet again." Yet another transition takes us through the inter-war years by leafing through Wynne-Candy's scrapbook.

Anton Walbrook is billed as the star, playing Kretschmer-Schuldorff, but it is Roger Livesey as Wynne-Candy who unifies the whole film with an inspired performance as the amiable British hero. A very young Deborah Kerr plays three parts - Edith, Barbara and Angela - as Wynne-Candy pursues his vision of the Golden Girl across the decades of the 20th century.

The two duellists are inseparable, having once been enemies, and aliens in each other's homeland. The stiff German is civilised by his experiences in England, and eventually comes to feel 'homesick' for the land he once hated. 'Spud' Wilson is the enthusiastic young soldier of 1943, the Candy of the new generation. And thus the Great British story continues ...