The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943) Directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger
The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is almost a contradiction in terms--a warm, fuzzy propaganda movie, one designed to lift British spirits and strengthen British resolve in the middle of World War II. The central character, Major General Clive Wynne-Candy, a good-natured, well meaning relic of the Boer War, is captured in a training exercise by some young whippersnapper who has a lot of initiative but little sensitivity toward old fashioned niceties. With time to kill, Candy reminisces about his past and about a love long lost but still achingly remembered. In some respects Candy is a pathetic figure; however; he has served his country selflessly through three wars. As a result, his character is gently poked fun of as embodying a certain kind of dated but still laudable British stereotype. Indeed, the movie makes clear that directors Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger view this old man with great fondness. He is a comic figure, but like Falstaff, he is not a figure of ridicule. Filtered through his bearing and sensibility, many homely British virtues such as resolve, pluck, fair play, and patriotism are paraded out with their medals on for the wartime audience to behold. All in all, it is a decidedly odd kind of romantic movie.
I really got the sense that this is how Powell and Pressburger and a huge chunk of their audience liked to think of their country. The movie plays down the colonizer bit, but plays up the jolly old England bit--seemingly as a way of impressing on its audience just what it is fighting for. The reality of this England is similar to the reality experienced in Agatha Christie mystery novels. It's not real but it is comforting--at least to those of a particular class who have bought in to the illusion. Perhaps it is the curse of English-speaking peoples--to feel a deep nostalgia for something that was always more myth than reality in the first place. While I enjoyed this movie, it has the smell of moth balls.
A tip of the hat to Anton Walbrook, though. He plays Candy's friend and occassional nemesis, Theo. Walbrook spent much of his career playing variations of the same role: the slightly-accented central European who can mix charm and menace with ease. He is actually an amazing actor, totally relaxed and natural in front of a camera. Somehow he can hang in the background and be astoundingly charismatic at the same time. He communicates wit and intelligence--when his characters aren't speaking lines, I always wonder what they are thinking. I would have put him in
Casablanca way ahead of Paul Henreid, trading Walbrook's self-aware ambiguity for Henreid's stiffness and dullness in the process. You could see Ingrid Bergman falling for this guy, and he would be a worthy challenger to Humphrey Bogart in her heart. Henreid seems like a clammy fish in comparison.
And, oh joy, a young Deborah Kerr in not one but three roles--though she doesn't actually explore a lot of range. Still, she shows sufficient star quality to realize that it is no surprise that she went on to bigger and better things.
I have a sudden urge for tea and crumpets.