• The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp

7/22/21 (Thurs)

I had assumed somehow that this 1943 film by the Archers would be a gentle satire for wartime audiences given the title, which refers to a buffoonish soldier in a hugely popular cartoon of the day. But it uses that association instead as the starting point for a more interesting exploration of just how the character, here in the form of a Major-General Candy, got to where he is. It’s a thoughtful comedy showing the rise and decline of a soldier who fought eminently in the turn-of-the-century Boer War and WWI, only to be dumped in WWII for his old ideals. More generally, it’s about the inescapable nature of aging and the passing of generations.

The film opens with British soldiers bursting in and taking Candy “prisoner” in a war exercise by deliberately breaking the carefully arranged rules, telling the incensed general that Nazis don’t follow British sportsmanship. It seems at first a clumsy comedy, as guys trip over each other, catch the general lounging naked in a Turkish bath, and tumble into a pool. Here, the main character does appear Blimp-like in his stubborn insistence on bureaucratic protocol, and I thought we were in for a Carry On episode. But the movie had more in mind. When the men make fun of his appearance (which looks remarkably like the cartoon), he explodes, “You don’t know how I got this moustache. You don’t know how I got this big belly.” True enough. That’s the first indication that this is more than a frantic farce.

The story flashes back to the turn of the century, with a great transition shot from the old Candy floundering at one end of the pool to his younger self emerging from the other end. It then drifts on for the first 90 minutes with a loose story that was not overly interesting, including Candy’s insult of a German officer and resulting old-fashioned by-the-book duel with a German subordinate. They do some damage to each other (Candy’s facial scar leads him to grow his moustache) but survive to become the best of friends. Meeting him again after WWI, where they were on opposite sides, Candy introduces his friend to a gathering of British soldiers. The friend realizes instantly that their munificent treatment of Germans like him signals a weakness that can be exploited by a less-fastidious enemy, but the others, wedded to their civilized ways, refuse to listen.

After more antics, we reach late 1939, when the war is in full swing. The German is now an enemy alien seeking refuge in the UK. In a magnificent performance, filmed in a single take, he explains why he has left his country and chosen England, how his kids became Nazis and turned against him, and how his English wife died before they could return to the UK together. It’s one of the most mesmerizing film scenes I’ve ever seen.

The film gets to its feet and its point after that: the old world gone, Nazis using new methods that the old gentlemanly ways can’t outmatch, old soldiers always fighting the last war. The English general, convinced that the UK’s WWI victory proved that “right is might” (i.e., morality always wins the day), says he would rather lose than resort to Nazi methods and will wait until the next opportunity to fight back. His realistic German friend reminds him that if the UK loses this time, there will be no next opportunity. The elegant duel with its quaint rules, based on an actual guidebook, has crumbled to a win-at-any-cost mindset. The old general is unceremoniously dumped by the army, but continues to work with the Home Front until picking up again where the movie began. The film’s initial scene is cleverly replayed as is, making a lot more sense this time around. The final image shows the deflated Candy looking out at the water around his destroyed home and reminiscing how he pledged to his wife that he would always remain devoted even if the home should flood. It was a beautiful ending.

The film refrains from overt drama, skipping the spectacle: the duel (built up until the moment it begins, when it cuts abruptly to the scarred men convalescing together), the marriages, the wars. It seems to slyly comment on that by skimming quickly over the safari trophy heads while showing a succession of cards simply listing where the animals were killed.

A wonderful Deborah Kerr plays three roles over three generations: a woman who is loved silently by Candy but ends up with his best friend, the German soldier; a woman he spots in a convent that he instantly falls in love with and marries due to the resemblance with his old flame; and a female driver late in life who he has selected out of 700 applicants for the same reason. This represents of course his stubborn devotion to the old and his reluctance (or inability) to embrace the new. She is superb as the ever-young women, a contrast to the increasingly old and fat Candy and a constant reminder for him of the past.

Roger Livesey (whose wife also appears in the film) is fine as the major-general, including an amazing transition from old to young and back. Anton Walbrook (later equally good in The Red Shoes) is spectacular as the cynical German soldier, especially in his awe-inspiring speech. His heartfelt delivery maybe shouldn’t be surprising given that he was himself an Austrian who escaped to the UK in the late 1930s, as being half-Jewish and gay wasn’t smart in the Nazi era. He was excellent in every way.

The film was terrific once it got going, and I’m glad I stuck with it. Churchill supposedly thought they were making fun of him with the main character and tried unsuccessfully to stop the film, though he did prevent a US opening until after the war (which even then was shown only in a severely abridged version). More than that, it seems odd that the filmmakers would present a “good German” at that stage of the war, even if the German was anti-Nazi. In any event, that did nothing to stop its success. A slow-burning but fascinating examination of how we inevitably carry the seeds of our own obsolescence.