• Stalag 17

9/4/21 (Sat)

Billy Wilder’s 1953 film about goings-on in a German POW stalag during WWII. That would seem an uncomfortable subject just a few years after the war, but it was based on a highly successful Broadway play by two former POWs recalling their own experiences. One compound of prisoners in a Nazi camp have become suspicious as their captors seem to have advance knowledge of their every scheme, including an attempted escape through a would-be secret tunnel that resulted in the death of two prisoners. They suspect that there is a spy in their midst, and all eyes turn to the unpopular Sefton (William Holden), an aloof sergeant who has no problem with sacrificing his principles to win favors from the Nazis. He’s full of money-making schemes like rat races, rotgut liquor, and a telescope for a 20-second look at the Russian female prisoners waiting for their showers. He uses his winnings (mainly in cigarettes) to earn privileges like visits to the female quarters and egg lunches rather than the usual gruel. He is uninterested in what the others think of him, lording over them at times, until they beat him mercilessly as a presumed spy. That spurs him to seek out the real spy in the camp, who turns out to be someone quite unexpected.

The drama is populated mainly by stock characters on the prisoner side, but it works in a mechanical kind of way. I felt like I was watching 1950s television. It’s laced with unfunny comic bits that feel desperate. The worst offenders are Robert Strauss and Harvey Lembeck, both repeating their Broadway roles. They must think they’re still on stage with all the mugging and exaggerations; that should have been reined in big time for the screen. Their dumb routine involving Strauss’ Betty Grable obsession is irritating, and Strauss’ intoxicated dance with the dragged-out Lembeck ruins the lovely scene where the female-starved soldiers are dancing with each other on Xmas. Strauss was somehow nominated for a best-supporting actor Oscar (he lost to Sinatra in From Here to Eternity), but his shtick quickly wore out its welcome. Another soldier attempts to be funny with impersonations of famous people of the day. It doesn’t work. The characters on the Germany side were more interesting. Sig Ruman as Sgt. Schulz is dumb on the surface, but his secret work with the spy implies that much of his silliness is intentional. Otto Preminger also crafted a memorable character in Colonel von Scherbach, commandant of the camp, staying just this side of caricature. I loved how he put his boots on for the phone call so that he could click his heels, quickly taking them back off again thereafter.

Holden is great as the sardonic Sefton. He shows no desire to make friends with others, interested only in his own material comfort. Holden manages impressively to make that nastiness feel real, maintaining that to the end (“If I ever run into any of you bums on a street corner, just let’s pretend we’ve never met before”). He reportedly wanted to make his character more sympathetic, but Wilder was absolutely correct to maintain the cynicism to the end. (Wish they could have done something about that horrific amount of chest hair sticking out from his collar.)

Some amusing dialogue found its way into the script (“Sprechen Sie Deutsches? Then droppen Sie dead”; Schulz: “How do you expect to win the war with an army of clowns?” Dunbar: “We sort of hope you’d laugh yourselves to death”), but it was fairly standard fare overall. A solid if old-fashioned drama, fun but not Wilder’s best. At least it gave us “Hogan’s Heroes” (including a markedly similar Sgt. Schulz), for which I’m grateful.