by Douglas Messerli
Lillian Hellman (story and screenplay,
with added dialogue by Burt Beck), Lewis Milestone (director) The North Star (revised as Armored Attack!) / 1943
Lewis Milestone’s 1943 movie The North Star has got to be one of the
strangest films in all of Hollywood. The project began with Franklin D.
Roosevelt’s suggestion to film producer Samuel Goldwyn that he do a film about
America’s Russian ally, particularly given the recent attacks on the Soviet Union
by the Nazis. Not so coincidentally, Roosevelt’s son, James, was then president
of Goldwyn studios.
Although Hellman had never been to Ukraine, she based much of her story and script on experiences she had had in her previous trip to Russia, where she had visited a collective farm. She apparently researched extensively.
Goldwyn, meanwhile, hired the experienced director of All Quiet on the Western Front, Lewis Milestone, who, along with the studio, signed a notable group of actors, including Dana Andrews, Walter Huston, Walter Brennan, Ann Harding, Jane Withers, Anne Baxter, Dean Jagger, Erich von Stroheim, and Farley Granger (in his first screen role).
On top of that the studio signed the great American composer Aaron
Copland and noted lyricist Ira Gershwin to write music and lyrics for the film.
Noted cinematographer James Wong Howe was also brought aboard.
The very fact
that Milestone-Goldwyn had brought in such major musicians might have given
Hellman some clue that the serious document she was writing was perhaps at odds
with the way the studio perceived the project. But evidently Hellman had no
idea just how far apart was her vision of the film from Milestone’s. Once
shooting began, Hellman began battling with both producer and director as they
entirely restructured her script and, as she correctly puts it, “turned the
village festival into an extended opera bouffe
by music comedy characters.” As Phil Karlson notes in World Film Directors, at one point during the peasant festivities
it appears that “the entire Bolshoi Ballet…has dropped by for an impromptu
workout.” The lighthearted ridiculousness of the songs, particularly the
Broadway-like lyrics, doesn’t help. And the entire first half of The North Star is filmed against a
seemingly idyllic village as if John Ford’s expressionist Bohemian village of
his silent film Four Sons had been
dropped upon the set of Brigadoon.
In fact, in its uses of sunflowers, rows of corn, and swelling hills,
the set of The North Star is somewhat
closer to Ukraine perhaps than Hellman’s possibly imagined Russian steppes. But
the whole, as many critics of the day, and many more since are argued, is pure
hokum. The very idea of using the character-actor Walter Brennan as a comrade
pig-farmer who becomes a freedom-fighter brings on the giggles.
It not surprising, accordingly, that at one point early in the filming
Hellman burst into tears, and later bought her contract back from Goldwyn,
refusing to do more films with him.
Yet if one can close one eye a little,
overlooking the silly and quite sentimental first “act” of the film—accepting
it for its establishment of a kind of rural paradise about to be destroyed—the
film that follows is often quite remarkable. Milestone, as he made clear in
other films, was never one to wash over the terrors of war, and in this work he
portrays the Nazis not only as brutal conquerors—who break a leg and arm of an
elderly woman simply for being the wife of an escaped freedom fighter and who
vampirishly bleed the village children to death in their attempts to blood
transfusions for their own soldiers—but as beings who blithely shoot down
everyone their planes encounter, wandering children and adult workers equally.
Erich von Stroheim is particularly convincing as the German surgeon (Dr. von
Harden) who dismisses those around him as being incompetent beasts, while he
justifies his murderous actions.
Even Brennan, in one of his least overacted roles, becomes quite convincing, as does Huston as the elderly Dr. Kurin, who, after witnessing the death of a village child, leads his fellow villagers to oust and kill the Germans.
Several scenes—the villagers’ attempts to torch their own homes filled with their personal belongings, the intense gun battles between the youths and German caravans, and the final battle between the returned freedom fighters and the entrenched Nazi troops—represent the best of war and adventure cinema genres, with Milestone often showing the scene from one perspective only to immediately follow it up from another, so that the audience feels it has a kind of early panoramic vision of the action, creating not only great tension but revealing an intense horror of war that kills its victims not once, but twice.
If the film seems to begin, accordingly, on a slightly loopy soundstage
full of eccentric village simpletons, it ends as a quite serious exploration of
just how much people are willing to give up in order to maintain within
themselves a tiny possibility of hope for a new existence and the will to
create a new society.
Although William Randolph Hearst insisted that his reviewers describe it
simply as “UNADULITERATED SOVIET PROPAGANDA” (when a positive review slipped
out in his New York Journal-American,
Hearst pulled it by the next edition), other critics reviewed it credibly, and
the movie received six Academy Award nominations.
Over time, however, critics seem to have ignored any of the positive
qualities I have just enumerated. In part, it was the times itself that changed
notions surrounding the film. Over the next decade, US viewers lost any sense
of differentiation between Russia and Ukraine, and, particularly during the
1950’s McCarthy witch-hunts the director, writer, producer and actors were
forced to face the House Committee on Un-American Activities (the film have
been labeled as being one of three supposedly “Commie”-supporting films, the
other two being Mission to Moscow and
Song of Russia). Particularly after
the Hungarian Uprising of 1956, everyone involved was forced to back away from
the original.
In 1957 the film was severely edited, with long anti-Communist
statements added, and released as Armored
Attack! Strangely, today, at least to my taste, the remake—sans the silly idyll of collectivist
living—seems to be more propagandistic than the original, which, in some
respects, has more in common with the films of Dovzhenko than with other
American portrayals of war-time survival.
Los Angeles, August 7, 2014
Reprinted from International Cinema Review (August
2014)
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