NFR Project: “From Here to Eternity”
Dir: Fred Zinneman
Scr: Daniel Taradash
Pho: Burnett Guffey
Ed: William A. Lyon
Premiere: Aug. 5, 1953
118 min.
For once, they made a great movie out of a great novel.
James Jones was a hell of a good writer. Everyone should read his war
trilogy – From Here to Eternity (1951), The Thin Red Line (1962), and Whistle
(1978).
They constitute an epic saga of how war and the military make and unmake
people’s souls.
Eternity was a best-seller, and somewhat controversial
in its day due to its strong language and some of its subjects – prostitution,
venereal disease, homosexuality. It was also thought that the novel was
unadaptable to film. The book is brilliant but sprawling, restless in its examination
of human behavior, beliefs, and dreams, featuring many interior monologues.
Jones wrote a screenplay adaptation, but it was rejected.
Several elements of the book are toned down for the film version. The
Production Code had to be followed, and the Army had to sign off on it as well.
No more prostitution, venereal disease, or homosexuality. A key character is
forced to resign in the film, despite the novel ironically leading him on to
bigger and better things. Of course there’s no dirty talk.
However, Daniel Taradash did a brilliant, Oscar-winning job of
winnowing down the novel into a streamlined yet detailed and nuanced
screenplay, staying as faithful to its source as the times would permit it.
The film is staged at the actual Schofield Barracks in Hawaii. It’s the
story of a man who goes against the system that he, ironically, loves. Private
Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) is a gifted but stubborn bugler who
transferred from his old outfit because he wasn’t being treated fairly. Unfortunately,
he’s wound up in a company run by an untalented, idiotic, and lazy Captain,
Holmes (Philip Ober), whose pet project is to win the regiment boxing
championship. He has a bunch of noncommissioned officers under his command who
are there only so that they can fight.
Holmes wants Prewitt to box. Prewitt won’t – he blinded a man in the
ring and afterwards swore it off. Holmes promises him that he will be harassed
and punished until he gives in. Prewitt, heroically stubborn, accepts the
challenge.
The company is really run by Sergeant Milt Warden (Burt Lancaster), who
is incredibly efficient and caring about his men, although he doesn’t put up
with any guff. A chance meeting with his Captain’s wife Karen (Deborah Kerr)
leads to the two having a passionate affair. Meanwhile, Prewitt goes on one of
his rare outings on leave to the town, and in a “social club” where Lorene
(Donna Reed) works. They immediately fall in love.
And then there’s Maggio (Frank Sinatra). Maggio is an oddball, loud,
obnoxious, rebellious, always joking but a good fella. Maggio crosses paths at
the club with the enormous and brutal Sergeant “Fatso” Judson (Ernest
Borgnine). Each develops a distinct hatred for each other. Judson runs the
stockade.
Prewitt, meanwhile, can’t play his instrument on base, and casually
shows off his prowess on it one night in a nightclub. After a second, violent
confrontation (Fatso mocks Maggio’s picture of his sister) Judson swears he
will give Maggio the business if he ever falls under his command.
Karen and Warden’s affair continues. They sneak around the island
together, as getting caught would mean prison for Warden. (On comes the
immortal shot of the two of them kissing in the surf under the moon.) Karen
reveals her life’s tragedy, and they become even closer. Karen wants Warden to
become an officer, so she can divorce Capt. Holmes and marry him. Warden hates
officers and does not want to become one.
Prewitt’s hazing continues. Still, he exclaims, “A man loves a thing,
that don’t mean it has to love him back.”
Maggio finally gets picked up and court-martialed. He is remanded to
the stockade. Fatso is waiting for him.
Prewitt explains that he is a career soldier, a “30-year man.” Lorene (Alma,
actually) admits she will not marry Prewitt because she wants a “proper” husband,
home, and life. She wants to be respectable. Still, she admits, she needs him.
Prewitt fights one of his tormentors on the base quadrangle. At first
he holds back, refusing to hit his opponent in the face. At last he becomes
enraged and beats the other guy up. Still, he insists, he won’t box. One night
Warden and Prewitt get drunk together. In stumbles a mortally wounded Maggio,
who has been taking beatings for months and has just escaped from the stockade.
Fatally injured, Maggio dies in Prewitt’s arms.
Prewitt plays Taps that night for his barrack-mates; a slow, achingly
beautiful rendition. Prewitt seeks out Fatso and fights him in an alley. Fatso
is killed, but he wounds Prewitt badly in the fight. Prewitt staggers to
Lorene/Alma’s, hiding out while his wound heals.
You know what happens then? World War II, that’s what happens. It’s
Sunday morning, Dec. 7, 1941. Pearl Harbor is attacked, and so are Amry installations
on the island, including Schofield Barracks. Warden and the men fight
haphazardly. Prewitt, despite his wound, determines to get back to his unit.
Sneaking among sentries that night, he is confronted and runs, leading to him
being shot to death.
And that’s it. The last scene shows Karen and Lorene on a ship leaving
Hawaii, both without the marriages they expected. Lorene pretends to Karen that
her “fiancée” was a bomber pilot killed on the runway on Dec. 7. Karen
realizes, from conversations she’s had with Warden, who Prewitt was and that
this is untrue. She lets it slide. And the camera pulls in to Lorene’s hand,
holding Prewitt’s bugle’s mouthpiece.
It won Best Picture, Best Director, Best Supporting Actor (Sinatra, in
an achievement that reignited his popularity), Best Supporting Actress for
Donna Reed, Best Screenplay, Cinematography, and Editing. There is nothing
earth-shaking going on stylistically. It’s a human-sized story about grown-up
people’s problems, and Zinneman gives his players room to breathe, casting them
in ever-changing gradations of black and white.
The source material is searingly honest and well-observed, and the film
reflects that rueful cynicism about life that the military breeds. The good guys
are the lowly in rank, the working stiffs, the ones who are really dedicated to
the ideals what they serve are supposed to stand for. The higher up you go, the
more of a jerk you are.
In the end, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. In Prewitt’s case,
he bucks the system and pays the price for it. The construct simply won’t accommodate
the free-thinking individual. Holmes is forced to resign – a change from the
novel, which saw him get promoted. Warden continues on stoically. Who is right?
Is anybody redeemed?
The NFR Project is one writer’s attempt to
review all the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological
order. Next time: The
Hitch-Hiker.
