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.

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