Spotlight

Spotlight Date: 22-September-02
Spoiler Rating: Medium

Stalag 17 (1953)

"Stalag 17" has been on my radar screen ever since "Chicken Run" came out two years ago. At that time, everyone cited it as one of the great prisoner of war movies which continues to influence filmmakers today; also, I read that it features the only Oscar-winning performance of William Holden (of whom I am a big fan). So, I had high expectations when I finally sat down to watch it, and these expectations weren't completely met. The tone of the film is disjointed; I never knew exactly how I was supposed to be reacting. Like so many depictions of wartime life since, "Stalag 17" is a curious mix of drama and action with humor --- do soldiers really make a lark of war as a way of getting through it? In this case, I felt that the writer and director, and not just the characters, were making a lark of it, and that didn't sit perfectly well with me.

However, the writer and director in question here is none other than Billy Wilder, one of the most versatile, prolific, and brilliant moviemakers of all time. This fact forced me, after the video had been rewound and put away, to give "Stalag 17" serious consideration. I realized that the movie is not about fascinating characters and situations --- the things that normally get me excited --- but it is about something, and that something is the notion that appearances can be deceiving.

With the exception of one over-long comic scene, Wilder's script is tightly constructed if not always consistent in mood. The story is quickly told: a group of American sergeants shares a barracks in a German POW camp (named Stalag 17) during WW II. The standard characters endemic to all packs of men in the movies (be they in gangs, mental wards, or prisons) are here displayed: the leader, the goofball, the sissy, the tough, the kid, the golden boy, the all-American straight guy, and the poor crazy bastard. And then there's Sefton (Holden), a cynic who doesn't fit in and keeps aloof from the buddy-buddy interaction of the rest of the company. When it becomes apparent that one of their number is betraying their schemes for escape and rebellion to the Germans, the troop naturally suspects and then punishes Sefton, not only because he's the odd man out, but also because he has openly bartered with his captors for cigarettes, eggs, and other special privileges. This sets the innocent Sefton on the trail of the real snitch, which eventually provides him with an unlooked-for opportunity for both escape and heroism.

Although Sefton is put forward as the star, several of the characters enjoy a lot of screen time (most notably the goofy Shapiro, played by Harvey Lembeck, and his wacky pal Animal, played by Robert Strauss, who was also nominated for an Oscar). But none of the men really grips you because --- intentionally, for once --- they all are used either for comic relief or to represent a stereotype. (And Sefton is just a dry prick, so he's not worth caring for.) Wilder offers up a smorgasbord of average American Joes, as well as a couple of Germans, and asks you (as they ask themselves): who is a hero? who is a traitor? who is good? who is bad? The answers are not what you (or they) expect.

The idea that appearances are deceiving is further highlighted by many scenes of barracks life. Animal ghostwrites letters to the poor crazy bastard's parents to protect them from knowing about the mental decrepitude of their son, and in another scene (the over-long one previously noted) he mistakes Harry for his beloved Betty Grable while in a drunken stupor. One of the sergeants is a master of impersonations, giving his comrades excellent renditions of Clark Gable and Cary Grant. And when an inspector comes to make sure the Germans are following the code of the Geneva Convention, the Germans hand out brand-new blankets to the inmates (and then take them back the next day). The lives of everyone in the camp, both American and German, are devoted to deceit and dissimulation, but the irony is that none of them can really see what's in front of their noses, i.e., who is telling the truth, and who is not to be trusted. Only Sefton makes no pretense of being something that he isn't --- for example, unafraid, eager to continue the fight, and hopeful of imminent rescue, as the other men claim to be --- and for this he is branded a lying traitor.

The high point of "Stalag 17" is a fantastic scene which completely illustrates the absurdity of appearances. The pompous barracks warden (Otto Preminger), having corralled an American lieutenant suspected of blowing up a railroad station, places a call to his superior in Berlin. Before doing so, he puts on his boots so that he can stand tall and properly salute his commander while talking on the phone. As soon as the call is over, he returns to stocking feet. Here is a guy who can only read a book by its cover, and for this alone, if nothing else, destiny demands that his perfect record at Stalag 17 be broken.

This is not Holden's greatest performance, and certainly not his greatest role, so it would be interesting to know what won him the Oscar that year. Were Academy voters in the '50s --- an era much devoted to external appearances --- strangely drawn to the unexpected antihero in a war movie? In any case, "Stalag 17" shouldn't be remembered for its characters, its depiction of prisoners' lives (which has been done better since), or its gratifying but predictable finale of Americans trumping their Nazi enemies. This is a war movie with a message about looking beyond the external, not about war.

Copyright © 2002 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.