The Layman’s Movie Review: What We CanLearn From Film

In 1971, Patton was named Best Picture for the films released in 1970. Nominated for ten Academy Awards, the biopic took home seven, including Best Picture, Best Actor for George C. Scott, and Best Director for Franklin J. Schaffner.

And yes, it deserved them.

This is the first in my series of blogs about film. The plan is ambitious: I intend to review every Best Picture winner, one decade at a time. There will be no particular rhyme or reason to where I begin, but as you can see, I am starting with the 1970s.

I also reserve the right to approach each film differently. These reviews will have minds of their own. At times, I may spend more time discussing a movie that should have won, or one I loved, or one I hated, or simply found too interesting to ignore.

No, I’m not Siskel or Ebert. But I love movies, especially those that reach beyond entertainment and speak directly to the heart. So join me on this journey into the past. Perhaps it will lead you to an older film worth rediscovering. It may save you from wasting and wanting hours of your life back. Or perhaps we can simply reminisce about some of the great ones.

And away we go.

First up is Patton, a biopic worthy of the man it portrays and worthy of our time, attention, and the title of Best Picture.

A Complicated Man and American General

George C. Scott is magnificent as General George S. Patton. He does not play him as a simple hero or a monster. Instead, he gives us a man that is brilliant and reckless, religious and profane, disciplined and impulsive.

After being reprimanded for slapping a hospitalized soldier, Patton says: “I wish I’d kissed the son of a bitch!”

In reality, Patton slapped two hospitalized soldiers during the 1943 Sicily campaign and was ordered to apologize. The movie’s line was most likely created for the screen, but it captures Patton’s defiance perfectly.

The incident remains troubling. One of the soldiers was suffering from malaria and was not in a proper frame of mind. Patton saw this fear and exhaustion as cowardice, a judgment that seems particularly harsh today. Yet this is one reason the film works so well. The film presents Patton as he was. One thing to keep in mind is a great general would probably react as Patton did because being politically correct is not really in the job description. However, the film neither condemns him as entirely evil nor absolves him because he was a brilliant commander. It lets us wrestle with both sides of the man.

He Thought He Had Lived in Past Times

Patton’s fascination with military history was central to his identity. He believed in reincarnation and claimed to remember fighting in ancient battles. While visiting the ruins of Carthage, he speaks as though he had witnessed the conflict himself.

Whether we believe him is almost beside the point. The scene shows us how completely Patton identified with the soldiers and generals of the past. For him, history was not a collection of names and dates. It was alive.

Great generals tend to possess a strong sense of history, and Patton viewed himself as part of an ancient line of warriors.

That idea appears again after his victory over German forces at the Battle of El Guettar in Tunisia. Patton calls out, “Rommel, you magnificent bastard! I read your book!” It is one of the most memorable lines in the movie.

Patton almost certainly studied Rommel’s writings, although Rommel’s book focused on infantry tactics during World War I rather than tank warfare. Still, we can learn a great deal about how a man thinks by reading his work. Patton may have believed that studying Rommel gave him insight into the German commander’s mind.

The irony is that Rommel was not at El Guettar. Because of health problems, he had already returned to Berlin. The movie acknowledges this by having Patton insist that it did not matter, he was still fighting Rommel’s methods.

It is not perfectly accurate history, but it is excellent filmmaking.

Performance is Everything in a Film!

At nearly three hours long, Patton demands a commitment from the viewer. It is worth every minute.

Scott dominates the movie without reducing Patton to a simple battle loving caricature. He captures the general’s intelligence, ego, humor, vanity, temper, and devotion to his craft.

Karl Malden also gives a wonderful performance as General Omar N. Bradley. The film was based partly on Bradley’s memoir, A Soldier’s Story, as well as Ladislas Farago’s biography Patton: Ordeal and Triumph.

Bradley provides the balance the story needs. His restrained personality gives us someone against whom we can measure Patton’s flamboyance and aggression. Patton commands nearly every room he enters; Bradley quietly studies the room before deciding what must be done.

The contrast between them strengthens the film and gives us insight into two powerhouse actors of their time.

A Scene for the Ages

I love the opening of the film. Patton stands before an enormous American flag and delivers a speech to his troops. It is one of the most recognizable openings in motion picture history.

He declares, “No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making some other poor dumb bastard die for his country.”

The scene immediately tells us who this man is. Patton was deeply religious, but he was also famously profane. He believed in courage, destiny, duty, discipline, and victory. He did not view war as a tragedy to be endured, but instead, where he felt most fully alive.

He is a hero, but not a warrior in the fullest sense of the word. A hero needs to prove himself; a warrior acts with clear purpose. A hero seeks recognition, yet a warrior serves a worthy cause. One looks to the black and white of winning and losing, and the other serves and sacrifices and understands much more is at stake. Sure, Patton was on the right side of history but still is blinded by the need to prove himself. It shows how reckless he was at times and addicted to competition with Rommel. For the warrior, there are clear boundaries, ones that see beyond the simpleness of what we as human beings see as a win or a loss. The warrior would ask what is worth defending and ask what he must do.

A Man with a Purpose

One scene in particular struck me. After the slapping incidents, Patton loses his command. While talking with Sergeant William Meeks, he says, “The last great opportunity of a lifetime—an entire world at war, and I’m left out of it?”

What fascinates me is that Patton is not angry about losing a job or a promotion. Instead, he has been stripped of his purpose. His entire life seems to have prepared him for this war, and now the war is moving on without him. For Patton, that may have been a fate worse than death.

The Allied command eventually used his reputation to its advantage, placing him in England as part of the deception surrounding the D-Day invasion. The Germans considered Patton one of the Allies’ most dangerous generals, so his presence helped convince them that the main invasion might come elsewhere.

Patton did as he was told. Eventually, he was given command of the Third Army and returned to the fighting.

Redemption

The Battle of the Bulge gives the film its redemptive climax. When German forces surrounded American troops at Bastogne in December 1944, Patton promised that he could turn his army north and attack in three days. The maneuver was an extraordinary military achievement. His forces pushed through terrible winter conditions and helped relieve the besieged troops at Bastogne.

Patton also ordered his chaplain to compose a prayer for good weather so Allied aircraft could support the ground attack. The weather eventually cleared, allowing air support to return. The scene is beautifully handled, and the chaplain’s reaction to Patton is priceless.

Here the film makes its strongest case for the general. The same aggression, confidence, stubbornness, and audacity that repeatedly got Patton into trouble also made him the man needed at Bastogne. In peacetime, such qualities might make a man unbearable. In war, they might save an army.

The Verdict

Patton does not ask us to admire everything about the man. That is precisely why the film remains so powerful. It shows us a man who could inspire soldiers and humiliate them, study history and misunderstand human suffering, pray to God and curse the men around him. He was a brilliant commander whose greatest strengths could become dangerous weaknesses. Again, hero, not warrior.

The film shows more than just a man who served in the military. Patton believed he had been born for battle. Without war, he had nothing. Strange how a low speed car accident killed him on December 21, 1945, shortly after the end of World War II. The circumstances surrounding his death is worthy of its own blog. In fact, I believe a book has been written about it.

George C. Scott gives us all of those contradictions without trying to resolve them. His performance is larger than life because Patton himself was larger than life. Yet Scott also reveals the loneliness beneath the uniform. More than fifty years after its release, Patton still stands the test of time. It is a great war film, a fascinating character study, and a biopic worthy of Best Picture.

Next up: The French Connection.

Anthony’s Final Reel

Best performance: George C. Scott

Best scene: Some would say the opening scene, but I’m partial to the scene with Sergeant Meeks and his frustration with being relieved of command.

Most memorable line: “Rommel, you magnificent bastard! I read your book!”

Historical accuracy: Hollywood takes liberties, but the essential portrait rings true

Has it aged well? Yes

Was it worthy of Best Picture? Absolutely

Would I watch it again? Yes, and I have!