NONE BUT THE BRAVE: Blu-ray (Warner Bros. 1965) Warner Archive
Director Clint Eastwood
has received many justly deserved accolades in his lifetime. But crediting him as
the first to show two sides of the American/Japanese conflict during WWII ought
not be one of them as, in 1965, director/producer/star, Frank Sinatra broke a
time-honored mold of taking an exclusively ‘American’ view of the war with None
But The Brave; a frank, often cynical, and, badly maligned war story for
which Sinatra - top-billed - actually hangs back, playing second fiddle in a tertiary
role as the aptly named ‘Francis’ - a boozy Chief Pharmacist’s Mate, forced to
amputate the gangrenous leg of Japanese Lance Corporal, Hirano (Homare Suguro).
Wearing three hats consecutively appears to have been too much - even for
Sinatra, who acquits himself rather nicely of the wisecracking drunkard, but
fails to bring anything fresh or even vitalizing to Harold Lipstein’s gorgeous Panavision
camerawork. The picture, shot in Hawaii, evokes the sticky humid tropical splendor,
with a harrowing aerial dogfight and plane crash, and, an awe-inspiring monsoon
(shades of 1937’s The Hurricane) in miniature with special effects.
Alas, what comes in between these adventuresome moments is hamstrung by some
truly awful acting, and worse, implausible inner conflict on both sides as screenwriters,
John Twist and Katuya Susaki attempt to draw out the dissimilarities and even more
uncanny parallels between these American and Japanese fighters, trapped on a small,
forgotten isle in the middle of nowhere. While all of the Japanese players more
or less adhere to that broadly benevolent, unified brotherhood of kamikazes who
would rather die for their cause, the Americans that stumble into their midst
are curiously delineated by their disparate personalities, breeding chronic
dissidence to threaten and dissolve their chain of command.
None But The Brave is unevenly
cast. Most painful of the lot: Tommy Sands’ diminutive (98 lbs. soaking wet)
and brutally slack-jawed yokel, 2nd Lt. Blair, who barks commands in a Southern
drawl as though he were doing 3-minutes in a Warner Bros. Looney Tunes, and,
Brad Dexter’s beefy boor, Sgt. Bleeker, who initially gives every indication he
is going to be a royal pain in the ass until Capt. Dennis Bourke (Clint Walker)
knocks him silly into a recently dug shallow grave with just a single punch.
Given Clint Walker’s imposing physical stature (he stood 6 ft, 6 inches and had
impossibly muscled proportions - a 48-inch chest with a 32-inch waist – a body
he built from his own home-made gym comprised of free weights) we can almost
believe Bourke could single-handedly win the war. And Walker, apart from
his obvious musculature and raven-haired good looks, presents us with yet
another understated play against type; the introspective, noble ‘thinking man’
who only looks like a hulking, blue-eyed gorilla. Apart from the aforementioned
players, the rest of the ensemble is never allowed to distinguish itself.
Indeed, much of the supporting cast are given little more than a line or two;
the weighty focus on the gradual – if ill at ease – détente that develops
between Bourke and Tatsuya Mihashi’s Lt. Kuroki, leaving little room to
concentrate on anything except this single-premised plot - to make rescue radio
contact with the outside world.
There are a few
scenes scattered throughout None But The Brave that play with a modicum
of finesse; the best, Francis’ amputation of Hirano’s infected leg – Sinatra,
delaying the inevitable operation with at least a half-dozen good reasons why he
is not qualified to perform this risky surgery, before reluctantly illustrating
all of the preparatory necessities (sterilizing his hands and crude cutting
utensils with alcohol and an open flame) leading up to the gruesome, if life-saving
procedure. Herein, Sinatra – the director - cuts away from Sinatra – the star –
to Bourke’s reaction, hearing Hirano’s blood-curdling scream echoing through
the jungle as the amputation presumably has taken place. Sinatra maxes out this
scene for its dramatic effect. But elsewhere in the movie, he appears merely
contented to tread water, filling the picture’s run time with a lot of moving
tableau; the Panavision frame teeming with a lot of gorgeous scenery in
eye-popping Technicolor. This, in fact, does a great deal to delay our
realization there really is not much of a story here. Based on an idea from
Kikumaru Okuda, right from the outset, Sinatra departs from the norm – if only
to be different; the main titles, presented in Japanese first, Yūsha nomi (勇者のみ and loosely translated as ‘None but the brave men’) appearing in
embolden blood-red script, immediately after the Warner Bros. logo; overlaid by
its ‘English translation, ‘None But The Brave’ in pure white letters
with the red lettering bleeding through. Sinatra also has Lt. Kuroki narrate
his picture. I suppose the epilogue title – ‘Nobody ever wins’ – is meant
to be a sobering reminder, if nothing else, of Sinatra’s own liberal bias, railing
against all those Hollywood-produced, gallant WWII weepies made throughout the
1940s, romanticizing war as mankind at his most virtuous and self-sacrificing. But,
in fact, David Lean had beaten Sinatra to this punch at the conclusion of his
Oscar-winning, The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957) with a single, panged
declaration of ‘Madness! Sheer madness!’ to punctuate all the
devastation immediately preceding it. So, Sinatra’s point is moot to the, by
then, well-informed public, weaned on a decade’s worth of anti-war-themed films
since.
Immediately
following the main titles, our story begins with an English narration from Lieutenant
Kuroki. We are introduced to Kuroki proper, and his men, Sgt. Tamura (Takeshi
Katô), Lance Cpl. Hirano (Homare Suguro), Cpl. Fujimoto (Kenji Sahara), Lead
Pvt. Ando (Mashahiko Tanimura) Pvt. Arikawa (Toru Ibuki), Pvt. Okunda – the fisherman
(Ryucho Shunputei), Pvt. Tokumaru (Hisao Dazai), Pvt. Goro (Susumu Kurobe),
Pvt. Ishii (Takashi Inagaki), and Pvt. Sato (Kenichi Hata). A startling
departure for its time, the interaction between these select few is all in
Japanese with English subtitles; allowing Sinatra and his screenwriter to
explore legitimate Japanese dialects and customs in their native tongue. Only Kuroki
(who has steadfastly kept a journal for his wife) knows of their dire
situation; that, by now, even their own government has all but forsaken them. Incapable
of communicating with the outside world, Kuroki has commissioned Tokumaru to
build a boat – a task he takes on with personal pride. Despite Tamura’s oft
brutal mismanagement of the regiment, Kuroki is a patient man; kind, though
commanding. As construction of the boat
nears completion, the island is privy to an aerial dogfight between an American
C-47, an R4D transport plane and a Japanese Zero. In the ensuing battle, the
Zero and C-47 are wrecked at sea. But the R4D manages to crash land to relative
safety on the far side of the island.
Marine Aircraft
Wing Captain Dennis Bourke assumes command of the Marine platoon, stepping over
2nd Lieutenant Blair and Sergeant Bleeker’s authority. Bourke’s confidante is
Navy chief pharmacist's mate, Francis. This marooned platoon also consists of
Air Crewman Keller (Tony Bill), Cpl. Craddock (Sammy Jackson), Cpl. Ruffino
(Richard Bakalyan), Pvt. Johnson (Rafer Johnson), Pvt. Dexter (Jimmy Griffin),
Pvt. Searcy (Christopher Dark), Pvt. Hoxie (Don Dorrell), Pvt. Magee (Phil
Crosby), Pvt. Waller (Howie Young), Pvt. Swensholm (Roger Ewing) and Sinatra’s
kid, Richard as Pvt. Roth. Aside: try not to pay attention to any of these
names, as, at best they remain token testosterone, fit for the carnage that
unfolds in the last act. Indeed, None But The Brave would have been a
far more compelling movie had Sinatra telescopically focused his narrative on a
game of survival of the fittest between one or two characters from each
opposing side. But I digress. Among the
Americans, at first there seems to be a matter of opinion as to who is actually
in charge. While Blair admits to being green, he assumes he is in command until
Bourke points out that while on the plane the responsibility is purely his to
undertake. To back this claim, Bourke cites an obscure passage in the U.S.
Military handbook that even he is not sure of, and Francis, acutely aware he
has made the whole thing up, hides Blair’s rulebook from him to conceal the
truth. However, almost immediately, mounting animosity gets the better of
Bleeker, who challenges Bourke to a brawl that Bourke accepts, knocking Bleeker
into a shallow grave after he tried to sucker punch Bourke first. Having
established his authority, Bourke now instructs Crewman Keller to see if he can
fix the radio, ruined in the crash.
Under the cover
of night, Bourke stages the plane wreck with a dim light glowing from within,
staking out a few of his troops in the hills to observe the enemy’s approach.
Before long, Tamura, who is a bitter rival, and a small contingent of men,
without Kuroki’s permission, advance on the plane, tossing a hand grenade
inside. When Kuroki discovers this, he confronts Tamura. Each man is a
puzzlement to the other. Tamura insists the enemy must be flushed out and
exterminated while Kuroki reasons a truce would be more prudent. Besides,
Kuroki is genuinely concerned for Cpl. Hirano who has since contracted gangrene
in his leg from a seemingly superficial wound. In despair, Hirano attempts to
take his own life with a rifle, narrowly prevented from his suicide by Kuroki. Meanwhile,
under Bourke’s orders, Privates Johnson, Dexter and Searcy are ordered to take
the Japanese boat, recently built and moored at a makeshift dock. Bourke stakes
out the mountains to intercept any attempt by the Japanese to prevent their
plan of action. Tragically, shortly after boarding the boat, all three men are intercepted.
In the ensuing exchange of gunfire, Johnson manages to cut the mooring line,
allowing the boat to drift out to sea. Determined they should not succeed
Kuroki launches a daring attack with a hand grenade. The explosion ignites the
fragile wooden structure and Johnson, Dexter and Searcy burn to death.
Sometime later, Kuroki
brokers a truce with Bourke. Bourke would like access to Kuroki’s heavily-guarded
fresh water spring for his men. Kuroki wishes Francis’ medical aid to save
Hirano. Building up his qualifications, Bourke trades Francis’ ‘expertise’ not
only for rights to the spring, but also fresh potatoes and a share of the daily
catch of fish. Kuroki stages a ruse to suggest he has far more men at his
disposal, should the Americans plot an invasion. However, when Francis arrives
at the Japanese stronghold under escort, he finds Hirano gravely ill with fever
– the infection so far gone, amputation of the leg is the only recourse. Even
then, Francis points out to Kuroki the operation may not save Hirano’s life.
Still conscious, Hirano agrees to undergo the risky surgery anyway. After all,
he has nothing to lose. Under the most primitive of conditions, Francis successfully
cuts off Hirano’s leg. The wound heels and Hirano is restored to health. Kuroki
reasons that it is pointless to spend the duration of their time on the island
hunting one another down and proposes they live in relative harmony until such
time as their duties to the war – if rescue comes – cause them to revert to
being sworn enemies. Bourke concurs. For a brief wrinkle in time, all is well.
Francis, who has been quietly getting drunk on the medicinal alcohol, explains to
Kuroki how Bourke’s fiancée, Lorie (Laraine Stephens) was killed by a mortar
attack during Pearl Harbor – a bitter pill for Bourke to swallow, as he not
only witnessed the bomb blast, but, through a bitter disagreement, was as
instrumental in sending Lorie off in the general direction where the blast
occurred. In the spirit of openness, Kuroki now reveals particulars of his own
marriage and the girl he left behind to tend house at a quiet little cottage
near the base of Mount Fuji. As such, he has been keeping a vigilant account of
his years at war in a diary he hopes to someday share with his beloved.
A horrific monsoon
threatens base camp, forcing both sides to pool their resources in order to
weather the storm. At one point, Kuroki leaps into the roiling surf to save Blair,
who has nearly been swept away by the undertow. Meanwhile, Crewman Keller’s
tinkering with the radio results in his being able to pick up a signal from a
nearby U.S. destroyer. Signaling for rescue, this message is overheard by Kuroki,
who reasons their truce is at an end. He will not allow Bourke or his men to
leave the bulkhead alive. Bourke suggests Kuroki and his men surrender. They
will be well taken care of for the duration of the war. But Kuroki refuses. As
Bourke and his men make their way toward their rendezvous to signal the
destroyer, they are met with gun fire from Kuroki and his men. Bourke retaliates.
And although casualties are incurred on the American side, Kuroki and his men
are summarily wiped out. Francis, who
has survived the carnage, looks on with grave contempt, reasoning there was
absolutely no point saving Hirano’s life as he now lies dead next to the rest
of his fallen comrades. As Bourke prepares to signal the ship for rescue, we
hear Kuroki’s narration, pleading with his wife at home to be grateful and
understand that he made the ultimate sacrifice for his nation, realizing never
again would he return to her, or the little house near Mount Fuji where they
were once so very happy. We regress to
the same master shot of the island that opened the movie, transformed into an
impressionist painting and the words, ‘Nobody ever wins’ inscribed as a
sobering memento of these casualties of war.
None But the
Brave, while not a bad movie is not a terribly engaging one either. Sinatra’s
direction is too slow, perhaps. His star-billing leads the first-time viewer to
anticipate a far more engrossing performance immediately to follow. Sinatra
is good when he is on the screen, delivering his lines with that inimitable
world-weary candor for which Sinatra at this juncture was exceedingly well
known. We get flashes of his Maggio in From Here to Eternity (1953), and
perhaps his Tom Reynolds in Never So Few (1959). But in the end, Sinatra’s
appearance in his own movie boils down to a cameo, leaving the heavy lifting to
Clint Walker who, despite his formidable musculature is ill-received to sustain
the picture’s girth. Sinatra does manage
to draw some fascinating parallels between Walker’s Bourke and Tatsuya Mihashi’s
Lt. Kuroki. But in the end, their agreed upon détente fails to generate the
sort of caustic chemistry or even intermittent sparks that Alec Guinness and Sessue
Hayakawa had in spades in David Lean’s The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957).
And borrowing composer, Malcolm Arnold and cinematographer, Jack Hildyard –
both alumni from Lean’s anti-war picture - only serves to reinforce the fact None
But the Brave is certainly no Bridge on the River Kwai. At nearly
every turn the Twist/Susaki screenplay fails to generate enough suspense to
maintain our interest in the ongoing monotony that unfurls with devastatingly
glacial ennui. Sinatra would never
direct or produce another picture. He would, however, go on to appear in
several more memorable movies, capping off his movie career with Von Ryan’s
Express, one year later, followed by a trio of crime/thrillers (The
Detective – 1967, Tony Rome, and The Lady in Cement – both in
1968) before pretty much retiring from the picture-making biz to concentrate on
the last act of his recording career. And, despite the failings in this, his
directorial debut, it should be pointed out Frank Sinatra was a true renaissance
man and all-around entertainer: resilient, defiant, and ever the consummate
artist, the likes of which we will not likely see ever again. Deftly, and
without question, Sinatra was one of the entertainment titans of the 20th
century, who withstood the scrutiny of a very public black-balling in the late
1940’s that might otherwise have put a period to all of his aspirations. So, we
will cut ‘ole blue eyes’ some slack herein for not exactly giving us an
Oscar-winning picture. None But The Brave is for Sinatra completionists –
mostly – and, if unremarkable, then definitely still worth a second glance on
Blu-ray.
And Warner
Archive (WAC) has afforded us another gorgeous and near-perfect 1080p rendering
on home video. WAC’s commitment to classic movies on disc is commendable to say
the least. While their choice as to which deep catalog titles get such 5-star treatment
remains questionable, no one should be contesting the results. None But The
Brave sports a handsome looking hi-def transfer. The Technicolor pops as it
should. Occasionally, flesh tones can appear a tad overly orange. But this
could be the result of the actors getting too much exposure to the sun while on
location. Green foliage is vibrant and gorgeous. Fine details are exquisitely
realized and, particularly in close-up, will astound. There are no age-related
artifacts. The image is smooth and refined, with a light smattering of film
grain looking very indigenous to its source. Although there are one or two scenes that
appear slightly less refined by comparison, there is really nothing to complain
about here. The 2.0 DTS audio is a minor revelation. I am always impressed by
how good vintage mono can sound – given its traditional shortcomings and, of
course, the limitations in primitive sound recording equipment and techniques
used to record and remix these tracks. None But The Brave sounds
excellent, really showing off Malcolm Arnold’s score. The only extra is a badly
worn trailer. Bottom line: if you are a fan of this movie, this Blu-ray is a
no-brainer. A real quality affair. Judge and buy accordingly.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
3
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
0
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