FROM HERE TO ETERNITY: Blu-ray (Columbia, 1953) Sony Home Entertainment

In 1980, 4-time Oscar-winning director, Fred Zinnemann sat down with a ‘young’ Hollywood Turk to begin negotiations on the last movie project he would helm – 1982’s Five Days, One Summer. When the skeptical executive openly confessed to knowing nothing about Zinnemann’s career, then rather insensitively requested a list of his credentials, Zinnemann merely smiled, sat back and replied, “Sure…you first!” Zinnemann could afford to be glib. By then, he was one of the most respected craftsmen in the industry with an impressive body of work: High Noon (1952), The Nun’s Story (1959) and A Man For All Seasons (1966) among his very best. Most of Zinnemann’s movies, particularly those from his mid to later career – even his one and only musical (Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Oklahoma! 1955) – are edifices to human complexity, made to illuminate the darkness that collectively haunts us from within. His characters are oft plagued by self-doubt or self-pity, exhibit some form of anti-social behavior, are prevented from ripening into maturity by some misguided notion or conflicted loyalties, and, find very little – if any – solace in their romantic alliances. Character-driven, occasionally wordy, generally articulate and always entertaining, Zinnemann’s storytelling prowess is telescopically focused on getting to the heart of his characters. Plot is, of course, essential to this dramatic arc. But the narrative trajectory is propelled forward, more by the emotional content of the people who populate these narrative landscapes, than by any connective tissue from points ‘A’ to ‘B’ in the plot itself.

From today’s impatient vantage, Zinnemann’s approach to storytelling can occasionally teeter on the brink of becoming preachy, although it never quite crosses this line - perhaps because his actors do more emoting than talking to get their points across. And Zinnemann, finds interesting ways for his characters to reveal themselves through subtler nuances and moments of silence. Finally, Zinnemann is unapologetic about the obscurer side to humanity that most of us would like to keep hidden from public view. Yet, Zinnemann’s movies do not revel in revealing humanity at its ugliest (a popular mode of expression in cinema today). Rather, he explores the truer mettle of character through inner turmoil – the quality of an individual in constant flux – but with a fervent desire to explore the better part of this moral compass and social conscience in a very honest, and at times, sobering light.  Zinnemann’s movies endure today, primarily because they just seem to be happening for real – if only, in reel time; the artifice, high key-lit cinematography, and lavishly appointed production design, simultaneously at odds yet complimenting the director’s no-nonsense critiques. There is a quality of genuineness in Zinnemann’s best movies that, while decidedly manufactured never appears as much, nor seems strained or wanting for something astute and revealing to say.

For its unruffled depiction of army life, its even grittier view of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and particularly, for its frank, though arguably never titillating glimmers of salacious sex and brutality, From Here To Eternity (1953) stands head and shoulders above most any vintage war-themed melodrama. Today, it remains a powerful indictment of conflict – from within and without – the more lurid moments in James Jones’ novel (including the inference, one of its principle players, Maggio is a gay hustler) tempered, though never blunting the impact of the story. From Here To Eternity is just one of those movies blessed with a stellar cast of screen archetypes – cardboard cutouts, immeasurably fleshed out by some truly inspired performances from Burt Lancaster - as stern, but ever-moral, First Sergeant Milton Warden, Deborah Kerr (sultry and seductive Karen Holmes), Frank Sinatra (ill-fated Maggio), Montgomery Clift’s introverted pacifist - Robert E. Lee Prewitt and Ernest Borgnine, as thuggish Staff Sergeant James R. ‘Fatso’ Judson.

Even the war pales to the incendiary action we get behind the scenes and between the sheets; the movie’s most iconic image, a husky Lancaster in tight bathing trunks, newly risen from out of the sea, passionately falling on top of his undulant paramour as a new surge of foam crashes against their entwined bodies. The passion here is raw, and of the tawdry promiscuous ilk; Zinnemann laying bare the masks people wear in their everyday lives, merely to cope with the realities that surround them. Zinnemann might as well have been cribbing from his own personal wellspring; silent anguish at the loss of both parents during the Nazi holocaust, and, having endured numerous creative setbacks early on in his fledgling career. Such hardships build character – such as it is, or so they say. But they also serve to better inform Zinnemann’s perspective on the screen, and, most definitely dictated the kinds of movies he was compelled to make. From Here To Eternity’s realism is unquestioningly heightened by its theater of war backdrop and the audience’s post-war knowledge of events already relegated to the annals of time itself. Yet, From Here to Eternity is the first post-war ‘war’ movie to directly address the cataclysm that was Pearl Harbor head on.  And Zinnemann never shies from giving us the tragedy full scale, miraculously, without the gratuitousness present-day Hollywood so loves to wallow in – more blood, and guts and bodies strewn across the land and sea. The last third of From Here To Eternity is largely devoted to the unvarnished nightmare that follows the attack: Hollywood’s usual ‘glamorized’ depictions of heroism brought into stark focus with personalized chaos factored in; each character trapped in their isolated thoughts, yet forced to partake in this percolating ensemble moment of truth on which world history will pivot. 

From Here To Eternity is also notable for the resurrection of Frank Sinatra’s sagging post-MGM career. Sinatra had begun his meteoric rise as the swing band crooner in the thirties. Worshiped by the bobbysoxer sect, who swooned to hear him sing, Sinatra was to parlay this fame into a brief, though exceptionally lucrative movie career as the beloved scrawny sidekick to Gene Kelly’s beefy all-American. Alas, by 1950, Sinatra was in a very bad way. His foray into a weekly television variety show had been a disaster. His longstanding alliances with Columbia Records and MCA was canceled shortly thereafter. And many forget that Sinatra attempted suicide after nearly a two-year absence from recording and movie-making. In both cases, the hiatus had been imposed rather than self-inflicted; Sinatra’s vocal chords hemorrhaging on stage at the Copacabana in 1950; his MGM contract lapsing that same year. Although Sinatra would return to MGM for several memorable screen outings, including The Tender Trap (1955) and High Society (1956) he did so as an ‘independent’ on a picture-by-picture basis, rather than as an MGM contract player. The wheel had turned in other ways too. Sinatra was older now and, in the intervening years, other younger ‘heartthrobs’ had risen through the ranks to eclipse his popularity with teenagers. And Sinatra’s notoriety as a carousing womanizer, coupled with rumors he was mobbed up to his teeth, had given him a black eye in the business – by 1953. As such, Sinatra was hardly ‘numero uno’ hot stuff at the time he was cast in From Here To Eternity.

Zinnemann had adamantly opposed Sinatra’s involvement, believing the public’s expectations would be to hear him sing at least one song in the movie – a notion Zinnemann absolutely refused to entertain. In fact, Eli Wallach was set for the part, despite Sinatra’s frequent attempts to make his interests known. In the eleventh hour, Wallach bowed out to fulfill a Broadway commitment and Columbia boss, Harry Cohn convinced Sinatra to ‘test’ for the role; the sequence where Sinatra improvises dice from a pair of olives, ultimately becoming part of Maggio’s shtick in the finished film. It also convinced Zinnemann that perhaps his snap judgment about Sinatra’s talents had been hasty.  Sinatra was known for his occasionally volatile temperament – particularly when he had little respect for his directors. In this instance, Zinnemann had nothing to fear; Sinatra, falling into line to give what is, arguably, the performance of his dramatic career – a mesmerizing compendium of despondent jollity, immensely touching and poetically vibrant. Viewing From Here to Eternity today, one is dumbstruck by how shockingly good Sinatra is in it. If Sinatra prove a pussy cat, the ferocity of co-stars, Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster on-screen affair spilled over into their private lives, forcing Zinnemann to play ring master in a cover-up to keep the press at bay. Each star was married at the time. As Kerr’s career was made playing variations on the demure English rose - oft cast as a symbol of purity - From Here to Eternity was a departure from this studio-concocted image. Indeed, Kerr’s Karen generates an incendiary flame of naughty passion.

Our story begins in 1941 with the arrival of bugler/private, Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) at Fort Shafter. Prewitt is an odd duck. He gave up his Corporal’s stripes to be just another rifleman at Schofield Barracks on the Hawaiian isle of Oahu. However, Prewitt’s reputation as a talented middleweight pugilist has preceded him. Captain Dana ‘Dynamite’ Holmes (Philip Ober) aggressively pursues Prewitt to join their regimental boxing team. But even the enticement of a promotion to Corporal - or even Sergeant – is not enough to convince Prewitt to step into the ring again. He has quit boxing after a fight left his sparring partner, Dixie Wells permanently blinded. Holmes, competitive to a fault, is wholly unsympathetic to Prewitt’s pacifist’s attitude – what, with a trophy at stake. Instead, he sets about making army life pure hell for his new recruit in order to break his resolve. Nevertheless, Prewitt’s spirit is not so easily bent.  An insidious plot gets underway when Holmes orders First Sergeant Milton Warden (Burt Lancaster) to prepare court martial papers; this after Sergeant Ike Galovitch (John Dennis), under Holmes orders, attempts to get Prewitt to perform a task that he refuses to complete. Prewitt will not bend to Galovitch, nor will he apologize for his actions. To spare Prewitt his discharge, Warden convinces Holmes to double up on his company punishment instead. While virtually all of the other non-commissioned officers passively partake in this conspiracy, Private Angelo Maggio (Frank Sinatra) befriends and sticks up for Prewitt.

Warden is, in fact too busy igniting the embers of an affair with Holmes’ neglected wife, Karen to really care about Prewitt’s treatment; the illicit couple’s passionate pas deux on a beach ending with Karen’s declaration that “she never knew love could be like this.” All evidence to the contrary, after Sergeant Maylon Stark (George Reeves) informs Warden that Karen was well known at Fort Bliss for her casual trysts with many men on the base - including him. Warden’s emotions run deep. Although he cannot bring himself to confess as much, he has fallen madly for Karen. He is also concerned for more obvious reasons. Discovery of their affair could land him a twenty-year sentence in Leavenworth. But Karen seems to have had a change of heart. She confides her own, as well as her husband’s, infidelities to Warden; her sob story of a miscarriage after learning of Holmes’ first affair, resulting in being unable to bear any more children. This thread of willful self-destructiveness in casual sexual liaisons is further magnified by Prewitt and Maggio’s liberty spent at the New Congress, a gentlemen's watering hole (nee whorehouse) where Prewitt meets and falls for saucy prostitute, Lorene (Donna Reed).

It seems Lorene’s enterprising escapades are predicated on a more heartfelt altruism; to earn enough money to buy her mother a house. She was a good girl – once – dumped by a wealthy beau in Seattle and scorned to the point of revenge for a while. But now, Lorene is genuinely attracted to Prewitt and not so far gone down the rabbit hole of her chosen profession to still believe real love might be possible. It’s a tough sell for this hardened heart. But Lorene is willing to take a chance. Prewitt confides the reason he refuses to box for his company; because he blinded Dixie Wells in the ring. Meanwhile Maggio encounters Staff Sergeant of the guard at the stockade, James R. Judson (Ernest Borgnine). The two nearly come to blows over Judson’s piano playing before Prewitt intervenes. Judson is a sadist and a brute, exploiting his authority to pummel prisoners.  Later, when Judson sees Maggio holding a photograph of his sister, he hits upon the idea of goading Maggio into a fight by making vulgar overtures. Maggio responds by smashing a bar stool over Judson’s head and Judson pulls a switchblade on him, intent on finishing the job with relish. But Warden, who has been sitting in a corner, intervenes at the last possible moment, callously telling Judson that a murder would just ‘create two weeks of needless paperwork’ for him. Judson pretends to withdraw, then advances on Warden; the brawl averted only after Warden uses a jagged broken beer bottle as a weapon, glibly replying, “Killers, huh! I'd trade the pair of you for a good Camp Fire girl.”

From Here To Eternity’s linchpin is undeniably its flawed ro/bro-mances; Karen’s passionate, yet repeatedly thwarted desire to leave her husband and wed Warden; Prewitt’s loner, who discovers more sadness than satisfaction from his army buddies, though arguably even more so when in the arms of Lorene; Warden’s blind admiration for Prewitt’s staunch defiance of Holmes (of course, exaggerated by his own contempt for Holmes’ neglect of Karen), Lorene’s genuine love for Prewitt (after she has effectively sworn off all men), and finally, Maggio’s deep regards for Prewitt (absent of the novel’s homo-erotic connotations – they’re just good friends). This latter alliance causes a lapse in judgment, directly contributing to Maggio’s death.  Interestingly, the dramatic arc of Jones’ novel is more concerned with the culmination of activity leading up to the ill-fated attack on Pearl Harbor. In tweaking the story to focus more centrally on its characters’ problematic relationships, screenwriter Daniel Taradash fills the movie’s run time with superior melodrama. This captures the essential flavor of the book while working more efficiently within the constraints of the traditional Hollywood narrative.

As their love affair progresses Karen attempts to convince Warden he should become an officer. As one, she could openly divorce Holmes to marry him without any fear of reprisals. But Warden is hardly keen on the idea, not because he doesn’t love Karen, but rather because his glimpse into the lives of his superiors has not been particularly flattering. In the meantime, Prewitt is given a weekend pass to pursue Lorene. He finds her at the club, and later, takes her to a nearby bar for a drink, regaling her with his pride and joy – a bugle mouthpiece he used to play Taps at Arlington National Cemetery on Armistice Day. The coziness of this penultimate ‘cute meet’ is interrupted by Maggio who, joyously drunk, has gone A-wall and deserted his post. Lorene and Prewitt decide to help Maggio get back to the barracks. Alas, it is too late. Military Police arrive and apprehend Maggio. He is sentenced to six months in the stockade: the chance Judson has been waiting for since their first encounter.  A crisis arises after Sergeant Galovitch picks a fight with Prewitt while on yard detail. Prewitt refuses to fight Galovitch, but then elects to teach him a lesson. While the rest of the men gather to witness the spectacle; Holmes quietly observes the fight from a distance. Prewitt pummels Galovitch – the inevitable knockout thwarted after Holmes interrupts the fight. Galovitch tries to blame Prewitt. Holmes is all too eager to reprimand Prewitt again, that is, until one of the soldiers points the finger of blame at Galovitch instead. With too many eye-witnesses this time, Holmes elects to let Galovitch off the hook with barely a warning. Nevertheless, the entire incident has been observed by the base commander who, having unearthed the truth about Holmes, orders him to resign his commission for the good of the service.  The next day Holmes' replacement, Captain G.R. Ross (John Bryant) reproofs the men involved, demoting Galovitch to private and placing him in charge of the latrine. Ross strips the offices of all of their framed boxing photos and trophies, openly declaring that “from now on no man's going to earn his stripes by boxing.”

That evening, Maggio manages a daring escape from the stockade, dying in Prewitt’s arms after regaling him with the heinous torture he has endured at Judson’s hand. Bitter and angry, Prewitt plays Taps for Maggio, then accosts Judson with the same switchblade Judson drew on Maggio in the Officer’s Club. In the ensuing struggle, Prewitt murders Judson, but not before sustaining a serious wound to the stomach. Prewitt skulks off to Lorene’s apartment where she gingerly tends to his wounds. But when the Japanese attack, Prewitt struggles to return to base camp under the cover of night. He is shot dead by a sentry and Warden, identifying the body with bittersweet emotion, declares “He was a good soldier. He loved the army more that any soldier I ever knew.” With Holmes’ resignation, Karen is required to return to the mainland. Discovering that Warden has failed to apply for his officer’s status, Karen bitterly accepts that their affair has run its course. As fate would have it, Karen and Lorene meet aboard a ship bound for the United States, Karen tossing a pair of leis into the water and explaining that if they float to shore, the legend says they will return someday. But Lorene declares she will never see Pearl Harbor again. She then tells Karen of Prewitt’s fate, saying “He was awarded the Silver Star. They sent it to his mother. She wrote me. She wanted me to have it. They are very fine people, Southern people. He was named after a general. Robert E. Lee Prewitt.” Recognizing the name from her conversations with Warden, Karen makes a half-hearted attempt at comforting Lorene as she holds Prewitt’s treasured bugle mouthpiece in her hands.

Nominated for a staggering 12 Academy Awards (and winning 8), From Here To Eternity is a landmark achievement, the opus magnum, putting a distinct period to all those glamorous early post-war ‘war’ pictures. It is a poignantly crafted and expertly played with a mostly unvarnished view of conflict and the heavy fallout incurred from not just the ‘direct hit’ but the sidelines as well. Burnett Guffey’s Oscar-winning B&W cinematography creates a strangely oppressive landscape, the lush Hawaiian backdrops full of foreboding.  Zinnemann never forgets he is telling a very adult story with sincerely adult themes. His characters transgress away from Hollywood’s traditionally ascribed and clear-cut good vs evil. Instead, we are introduced to people for whom tonal gray is as popular at typifying their moral compass as their attitudes.  From Here To Eternity just feels like a testament of truth, ripped from the headlines, the audience, at last, allowed to read a lot more between the proverbial lines. Zinnemann makes no judgment calls on the behavior of these participants. Rather, he provides ample setting for each to play out his or her frank, no-nonsense part in the kinetic makeup of these colliding lives.

A pluperfect movie deserves as stunning a Blu-ray, and From Here To Eternity receives exactly this from Sony Home Entertainment. This is an immaculate presentation, with pitch perfect tonality, exceptional clarity, deep velvety blacks, crisp whites and moderately heavy grain reproduction. Overall image clarity is razor sharp. We get minute detail in hair and fabrics, even granules of sand and blades of grass. The ‘wow’ factor is evidence in virtually every frame. There are a few very brief instances where the image slips into softness.  Otherwise, this is a reference quality rendering, sure to please.  The DTS 5.1 audio subtly enhances the original mono mix with unexpected spatial separation between dialogue and effects. Now, for the bad news. The extra features are disappointing to say the least. We get the same old audio commentary that accompanied Sony’s DVD. Someone at Sony should reassess what is meant by including the virtually non-existent and, frankly embarrassing, nine-minute gloss-over, billed as a ‘making of’. This inconsequential fluff piece cannot even be called a featurette. It’s awful. I also have a gripe about the new picture-in-picture option. I was able to get the picture part alright, but had no audio to accompany it. After going through six discs at my local retailer we discovered together that none of them seemed to play this option correctly. Just how widespread this glitch is, remains open for discussion. But I certainly hope Sony gets a clue and corrects it before any more copies are shipped out. Bottom line: From Here To Eternity is a masterpiece. While I sincerely support the quality of Sony’s efforts on this transfer, I have to say I was extremely disappointed by the dearth of extras – especially for a multi-Oscar winner! And note to Grover Crisp whose unimpeachable ‘asset management’ has been a credit to the Columbia catalog of yore. If you are planning a ‘Columbia Classics’ in 4K Volume 2 – please include From Here To Eternity, along with George Steven’s The Talk of the Town as part of those offerings. Enough said. Recommended, but with caveats.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

1