THE BRIDGES AT TOKO-RI: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1954) Kino Lorber
A movie more to denote the end of
an era in widescreen projection over at Paramount Pictures (shortly to switch
over to their patented ‘hi-fidelity’ mode of picture presentation –
VistaVision), and, in fact, one of the
best pictures about the human casualties of any war, director, Mark
Robson’s The Bridges at Toko-Ri (1954) aligns four major stars of the
first magnitude – William Holden, Fredric March, Mickey Rooney and Grace Kelly –
in a blistering Technicolor package, shot ‘mostly’ on location, with convincing
miniatures and, some ‘less than’ matte process work subbing in for the rest. Prior to WWII, the American film industry
deemed it their responsibility to provide rank escapism to the paying public,
albeit, produced on home-grown turf in a controlled atmosphere. However, as the
guns fell silent, Hollywood began to realize something had changed. Audiences were
demanding something ‘more’ from their entertainments. Not just ‘realism’, to give
‘escapism’ a real/reel run for its money. But studios now were obliged to
consider telling their tales in the actual places where they were reported to
have occurred. As example, the Parisian artifice that had satisfied in Vincente
Minnelli’s Oscar-winning An American in Paris in 1951, would not stand
for at least establishing shots lensed for MGM’s soapy melodrama, The Last
Time I Saw Paris (1954), barely made 3 years later, and could not even be
considered for Gigi (1958), Minnelli’s other Oscar-winning, champagne
cocktail musical, photographed nearly in its entirety abroad.
For The Bridges of Toko-Ri, Robson
– a director of merit since his mid-forties’ work in the Val Lewton ‘horror’
cycle at RKO – undertook to remain exceedingly faithful to author, James A. Michener
novella from whence Valentine Davies’ screenplay was based. It also should be
noted, Michener was not exactly known for concision in his writing. His Tales
of the South Pacific (later to be musically transformed by Rodgers and
Hammerstein, simply as Broadway’s – and later, film’s South Pacific)
clocks in at a colossal 348 pages (enough for 3 musicals), while Michener’s Hawaii
is a staggering 1136 pages in girth, made into a mighty 189-minute
spectacle for the screen in 1966. So, a bit of creative pruning on Davies’ part
was essential to distill Toko-Ri’s 147 pages of prose into 102-minutes
of meaningful reflection, action and drama. Michener based his novella on American bombing
missions against the railway bridges at Majon-ni and Samdong-ni in North Korea.
To suggest Michener’s prose oft ‘borrowed’ from the historical record, with
only a thin veneer separating truth from his ‘artistic license’ is a bit much.
But Michener drew inspiration for his fictional counterpoints from actual
members of the U.S. Armed Forces. For Navy Lieutenant Harry Brubaker (nobly
filled out by Bill Holden in this movie) Michener chose Lieutenant Donald S.
Brubaker, who similarly was a Naval Reservist recalled to active duty aboard
USS Valley Forge. Michener’s template for Admiral Tarrant (played by Fredric
March) was Rear Admiral John Perry, the carrier division’s commander, who also
served as Robson’s technical advisor, while the more flamboyant CPO, Mike
Forney (Mickey Rooney at his most affective) was based on Chief (NAP) Duane
Thorin, right down to Forney’s insistence on the wearing of the green while he
flew his missions.
For 36-yr.-old, William Holden, The
Bridges of Toko-Ri marked yet another proud contribution in a decisive
decade that only fifteen years earlier had been in danger of ending before it could
begin when Holden, then 21, was nearly fired from the boxing lead of Golden
Boy (1939), the movie to mark his debut. Alas, a fallow period followed. Holden
would not make another screen splash until 1950’s Sunset Boulevard – ultimately
to earn him the respect of his peers, lionizing his fame and popularity with audiences. If Holden’s success, by 1954, symbolized the
promise of a new rising talent in Hollywood, co-stars, Fredric March and Mickey
Rooney decidedly represented the old home guard. March, whose heyday had him
pegged as a matinee idol, because of his striking profile, but whose enviable
credits came to include such striking depictions as the definitive Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde (1931), and devastating drunkard in the original A Star is
Born (1937), suggested so much more, was, by 1954, entering the emeritus
years of his career, cast opposite Holden earlier this same year in MGM’s
impressive drama, Executive Suite. He would go on to strike indelible
impressions for some time hereafter, though curiously, to be somewhat
chronically typecast as either disreputable or morally weak/misguided figures,
destined to fail.
However, none of the male talent on
tap in this picture could rival Mickey Rooney, either for longevity or
diversity in past performances. Today, Rooney – a veteran of 300 movies
(comparatively speaking, to March’s 82, and Holden’s 71) – is oft misplaced in
the pantheon of all-time cinema treasures, simply as a diminutive powerhouse - ‘half’
of the Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland run of highly successful Metro musicals that
did much to advance Garland’s career beyond her costar by the late 1940’s,
though nevertheless, almost exclusively and hermetically confine it to the
musical pantheon. Mickey Rooney? He could do it all. From playing the beloved ‘every
teen’ in MGM’s Andy Hardy film franchise, to a ruthless, soon-to-be reformed
scrapper opposite Spencer Tracy in 1938’s Boy’s Town or immersed as Mark
Twain’s iconic ragamuffin, in 1939’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,
or even as Mi - the sly horse trainer, guiding a very young Elizabeth Taylor to
victory in National Velvet (1944), Rooney’s extraordinary talent, not to
mention his rare gifts for impersonation and lampoon, were to earn him the #1
spot as America’s most popular star from 1939 to 1941, years in which he
outshone even Spencer Tracy and Clark Gable in the public’s estimation.
We have yet to embrace the sublime Grace
Kelly, perhaps underused, though never underwhelming as Brubaker’s noble and
concerned wife, Nancy. Kelly, whose irrefutable patrician beauty made her a
decorous appendage to most any cast, also proved to be one hell of a good actress
besides. She entered film lore in 1951, appearing in some of the most
noteworthy and high-profile movies from the early to mid-fifties, before ‘unofficially’
retiring to wed Prince Rainer of Monaco in 1956 (after only 11 movies, and, at
the tender age of 26). Aside: nice work, if you can get it! Kelly’s performance
in The Bridges at Toko-Ri is one of sustained compassion. In an era (the
button-down conservatism of the fifties) and a genre (the Hollywood war movie
was not exactly open to female stars), unfriendly to women who could respect
themselves as much as they presumably respected their men, Grace Kelly emerges
as a deliciously frank and unvarnished woman of conscience. Even when wearing
presumably limited make-up, as she does in one ‘shocking’ bedroom exchange with
her screen hubby (shocking for its time, as both Kelly and William Holden are
seen lying together in a double bed…when even married couples were expected to
sleep apart on the screen), Kelly exudes a rare luminosity. Her
Catholic-bred/Philly-born demureness is likely what made this moment quite
unlike any other exchange between a ‘cool/sexy’ blonde and her screen boy toy
gone before or after her, and very likely, made it permissible under the
watchful eye of the censors and League of Decency.
Valentine Davies’ screenplay
introduces us to all the principle cast almost immediately following the main
titles. First on the docket, U.S. Navy Lieutenant, Harry Brubaker, a naval reserve
officer and aviator recalled into action during the Korean War. Incurring battle
damage, Brubaker ditches his plane into the sea and is promptly rescued by a
Sikorsky HO3S-1 manned by Chief Petty Officer (NAP) Mike Forney and Airman
(NAC) Nestor Gamidge (the ever-dependable Earl Holliman). Forney is frowned
upon for his frequent brawling, also his wearing of the Irish green as a symbol
of hope to downed pilots. Back aboard
the USS Savo Island, Brubaker learns from Rear Admiral Tarrant he is being
recalled to remain in the fight a little longer. Brubaker is not at all
pleased. But Tarrant takes great pride in him, as the son he lost in a previous
battle. To lessen the blow, Brubaker is given a three-days shore leave in Tokyo
where he is reunited with his wife, Nancy and their two children. Alas, the détente
is short-lived when Gamidge pleads with Brubaker to bail Forney from the brig
after yet another brawl. It seems Forney regards Kimiko (Keiko Awaji) a dance
hall hostess at the ‘Showboat’ – a popular watering hole for the navy – as his
personal property, repeatedly becoming jealous when she prefers the company of
other men.
Nancy is bewildered by the request
until Tarrant explains how Forney saved Brubaker from freezing to death at sea.
Tarrant also clarifies for Nancy that immediately following their brief respite,
Brubaker is expected to lead a squadron to take out the bridges at Toko-Ri. Brubaker
flies as wingman for Commander Wayne Lee (Charles McGraw) on a reconnaissance
to photograph the bridges in advance of the actual bombing raid. However, as Lee
briefs his other pilots, Brubaker loses his nerve. Still, dignity and honor
will not allow him to quit the mission. Instead, he writes a final letter to
his wife and embarks upon this suicide flight into hell. Meanwhile, Forney is
exiled to a helicopter scow. As he departs the ship, Forney instills a bit of
badly needed courage into Brubaker. Alas, in the attack on the bridges, antiaircraft
fire mortally wounds Brubaker’s jet. Though he successfully crash-lands in a
nearby vacant field, assault from Korean ground troops results in the death of Gamidge
(who is brutally shot while exiting the helicopter), Forney (who throws himself
on an open grenade) and, Brubaker, in a hailstorm of bullets from all fronts. Angered
by the news of Brubaker's loss in particular, Tarrant demands an explanation
from Commander Lee. In reply, Lee reminds Tarrant, that despite these
casualties, their mission was successful. Recognizing the truth in this
statement, Tarrant inquires, “Where do we get such men?”
The finale to The Bridges at
Toko-Ri is a sobering epitaph about the reality of war that, only a few
brief years prior, would have been abhorrent for any movie mogul to put on the
screen. Although Michener did base the climax of his novella on actual events,
the soldiers in life, though downed, were spared death and taken as POWs. Also,
the real attack on the bridges did not come from the air, as the McDonnell F2H
Banshee fighter-bombers did not possess the capacity for heavy aerial bombs. Oh
well, it’s Hollywood. A bit of drama is required. Nevertheless, the navy was
very much impressed with the screenplay submitted for their consideration,
allowing director, Mark Robson unprecedented access to their aircraft carriers
and other military instillations to shoot second unit footage, skillfully edited
into the final film. Important to note, the stars never actually went to Korea
or Tokyo – a cost-cutting measure from Paramount, occasionally exposed by a
handful of ‘less than convincing’ process shots. The Bridges at Toko-Ri
was a magnificent success for Paramount. Viewed today, much of it still holds
up. Dramatically, the picture is on very solid ground. Valentine Davies’
screenplay makes subtle points about the residual fallout of America’s
engagement in wars it ‘perhaps’ has no place to be, but otherwise, concentrates
on crafting a wonderful narrative buoyed by its male camaraderie.
For decades, The Bridges of
Toko-Ri has only been available on home video in contrasty, open-aperture
reincarnations belying its original Technicolor brilliance. While the picture
was originally photographed open matte, in select theaters to be masked and
projected in 1.85:1, with cinematographer, Loyal Griggs shooting more space
both on top and bottom to accommodate theaters yet to convert their screens to
the ‘then’ burgeoning new-fangled widescreen aspect ratio, the movie was always
intended to be seen at 1.85:1. And now, it can be experienced that way. And
what a breathtaking presentation this is from Kino Lorber. Remastered from a
new 4K scan off an original negative, what is here is mostly stunning. A few
shots are soft, and some of the matte process work still looks scruffy
around the edges. But, on the whole, what is here is meant to impress – and does,
in spades.
Colors are robust and satisfy. Flesh
tones tend to skew a little to the orange palette, particularly Bill Holden. I
haven’t done my research here, but given Holden was an outdoorsman in his spare
time, this could just be a real tan lending his skin its ruddy brownish
complexion. Contrast is uniformly excellent with deep, rich blacks. Fine
details abound and film grain appears satisfyingly in check, with only a few
moments where it tends to look clumpy and slightly out of whack (mostly, again,
during process shots). For a movie just shy of its 70th anniversary,
and not given a full-blown restoration, the results here are nothing to
complain about and should be a revelation to those only familiar with this
movie from badly worn TV prints or as badly bungled ‘previous’ home video
releases on various formats prior to Blu-ray. The 2.0 DTS mono sounds solid, if
limited, with crisp dialogue and SFX that are well-integrated. The only extra
here, besides a theatrical trailer, is an audio commentary from historians,
Steve Mitchell and Steven Jay Rubin. Occasionally, it meanders. But otherwise,
there are some interesting little nuggets to be gleaned. Bottom line: while not
as well-remembered as some other war-time film fare, The Bridges of Toko-Ri
is certainly worthy of your time and coin. The image quality on this new-to-Blu
from Kino Lorber is expertly handled. Highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
4
EXTRAS
1
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