Bitter Victory (1957)
Directed by Nicholas Ray

Film Review

Bitter Victory is Nicholas Ray's Heart of Darkness.  The most resoundingly pessimistic of his films it makes an unbearably grim assessment of human nature, with a directness and restraint that are typical of Ray. The film was adapted from the René Hardy's French novel Amère victoire and is anything but a conventional war film.  It would be so easy to pin the epithet 'anti-war film' on it but this is far too simplistic and fails to do justice to the film's complexity.  (Ray himself denied that it was an anti-war film.)  Bitter Victory may be set in WWII, it may present, in harrowing detail, the kind of military exploit that was prevalent in that war, but what it is really about is not the bloody conflict between armies but the more fiercesome inner struggle within a man, the acceptance or denial of responsibility when confronted with life-and-death choices.

By this stage in his career, Ray was a bitter and disillusioned man.  It was his disgust with the Hollywood system that made the prospect of directing this predominantly French-financed film so attractive.  Bitter Victory, he was convinced, would be his film, and no pig-headed, profit-conscious studio mogul was going to take it away from him, as had recently happened on The True Story of Jesse James (1957). The film's title was to prove singularly apt.  Although Bitter Victory was to be Ray's finest film, acclaimed by those European critics such as Jean-Luc Godard who regarded him as a shining example of the film auteur, it was to be yet another fraught production, with producer Paul Graetz proving every bit as uncompromising and controlling as those stiff-necked studio execs with whom Ray had run into conflict back in Hollywood.  Graetz not only overruled Ray's casting decisions (Ray had wanted Montgomery Clift and Richard Burton for the roles of Leith and Brand respectively; he ended up with Burton playing Leith and Curd Jürgens as Brand), he also instigated several changes to the screenplay.  Once more, Ray's artistic instincts were to be compromised by relentless interference from above.

Given the unhappy nature of the production, with Ray and his producer behaving more like the leaders of two warring factions rather than collaborators on the same venture, it is amazing the film holds up as well as it does.  The casting may not have been what Ray would have wanted but the performances are impeccable - surely there was no actor on the planet who was better suited to play the innately cynical Leith than Richard Burton.  Almost every line that Burton utters has a searing truth about it that stings like acid, and the bitterly corrosive effect of his words is palpably seen in Jürgens' equally nuanced performance as the conscience-stricken Brand. As well-choreographed and exciting as the action scenes are these cannot compete with the blistering intensity and ferocity of the psychological duel that Burton and Jürgens' characters submit to as their mutual loathing turns into a private war that is every bit as real as the fight against Fascism. 

Greatly helped by Michel Kelber's sterling work on the cinematography front, Ray brings an unbearably oppressive feel to his film, a sense of abject desolation that intensifies with a remorseless tread as the protagonists' personal feud builds to its gripping climax.  In one unforgettable scene, Burton's character has to decide whether to put a pair of mortally wounded soldiers out of their misery.  When, after an excruciating moment of introspection, Leith finally shoots dead one of the soldiers, you feel that you, the spectator, were the one who pulled the trigger, such is the incredible power of Burton's performance and Ray's flawless rendering of a crucial scene.  Equally inspired is the ending, which, with breathtaking simplicity, hits you in the face with the bleakest summation of human frailty.  As Brand is left to contemplate the utter meaninglessness of his own personal victory, so we are left with a sickening realisation of the futility of all conflict.  War is not a solution, it is a childish refuge for those who lack the courage and imagination to see things differently.

After the bitter experience of Bitter Victory Nicholas Ray's career as a filmmaker was all but over.  His subsequent Biblical epic King of Kings (1961) turned a handsome profit but, for all its grandeur, it is far from being his best work.  Disillusionment with a system he had grown tired of fighting, coupled with a chronic addiction to drink and narcotics, made Ray an increasingly marginal figure in his later years.  Yet, since his death in 1979, he has come to be regarded as one of the most important and inspired American film directors of his generation, a major influence on not just the French New Wave but independent filmmakers around the world since.   Ray's ultimate victory should be anything but bitter.

Film Synopsis

During WWII, two British army officers stationed in Cairo are selected to lead a commando raid on German headquarters in Benghazi and steal some vital documents.  The two officers - the South African Major David Brand and Welshman Captain James Leith - could hardly be more different but their complementary skills should ensure a successful outcome.  Leith's knowledge of the region and ability to speak Arabic will be invaluable to Brand, the higher ranking and more experienced soldier.  Even before the men have embarked on their mission they come into conflict when Brand discovers that his wife Jane was once Leith's lover.  During the raid in Benghazi Brand soon has another reason to hate and mistrust Leith.  When he is unable to bring himself to kill a German sentry Leith has to do the job for him.  Having obtained the documents, the unit takes flight across the desert.  Now the real battle must begin...