Do you think that we Hollanders who threw the sea out of our country will let the Germans have it? Better the sea.
One of Our Aircraft is Missing
(1942)
Noel Coward went on to employ most of the
crew from this Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger film, following a set
visit that mightily impressed him (including editor David Lean and
cinematographer Ronald Neame). He’d have been better to just ask Powell to
direct In Which We Serve, which is
both stagey and mannered; it hasn’t aged nearly as well as Aircraft, the first production from P&P’s The Archers
production company.
The Archers was formed as a result of a bet
between Powell and cinema mogul Arthur Rank, who informed the director that the
idea was defeatist and wouldn’t sell tickets. Powell believed it would be big
success and he and Pressburger went ahead and made it under the banner of The
Archers. Of course, Powell proved to be right. And, to his credit, Rank was
forthcoming in admitting his error.
As with Coward’s film, Aircraft was made in consort with the Ministry of Information - the
British Government’s wartime propaganda department. While it is unabashedly patriotic,
Powell is far too sensitive and intelligent a filmmaker to resort wanton
jingoism or nationalistic fervour. As with the previous year’s 49th Parallel (which won
Pressburger an Oscar for its screenplay;
Aircraft had to make do with a nomination), Powell follows a downed crew
behind enemy lines. But whereas his earlier effort placed German submariners in
Canada (a bid to encourage America to join the war), here a British aircrew
bails out of their stricken bomber (B for Bertie) over the Netherlands.
There’s a straightforward, matter-of-fact
approach to the subject matter, rendering it distinct from earlier P&P collaborations.
Powell’s aim was for “complete naturalism”,
so there is no music score. They would not utilise a documentary style, rather
a “detached narrative, told from the
inside, of what it is like to be a pawn in the game of war”. The director
employs devices such as the bomber crew introducing themselves directly to
camera, conscious that this would be the first time most of the audience would
encounter the interior of a Wellington.
Which isn’t to say the result is not as
dramatically compelling as any of their previous fictional films. But they are
not aiming to replicate the heightened atmosphere of, say, The Spy in Black. While Neame’s black and white photography is
often stunning to look at, Powell is intent on suggesting a realistic tone. He
treats the story as an actual event, introducing the film with title cards
informing the viewer of reprisals taken by the German army against Dutch
civilians who helped British airmen escape back to England. The action of the
crew moving from place to place is punctuated by the sight of German
documentation granting permission to the Dutch to engage in every day
activities.
Powell thought that the opening, with the bomber
hitting power lines and exploding, would be an instant audience-grabber. What
sticks out about it now is that it’s one of the few moments where you are
conscious of the limitations of the model work; in contrast, the extended sequence
of B for Bertie bombing Stuttgart remains impressive 70 years later.
It would be a mistake to see the film simply
as a tale of plucky Brits engaging in derring-do to escape the fascist
aggressors. Aside from some fisticuffs towards the climax, the British are a
largely passive presence; it is the bravery of the Dutch underground that is
continually in focus. And their representatives are chiefly women (played by
Pamela Brown and Googie Withers, both delivering winning performances). The
crew are played by Godfrey Tearle, Eric Portman (who was one of the German
U-boat crew in 49th Parallel
), Hugh Williams, Bernard Miles (whom Coward would nab for In Which We Serve), Hugh Burden (playing the pilot and Dutch
speaker), and Emrys Jones, spend a fair bit of time debating who should be the
leader on the ground. But when it comes down to it Tearle’s WWI veteran volunteers
that Withers is their leader.
Tearle’s character of Sir George Corbett
was inspired by Sir Arnold Wilson, an MP who joined the Royal Air Force at the
age of 51; he was killed in action in 1940. It was Powell’s intention that the story
should see the crew unite under the pressure of their situation (in contrast to
the crew in 49th Parallel),
ultimately risking all to save the old codger who had initially been dismissed
as a pain in the neck. I’m not sure how strongly this theme comes across; it is
certainly much less distinct than the message concerning the efforts of the occupied
Dutch.
Of course, there are a number of speeches
during the proceedings that announce the mettle of those who would resist the
occupying forces and underline the importance of allied co-operation (the Dutch
do not have much to eat, but still, “We
can think, hope, fight”). This is, quite intentionally, a mutual
appreciation society. But Powell is not interested in presenting the Germans as
inhuman, although for most of the film they are purposefully present only on
the outskirts of the narrative. He makes a point of having Miles reminisce
about a German girlfriend during the flight out. Later, Googie shows she is not
without empathy, despite being as hard as nails.
Jo
de Vries: They’re
an unhappy people. I would rather be a Dutchman here than any German soldier.
They want to believe that somebody is their friend. And that’s the trick.
When we see some German soldiers up-close,
they are the cheerfully unthreatening occupants of the rescue buoy that the
airmen have commandeered. The use of a buoy was arrived at when P&P were
puzzling how to furnish the crew with a believable escape route; they would
surely be shot to pieces on the open sea.
While there are some tense
scenes during their escape, it’s also a remarkably smooth-running process that
has the knock-on effect of suggesting this sort of thing isn’t all that hard
(they hide from the Germans almost in plain sight, make short work of the few
who threaten them, and then just need to have a good hard row to ensure rescue
from the British Navy). While Powell’s tone may suggest the factual, you’re
nevertheless conscious of how genteel and civil all the exchanges are (the
closest to frostiness is from Brown, suspecting that the crew may be Germans,
positioned to entrap the Dutch).
Powell’s such a fine director that even a
film made under the auspices of the war effort appears more insightful and
balanced than much of the fare made during subsequent decades. The following
year, P&P would hit a stride of greatness that would continue for nearly a
decade, beginning with The Life and Death
of Colonel Blimp. It was a film that would incur Churchill’s disapproval
and would take as its central theme the friendship between a German and a
British army officer over the course of three conflicts. Made at the height of
the Second World War.
Aircraft was the first film role for the positively skinny Peter Ustinov,
who plays a priest. Also appearing is the strikingly featured Robert Hepmann as
German collaborator. A ballet dancer, he would go on to star in both The Red Shoes and The Tales of Hoffman for Powell. But he’s probably most
recognisable for causing many a youngster nightmares as the Child Catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
****