The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)

"You laugh at my big belly but you don't know how I got it! You laugh at my mustache but you don't know why I grew it!"

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp was the first true classic that came out of the fruitful partnership of Michael Powell, who took up directing responsibilities, and Emeric Pressburger who wrote and produced the film. After cutting their teeth on war-films such as The Spy in Black (1939) and 46th Parallel (1941) by 1943 they were keen to take on something more substantial than a typical World War II British propaganda film. Here they managed to fit in two world wars, the Boer War, and along the way called into question the generals whose dated tactics had caused Britain to become embroiled in so much devastation, as well as demonstrate just how outdated and ultimately futile the English gentlemen's code of conduct was. Unsurprisingly, Winston Churchill was furious at the film's barely-concealed message, but looking back on it now from a detached point-of-view it really is one of the greatest British films ever made.

Oddly, despite the title of the film, the main character is not dead by the time the credits roll. Neither is he a Colonel. Neither is his name Blimp. Slightly misleading that. The title comes from the cartoon-strip character David Low created in the 1930s to satirise the stereotypical jingoistic British army officers. However, rather than just show Colonel Blimp as a one-dimensional character set in his ways, Powell and Pressburger decided to go back to the character's early career and show how he became  the narrow-minded officer, starting with the Boer War in 1902. In doing this, they jettisoned the 'Colonel Blimp' moniker (though confusingly it remained for the film's title) and re-christened the character Clive Candy. By doing this and seeing where the Colonel's ideals and motives had come from a far more sympathetic character is revealed - indeed by the end of the film it's impossible not to like Candy. 

The story begins in present-day 1943, and Candy (Roger Livesey), in charge of the Home Guard, has arranged a large-scale exercise to begin at midnight. A fresh young officer, Lieutenant "Spud" Wilson decides to circumvent the usual 'rules of engagement' and takes his unit to strike pre-emptively, taking General Wynne-Candy and his staff prisoner whilst they are in the Turkish baths. In the midst of the General's protestations that "war begins at midnight!" the young officer insults Wynne-Candy's staff and the two officers scuffle, falling into the bath. At this point Candy is every bit the Colonel Blimp of the cartoon-strips: he's not used to having his authority questioned, and he simply can't comprehend why the young  officers aren't obeying the usual rules. As the story then flashbacks 40 years we begin to see that there's far more to Candy than meets the eye.

In 1903 Clive "Sugar" Candy was a dashing young officer serving with a Victoria Cross for gallant service, and it's obvious that the world was a very different place. With the British Empire at its height, there was no one else in the world to challenge Britain, so they could make their own rules, and everyone else would have to play by them. As it happened, the rules the British made were those of honour, decency, and always doing the "gentlemanly thing". This noble philosophy worked fine until the Empire began to decline, and then as the film shows, there's no point having rules if you're the only one playing by them.

When Candy embarks on an ill-advised trip to Germany to settle a minor dispute, he meets Edith Hunter, played by Deborah Kerr (An Affair to Remember), an English governess living in Berlin,  and slowly becomes  infatuated by her. Whilst sorting out business, he accidentally offends the entire German Imperial Army and at the Germany's insistence has to fight a duel with a German officer drawn by lot. Candy shows no remorse for his actions, nor does he try to avoid the saber duel; in the great English way he takes his fate with a stiff upper lip, keeps calm and carries on. Both he and his German opponent, Theodore Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook) are wounded in the duel (we never find out who won), and whilst in recuperation the two end up becoming great friends, despite Theo's limited English. When Theo tells Candy that he is in love with Edith and plans to ask her to marry him, Candy is delighted for his friend but later realises that he had feelings for her himself and regrets the lost opportunity.
We next meet Candy, now a Brigadier, at the end of the First World War. As he hears the guns stop firing he proudly tells his Corporal: "the Germans have shelled hospitals, bombed open towns, sunk neutral ships, used poison gas, and we won. Clean fighting, honest soldiering have won." It plays on one of the recurring themes in Colonel Blimp - that as long as you fight cleanly, you can't lose.
While in France Candy spots a familiar looking woman working as a nurse. She bears a striking resemblance to Edith, and when he returns to England Candy tracks the woman down, now identified as Barbara Wynne (played by Deborah Kerr again), courts her and marries her - despite her being twenty years his junior.
By the time we next catch up with Candy (via some of the most amusing and original 'passing-of-time' scenes ever committed to film) it's 1939 and World War II is looming large. General Wynne-Candy is in full bloom in his Colonel Blimp guise, being an overweight,  old-fashioned patrician. He offers to join the army, but is 'retired'. He records an interview for broadcast on the radio but he is informed it is cancelled because in it  he suggests that fair play will win against Germany, and that it's better to lose with honour than win without, an opinion at odds with the government's line that everyone must fight by any means necessary against the Nazis. To put his experience to good use he settles for being leader of the newly-established Home Guard, Britain's last line of defence. This brings the film full circle as we return to the very beginning.

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp is expertly paced. Its 163-minute running never feels bloated, but it also gives the story the space it needs to breathe. Even the flash-back format works perfectly: by returning to the pompous General at the end of the film, after following the experiences of his life we look at him with a completely different and more sympathetic opinion. The length of the film also allows other characters to be fully explored, and the most intriguing is Theodore Kretschmar-Schuldorff. After their initial meeting after the saber duel, Candy next seeks his old friend out at following the First World War where he discovers Theo is now a German prisoner. Though Theo at first ignores Candy, when he is due to be repatriated back to Germany he accepts an invitation to the General's house and the two reminisce, though Theo is sceptical about Germany's future. Powell and Pressburger make Theo an intelligent and measured man, far more so than Candy himself, and when he seeks asylum in Britain at the dawn of the Second World War, it's easy to relate to him and the shame and bitterness he feels about his two sons being "good Nazis". In an era where the fashion was to portray all Germans as faceless Nazi monsters, it's refreshing to have such a three-dimensional character as Theo, and his friendship with Candy is never less than believable. It also helps that he is played to perfection by Austrian actor Anton Walbrook - his ability wasn't lost on Michael Powell who would often draw on his skills to portray sympathetic Germans. 

Deborah Kerr, in her breakthrough role, and still only 21 at the time of filming, is similarly excellent, imbuing each of the three roles she plays in Colonel Blimp with their own individual, infectious character. In a lovely turn at the end of the film Theo realises that the Candy has employed the young girl Angela "Johnny" Cannon as his personal driver because of her similarity to his own late wife. It's also touching that Johnny has affection for the old General, and does her best to stop the young officers from carrying out their scheme. 
But the most impressive turn here is undoubtedly Roger Livesey. He seems perfectly suited to the role, whether it's playing the caddish young Imperial officer, or the hoarse, old-fashioned leader of the Home Guard.  I've never seen a biography-style of film where the actor so ably portrays such a wide range of ages with such authenticity. 
Unusually for the time, Colonel Blimp was filmed in Technicolor, with their huge, unwieldy cameras as big as telephone boxes. The upside of this though is due to its recording onto three strips of film, the colour hasn't faded and the image really does pop off the screen. In 2011 the film underwent a comprehensive restoration, and I was blown away by how amazing it looks. I've never seen a film from the 1940s look so good - it really does look like a recent film set during the 40s; a fact helped by how fresh the story itself feels. 

If it wasn't for the fact that they'd made so many other great films, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp would surely have been The Archers' masterpiece. As it is, it can quite rightly sit proud alongside A Matter of Life and Death and The Red Shoes, but also alongside the very greatest cinema ever to come out of Britain.