The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943): Who Is This Guy?

This is a surprisingly good film made in England during the worst of WWII in England, under the most trying of conditions (political as well as military). Made by the remarkable team of Michael Powell (director/writer) and Emeric Pressburger (writer/producer), Colonel Blimp is a warm portrait of a misunderstood man, and also a comment on generational change, as well as the passing of the old order, and possibly civilization itself, with the coming of modern warfare.

There is no character in the movie named Blimp, or even referred to by that name. The title derives from a satiric British editorial cartoon character with that moniker, popular in the 1930’s and early ‘40s, by the artist David Low. “Colonel Blimp” in these political cartoons was an old school fool of a British military officer, fat with a droopy walrus mustache, usually depicted in a steamroom, presumably at a stuffy old gentleman’s club, wrapped in a towel, spouting stupid reactionary drivel to some other old guard gent.

The film relates the story of a British military man, Clive Wynne-Candy (Roger Livesey), who at the commencement of the picture is a stout old retired general, with a silly old-fashioned droopy mustache, the head of the regional “home guard,” charged with protection of the English homeland in the event of a German attack. War exercises are to start at 12:00 a.m. A young lieutenant, playing the enemy general, preemptively attacks, and quickly captures General Candy, wrapped in a towel, at his bathhouse. (OK, get the reference now?) Candy blusters and rages at the young officer: What’s the meaning of this? How dare you, sir? You’ve broken the rules! War doesn’t start until midnight! To which the junior officer replies that there are no rules in THIS war.

These first scenes are the frame for most of the rest of picture, which flashes back to 1902 and fills in Candy’s life story from the turn of the twentieth century through WWI and eventually back to WWII. We see him as young officer just returned from the Boer War in South Africa, having earned the Victoria Cross for valour. He is not fat and stuffy; but rather , he’s dashing, impetuous, and patriotic. Indeed, these latter qualities impel him to rush off to Berlin, where he meets the lovely Edith Hunter (Deborah Kerr), insults a cadre of German officers, and, as a result, honor requires him to fight a duel – using sabers(!) - with a young German officer, Theodor Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook). Both are honorably wounded, Candy receiving a nasty scar on his (stiff) upper lip, which he will hide with a lifelong mustache. During their recuperation, Theo and Candy become fast friends. Both also fall in love with Edith, although Candy does not realize his feelings (the dork) until after Theo and Edith become engaged. This entire sequence, by the way, is told in a light and humorous – occasionally hilarious – style.

Years pass. During WWI, the two friends find themselves on opposing sides. At war’s end, Clive meets a young nurse, Barbara (Deborah Kerr, again), to whom he is immediately attracted because of her resemblance to Edith. They marry, and settle into a period of peacetime bliss. His comradeship, with Theo, though strained, continues . The passage of time is quirkily (and by modern standards, appallingly) depicted by the ever increasing accumulation of hunting trophies on the walls of Candy’s study. Candy, by now a Brigadier General, eventually retires. By the start of the Second World War, both of Candy’s loves, Edith and Barbara have died. Theo has moved to England to escape the Nazis, including his brown shirt sons. Candy is too old to re-take his commission and go to war, but he is given command of the regional home guard. We are nearly back to where we began, but with a rich understanding of this old, stout general now. Yes he is old school, overly formal, and rule bound as many older folks are. But he is oh-so-human. We know he is no Colonel Blimp, despite the attitude of the young officers who have ‘defeated’ him. And unlike the caricature “Blimp”, Clive Candy is capable of change, and does change.

Incidentally, if you are a fan of the BBC/PBS series, Foyle’s War – which depicts England’s home front and the home guard during this period – you will find an uncanny antecedant to Foyle’s driver, Samantha (aka “Sam”)(Honeysuckle Weeks) in Candy’s WWII driver, Angela “Johnny” Cannon (Deborah Kerr, yet again).

The cinematography by Georges Perinal is inventive and gorgeous. How they were able to film in Technicolor in the midst of the war is a mystery. Unlike other color films of the era, there is nothing garish or eye-popping about the palette; it just looks good.

Throughout, the acting in Blimp is superb. Kerr manages to bring a different personality and look to each of her three roles and is a delight, particularly as Edith and as Johnny. Livesey strikes just the right balance between British propriety and heartwarming sensitivity, and Walbrook is very appealing as the thoughtful, cultured and, ultimately, moral German friend.

In the midst of the war, the idea that a German, particularly an officer, should be depicted as a decent and honorable man nearly led to the banning of this motion picture. Churchill himself tried to shut it down (perhaps also because he took the “Colonel Blimp” reference personally!); and although that gambit failed, export to the U.S. was not permitted until after the war in Europe was over. (In fact, a complete version of this picture was not available in America until the mid 1980’s.) The initial critical reception was mixed, but it is now generally regarded as one of the great British films of the 20th century. Yet, as Powell himself noted, with some pride, while this was “a 100% British film”, the cinematographer was French, the music was composed by a German Jew, the writer (Pressburger) was a Hungarian Jew, the costume designer was Czech, one of the lead actors was Austrian, etc. Quite a lot of European talent was in Britain during the war, for obvious reasons, and no doubt this contributes to what I would call the “generous” attitude of the picture.

While not exactly an antiwar motion picture, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp does not glorify war, not even the ongoing one. It does vilify the Nazi regime, and espouses the view Germany must be defeated, but this is not laid on too thick. It is not a propaganda piece, but an ambivalently honest musing on the state of affairs. There is the odd mourning for the passing of the old ways, along with an exhortation to face up to change. As the opening sequence suggested, WWII was no gentleman’s war. The old rules didn’t apply. Near the end of the film, a patriotic speech that Candy was to give over the BBC is cancelled. His text excoriated Nazi scorched earth war tactics - such as bombing refugees, shooting bailed out pilots, destroying hospitals and so on - as barbaric, but went on to suggest it might be better to accept defeat than to adopt such dishonorable tactics in order to prevail. Theo tells Candy that his code of honor is an anachronism. ”If you let yourself be defeated by them, just because you are too fair to hit back the same way they hit at you, there won't be any methods but Nazi methods! If you preach the Rules of the Game while they use every foul and filthy trick against you, they will laugh at you! They'll think you're weak, decadent!”

Watching and thinking about The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp has driven home to me the importance of cultural and historical context in our understanding and appreciating films from another time or place. The use of the “Colonel Blimp” reference is one example. The situation in wartime England, where the intended audience was experiencing a ferocious war and unprecedented sacrifice on the home front, is another. Here at least, the spoken language is English. Yet, I no doubt missed or misunderstood a lot of the satire. When I think, for example, about the many Italian films I’ve watched over the last year – from the neorealist films of the postwar period through to the comedies and social satires of the late ‘50s and the 1960’s, I can’t even begin to understand all that I’ve undoubtedly missed: historical context, class references, regional accents, colloquialisms, and on and on. Given these handicaps, it is all the more remarkable that we can still enjoy these movies. Yet we do.

I recommend this film. It is funny, entertaining, thought provoking, and yes, informative.

Available on DVD (Criterion Collection) and from Netflix (including streaming)