Author
and film historian Dana Polan has
recently written a book titled Dreams of
Flight: ‘The Great Escape’ in American Film and Culture that analyzes
director John Sturges’ WWII classic. Cinema Retro Editor-in-Chief Lee Pfeiffer conducted this interview with
Polan regarding his book.
Q: Tell us about your book overall:
Dana Polan: Combining unique
archival research, close analysis, and first-person accounts by viewers, Dreams
of Flight traces multiple histories around the 1963 POW classic The
Great Escape: production history of the film itself but also the history of
the original event (an actual breakout in 1944 that led to the successful
escape of three men, recapture of seventy-three with fifty of those summarily
executed on Hitler’s orders), as well as the trajectory of POW Paul Brickhill’s
written account as it evolved into the bestselling page-turner book The
Great Escape. I also chronicle my own viewing history of the film, starting
as a Sixties adolescent, along with accounts by other viewers who also saw the
film around then and found that its blend of the buoyant and the downbeat
stayed with them over the years. I had long wanted to revisit the film, ever
since first seeing and being so strongly impacted by it. I feel so lucky to
have been given the chance to engage with the film in a book-length study that
could go into much detail about the film and its reception history.
Q: When and where did you first see the film?
DP: I wish I could be
more precise about the exact date but I started researching and writing the
book during Covid quarantine and that limited a wee bit of my research. I know
I saw it at my town’s one drive-in and it was likely about 1965 since that is
when we moved to the area. If so, I would have been 13 years old or so, and it
would have been a re-release. I’d have loved to track down microfilm copies of
the local newspaper to see the dates the film was playing and also to determine
if it was on a double-bill or not. The Great Escape is a long film but
our drive-in generally showed two films and I imagine would only have had one
presentation per night of the double-bill. Although The Great Escape was
not road-showed in its original release in 1963 — no symphonic overture over a
static opening title, no intermission, and so on — I persist in thinking there
was a break half-way through so viewers could be encouraged to go to the
concession stand. In fact, the film has a logical place for a pause just at the
halfway mark — when the first character we care about gets killed and the hitherto
individualist Hilts (Steve McQueen) declares his commitment to the collective
cause of escape. There’s a consequential fade-out and then fade-in as the POWs
resolutely return to their cause. If indeed the drive-in showed The Great
Escape on a double-bill, that would have made for a long evening, and the
intermission might have been essential for concession-stand sales.
An
amusing anecdotal detail: I was away for the weekend when the film opened at
the drive-in and my mom and stepdad went without me on Saturday evening
to see it. I had desperately been wanting to see it as, as I’ll explain in a
moment, it seemed to promise exactly that sort of action entertainment I loved
as a kid. When I got home by Sunday, I was so distraught that they hadn’t
waited that my stepdad ended up having to take me that evening and sat through
this long epic a second time in two days. He dozed off here or there while I
was enthralled by every moment of the film even as I ultimately found it very
disturbing.
Q: What impressed you most about it?
DP: Like, I imagine,
many young American boys of the time, I went to the film for the gungho promise
of its canonic poster, “The great adventure, the great entertainment, the great
escape.” Instead, I was blown away by a narrative that seemed to me to be a
deflation of adventure — a transformation of rousing entertainment into
something questioning and quite bleak.
The
Great Escape’s
downbeat turn from a fun romp into fatalism left a lasting impression on me. As
I write in Dreams of Flight, this unexpected narrative turn was a theme
I began to notice in other films of that historical moment — one that is
telling of American culture in the 1960s.
I
have always imagined that my experience of movies is not mine alone but is
likely representative of my demographic currents (gungho adolescent boy, in
this case) and may be shared strongly by others in the same demographic. At the
time, as I say, I was a pre-teen American boy who especially liked “manly”
action cinema and expected from the trailers and that iconic poster that The
Great Escape fit that mold. I know from other fan accounts that I tracked down
for the book that I was not alone in feeling something disturbing and
consequential was going on instead — in the film and in the times themselves.
In my research for Dreams of Flight, I reached out to other viewers who
first saw The Great Escape in the 1960s and found many had comparable
reactions.
Q: Where does it stand in relation to Sturges' other films?
DP: John Sturges made
over 40 films in a career that started with B-movies with a graduation to A-films
in the 1950s, some of which combined strong narrative drive with a degree of
artistic ambition — on the one hand, an entrapment drama like Bad Day at
Black Rock (Sturges’s one nomination for Best Director) where thematic
resonance (the topic of racial prejudice) is overlaid with taut suspense and
moments of explosive action; on the other hand, the pretention of literary adaptation
with, for example, the barebones Hemingwayesque allegory of The Old Man and
the Sea. Even though he was thought of most as a manly man’s director,
Sturges even did so-called women’s films, melodramas of love and emotional
turmoil, such as A Girl Named Tamiko or By Love Possessed. But
his forte was films of masculine fortitude and he found apt embodiment,
literally so, for the trials and travails of men under pressure in a visual
fascination with strong, sometimes stocky guys filmed as upright or coiled up bundles
of vitality just itching to burst out. For example, the first time we see James
Garner in The Great Escape (as Hendley, the forger), he’s filmed,
perhaps curiously, from a distance that not only cuts off his feet but his neck and head as well so that the emphasis is on his torso, taut and
tough as he confronts the fact of incarceration. Throughout the film, there are
long pauses to paint a pent-up male energy that then passes over into scenes of
vibrant action. I suggest in my book that The Great Escape not merely
divides into three parts — planning of the escape, enactment of the escape, the
outcome (as noted, a generally bleak one with most of the men rounded up and
summarily executed) — but finds an overall distinct visual style for each of
these: from coiled up men constrained by the fences that surround the camp and
by the very confinement of the barracks they are walled up in, to the open
expanses of seeming freedom beyond the camp, and back again to the camp for
those POWs who are rounded up but escape execution (with the last shots showing
even greater confinement for Hilts, who once again merits his moniker, “The
Cooler King”).
For
me, The Great Escape shows Sturges at the pinnacle of his dramatic form,
although some fans prefer the tighter professionalism of The Magnificent
Seven. Later Sturges films have their moments but the pauses get longer
(and more talky as in the very sodden The Satan Bug) and the
professionalism turns into long scenes of planning for action that actually
defer that action (for example, the slowly unfolding Marooned and the
overblown Ice Station Zebra which keeps delaying a violent confrontation
that actually never comes for symphonically scored scenes of the submarine
crashing through the ice and men pushing buttons and yelling orders). I find
perfection to the pacing of The Great Escape: men talk out their plans
at length but the suspense never lets up and, as I argue in the book, Sturges
films dialogue scenes in a variety of forms (classic shot/reverse shot,
wide-screen confrontation between men, long takes with a moving camera, and so
on) that keep everything moving forward in thrilling fashion.