Film: The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp

Director: Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger
Genre: Drama
Source: UK (1943)
Rating: Unrated (Probably PG)
Location/Format: Criterion Blu-ray
Grade: A-

It took me a while to get around to watching this classic 1943 British film (sometimes called the finest British film ever made), but when I did I couldn't help but fall for this decades-spanning but ultimately small-in-focus and empathetic film about the nature of age, change, and love. I can only imagine this is a film that will get better over time, as the film itself chronicles how time shapes us, changes us, and ultimately leaves us behind. And amazingly, it allows that idea of the world changing around us to be both poignant and appreciable, rather than the tragedy other (lesser) directors might have made of it. It is melancholy, but it is resolute and even optimistic in its melancholy. In other words, it's all very British, but in the best of ways.

The film wouldn't work without the outstanding performances of Roger Livesey as Clive Candy and Deborah Kerr in three (count 'em, three!) roles throughout the film. Her recurrence as different women in Candy's life is a little bit of a gimmick, but it's a gimmick that works, as we (along with Candy) can't help but fall for her first incarnation, find solace in her second, and look warmly on the third--though by that point Candy is well past the age when he is looking for a paramour. She is bubbly, energetic, and even distinct in all three roles, and I'm surprised she hasn't gotten more attention for her performance.

But really this is Livesey's film, and not only did he blow me away, but I feel a little embittered that I've never seen him before. How did he not become one of those film names that lives on? He deserves to, if this performance is any indication. Livesey ages Candy more convincingly than any number of recent aging performances (Sorry, Brad Pitt, but Livesey didn't have any CGI to rely on). He injects Candy with such dignity, such certitude, and such a sense of humor that I couldn't help but admire him, and though the film's bookended scenes show Candy's way of thinking to be out of date, you can't help but see that conflict play out with empathy for him and for a wish that his standards of decency, gentlemanly conduct in war, and common decency still mattered. Perhaps we cannot rely on "honor" to defeat enemies without honor, but we should not pretend that discarding one's honor has no consequences. The film provides a legitimate argument that one cannot face a threat like the Nazis when following the old rules, yet it also reminds us that as we make war less and less civilized, we are also losing something of our own selves and souls. 

Candy is a man with soul, for better or for worse. We see it in his pursuit of love. We see it in his friendship with his "enemy" Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff, and in his honor. We laugh at him, we cry with him, and ultimately we leave reminded that every individual has a journey that makes them who they are, even if who they are seems removed from our own reality. That's an important message to remember: We are each the center of our own stories, even if the greater narrative of history moves along without us, and perhaps the world would be a better place if we searched for the story in others.

In the end I loved the movie. It has a quality that has stayed with me even two weeks after finishing it, and it has me excited to track down more Powell and Pressburger movies. After watching Martin Scorsese's introduction to the film and learning a little about the two directors' passion for the project, I want to see what other visions these two men pursued. 

If they're anything like Colonel Blimp, I'm in for a treat.

Alternate Film Title: Wait, did I miss something? I don't understand why this is the title. When is he referred to as Colonel Blimp?