Jose Ferrer directed this story of a dozen or so Royal Marines who volunteer to paddle some kayaks up the river to Bordeaux during World War II and blow up some ships with limpet mines.
There isn't much here that you haven't seen in war movies elsewhere. The first half is essentially a training camp comedy with the misfits violating military rules and playing grab ass in the barracks. In the second part, the good-natured playfulness is replaced by a serious and determined effort to get the job done, even though it leads to the death of most of the members of the unit.
The story serves up one cliché after another. There is, for instance, an abrasive relationship between the newly appointed commanding officer, Ferrer, and his next in command, the by-the-book Trevor Howard. Ferrer is too good to his men and they treat him like a marshmallow. He has to learn from Howard that the men must be licked into shape. (Usually, this formulaic relationship is the other way round, with the new CO having to impose harsh discipline on all his subordinates to snap them out of their lax ways.) Then there is the uniformed blond in the pub, the one who comes out of nowhere, accompanied by a fulsome orchestra, singing "The London I Love." Then there is the interservice rivalry brawl in the pub in which every glass object is shattered and all the furniture destroyed but nobody gets a bloody nose.
Two men are captured and not only won't tell the Nazi officer what their mission is. They don't speak at all. The officer thinks himself clever when he has the men separated and given "questionnaires" to fill out, figuring one of them will rat on the mission to save his own skin. It's a version of a game called "the prisoner's dilemma." Does either man fill out the questionnaire? You don't even need to ask.
Before the end credits roll, there is the ghostly parade of those who have died on the mission, not as well done as it was some quarter of a century earlier in "All Quiet on the Western Front." The direction is not bad, just pedestrian. The acting is done mostly by seasoned professionals and is agreeable enough. Trevor Howard does the best job. The dialog can't be said to scintillate exactly. The humor, like just about everything else, is broad and spelled out. Example: One of the heroes in his canoe is hiding from a German patrol boat by snuggling up against the hull of a ship. A cook dumps a bucket of waste overboard and it lands on the guy in the canoe, who looks upward in disgust and mutters a curse we can't hear. Anyone could write and film that scene. It leaps into the mind whenever the brain lapses into theta waves. But compare the similar scene in David Lean's "The Bridge on the River Kwai." William Holden is in the water at the base of the bridge when a Japanese soldier spits. The gob of saliva plops just in front of Holden's half-submerged face. Without lifting his head, Holden rolls his eyes upward, glowers, and slowly submerges. Some creative effort shows in the scene, whereas none is evident in "Cockleshell Heroes." The editing is off too. I was never sure by the end exactly how many canoes were involved. The most we see on the screen at one time are five (I think). Yet three seem to be lost during the mission and there are still three others (at least) who plant their bombs according to plan.
I've been pretty negative about the film so far, but it's not all that bad. It's not insulting. It's not an animated cartoon. It just lacks originality in many of its features. But clichés exist for a reason, namely that they work. (Otherwise they wouldn't become clichés.) Some of the ludic episodes are pretty funny. And the notion of paddling canoes up a French river to blow up some ships is novel.
I kind of enjoyed it, but so much more could have been done with it.
There isn't much here that you haven't seen in war movies elsewhere. The first half is essentially a training camp comedy with the misfits violating military rules and playing grab ass in the barracks. In the second part, the good-natured playfulness is replaced by a serious and determined effort to get the job done, even though it leads to the death of most of the members of the unit.
The story serves up one cliché after another. There is, for instance, an abrasive relationship between the newly appointed commanding officer, Ferrer, and his next in command, the by-the-book Trevor Howard. Ferrer is too good to his men and they treat him like a marshmallow. He has to learn from Howard that the men must be licked into shape. (Usually, this formulaic relationship is the other way round, with the new CO having to impose harsh discipline on all his subordinates to snap them out of their lax ways.) Then there is the uniformed blond in the pub, the one who comes out of nowhere, accompanied by a fulsome orchestra, singing "The London I Love." Then there is the interservice rivalry brawl in the pub in which every glass object is shattered and all the furniture destroyed but nobody gets a bloody nose.
Two men are captured and not only won't tell the Nazi officer what their mission is. They don't speak at all. The officer thinks himself clever when he has the men separated and given "questionnaires" to fill out, figuring one of them will rat on the mission to save his own skin. It's a version of a game called "the prisoner's dilemma." Does either man fill out the questionnaire? You don't even need to ask.
Before the end credits roll, there is the ghostly parade of those who have died on the mission, not as well done as it was some quarter of a century earlier in "All Quiet on the Western Front." The direction is not bad, just pedestrian. The acting is done mostly by seasoned professionals and is agreeable enough. Trevor Howard does the best job. The dialog can't be said to scintillate exactly. The humor, like just about everything else, is broad and spelled out. Example: One of the heroes in his canoe is hiding from a German patrol boat by snuggling up against the hull of a ship. A cook dumps a bucket of waste overboard and it lands on the guy in the canoe, who looks upward in disgust and mutters a curse we can't hear. Anyone could write and film that scene. It leaps into the mind whenever the brain lapses into theta waves. But compare the similar scene in David Lean's "The Bridge on the River Kwai." William Holden is in the water at the base of the bridge when a Japanese soldier spits. The gob of saliva plops just in front of Holden's half-submerged face. Without lifting his head, Holden rolls his eyes upward, glowers, and slowly submerges. Some creative effort shows in the scene, whereas none is evident in "Cockleshell Heroes." The editing is off too. I was never sure by the end exactly how many canoes were involved. The most we see on the screen at one time are five (I think). Yet three seem to be lost during the mission and there are still three others (at least) who plant their bombs according to plan.
I've been pretty negative about the film so far, but it's not all that bad. It's not insulting. It's not an animated cartoon. It just lacks originality in many of its features. But clichés exist for a reason, namely that they work. (Otherwise they wouldn't become clichés.) Some of the ludic episodes are pretty funny. And the notion of paddling canoes up a French river to blow up some ships is novel.
I kind of enjoyed it, but so much more could have been done with it.
