#burt lancaster
Burt Lancaster and Ava Gardner on the set of ‘The Killers’, 1946.
(1964) John Frankenheimer
In this very unique espionage/caper film, which details actual events concerning the French underground’s work during WWII, Paul Scofield plays a craggy, pock-marked S.S. terror who’s loading a Nazi troop train with crates marked “Degas,” “Renoir,” and “Picasso.”
The idea is to get France’s priceless collection out of Paris and into Berlin, what with the Allies just a few miles outside of the city. A civilian railway inspector (Burt Lancaster, gritty and stoic like you won’t believe) has other ideas. He and the French Underground unit he secretly directs have a so-crazy-it-just-might-work plan. It’s so crazy, in fact, that it takes a while for Lancaster to get on board (pun intended) with the underground crew.
A wonderful conceit in this story is that the underground detects that the Nazis’ obsession with bureaucratic efficiency is an Achilles’ heel on their collective jackboot. Anytime there’s a railway delay ( a complete ruse always designed by the underground), some German officer attempts to raise hell. Lancaster simply puffs his cigarette, waves some official papers from the high command, and wearily sighs, “It’s your war. I’m just trying to run a railroad.”
As tense and fiercely energetic as the action is, and as impressive as the stunts may be, there remains a pervasive element of gloom. An impressive supporting cast (Michel Simon, Jeanne Moreau, Wolfgang Preisse) conveys a general air of resignation.
But it’s the rail yard, with its constant noise, steam, and random machine gun executions, that establishes most of the despair here. It functions as an alternative location for Eraserhead with Nazi troops thrown in for effect. Jean Tounier’s black-and-white cinematography, which evokes a stark realm of shiny surfaces, grime, black puddles, and gray skies, must have influenced Schindler’s List.