The Best Years Of Our Lives - This is the greatest war/post-war/anti-war movie ever made. It is an indictment of war that is so subtle, I don't think it counts as a traditional anti-war film. Samuel Goldwyn, the producer, famously said "I don't care if the film doesn't make a nickel. I just want every man, woman, and child in America to see it."
It is the story of three men returning from World War II with new realities waiting for them. One of them will return to his former life, unable to recognize it. One will return to a reality no one would talk about. The third will return literally as a different man, and face a world that doesn't change. It is a quiet, persistent film that gives me hope on so many levels. Given the current circumstances in my life, that says a great deal.
Fredrich March plays Al, a bank executive who enlists and serves his time as a foot soldier in the infantry. Dana Andrews as Fred, a soda-jerk, becomes a decorated Captain in the Air Force. Harold Russell plays Homer, the all-American kid, who serves in the Navy where he loses both his hands and returns with hooks that he has learned to utilize proficiently. They are not received as heroes or villains, just three men needing to proceed with their lives.
Al, by far the older of the three, has a family waiting for him. He reemerges in his environment humbled by his experience, and with a completely different perspective on his profession. He understands the intent and potential of the GI loan program, and battles with his bank to fulfill it. He is aloof, and has great difficulty reintegrating with his family. For the first time in his life, alcohol becomes a coping tool, and he flirts with self-destruction.
Fred had married a young woman while he was an officer in training, and now the prospect of living with this unskilled guy with few prospects isn't very appealing to her. It isn't long before her contempt is obvious, and her efforts to hide her indiscretions aren't even half-hearted. The skills he acquired in the Air Force are of little use for him now, and competition for even menial positions is tough. Fred looks for work, and has to return to the drugstore with whatever dignity he has left, knowing that medals don't shine on a cuckolded hero.
Homer returns to his loving parents, and his childhood sweetheart right next door. I can't begin to convey the pathos in these scenes; not having any idea how a writer imagines such things. I can only say, it is at once the most humbling, tender, and uplifting interaction I have ever seen on film. Despite the predictable issues, this young girl is solid in her conviction that she loves him, not a martyr, just a loving wife. At one point, Harold takes her into his room to show her how helpless he is when he removes his prosthetics, to face her future if she chooses to honor her childhood commitment to him. I am crying now as I write this.
All three men find their way eventually, and they do so by supporting each other. Three men who would have never crossed paths in a meaningful way if they hadn't been transported halfway around the world into a nightmare. Tragically, the nightmare pales in comparison to the waking world they return to. That is the indictment of war, not of the cause, not of the means, but of the unsanctified reunion the nation provides for these men. We would learn this lesson over and over again, to the point that even the most rabid dove extols the differentiation between the evil intent and the obliging tools (i.e., "I am against the war, not the soldiers"). I am not sure this pedantic advocacy is any more comforting than the benign neglect Al, Fred, and Harold endured.
Once again, the appeal of this movie for me is in the dignity of the characters involved. Simple, true, and unwavering devotion despite long odds and short options. I realize from time to time, that I have overcome some relatively stark circumstances, but certainly not with the dignity I would like. I relate to the goodness in these men, feel it inside me, just wishing that I would temper some of the less attractive aspects of my nature that have chased me since childhood. Instead, I think, I allow myself the simple entitlement of survival, that self-pitying albatross that was placed around my neck those years ago, that I am too stupid to remove. There are no more excuses, I am at the point in my life where I am looking forward with blessings and favor, not misery and misfortune.
*Postscript: Harold Russell is the only actor to win two Oscars for the same role. Not expecting his Best Supporting Actor recognition, the Academy awarded him a honorary Oscar "for bringing hope and courage to his fellow veterans through his appearance." Sadly, years later, he would sell one to pay for his dying wife's medical bills.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtimcBoJTpA
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