In Hell is for Heroes (d. Don Siegel), Steve McQueen plays Pvt. Reese, a good soldier, uncommonly brave, who brings his squad -- pinned down by German troops along the Siegfried line -- to the brink of extinction. He does so because he's brave, but it's a bit more complicated than that. Reese is angry, beaten, silent. He's shell-shocked, but no one knows his business better. As the hours tick by, and the Germans manage to begin picking off his fellow soldiers, a frustrated need to do something, to take action, and damn their orders, takes hold of Reese, until he's able to talk his new commanding officer, Cpl. Henshaw (James Coburn) into a reckless mission that involves crawling through a minefield after dark to take out the German pillbox that has been raining hell on them for two days..
Hell is for Heroes is an odd, but wildly successful, mix of typical star-studded WWII Hollywood fare (the almost bizarre cast includes not only Bobby Darin, but also Bob Newhart, whose status as comic relief is made so explicit that at one point they actually put a phone in his hand, so he can carry on a one-sided conversation about morale and entertainment for the troops) and merciless This-Is-War! brutality. The performances are excellent, top to bottom -- honestly, I don't think McQueen was ever better -- and the direction and writing are consistently sharp. But it's Reese's journey from calloused grunt with a keen mind for combat, to arrogant failure, to some kind of redemption, that gives the film its unique punch.
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Because, as I say, Reese fails. Reese has been clashing with Sgt. Larkin (Harry Guardino) about the best way to extract themselves from their seemingly hopeless situation, with Reese pushing for his night-time pillbox assault, and Larkin, who's in command, insisting they wait for the rest of the command that is due to reinforce them, but has been delayed. When Larkin dies, putting Coburn's Henshaw in charge, a window opens for Reese to do things his way, to allow German artillery to win his argument with Larkin for him. Henshaw doesn't know what to do, and believes Reese does. He's wrong.
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The fact that the bitter, war-hardened loner in Hell is for Heroes, the guy who insists he knows better than the brass, does nothing with these traits but bring death upon his fellow soldiers, proving the usually fumbling brass correct, counts as a subversive twist to the Hollywood war movie formula. When the remainder of Reese's squad is finally relieved, Capt. Loomis (Joseph Hoover) lays into Reese:
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You had orders to stay here on the ridge and hold it. You knew that! What about Kalinsky? What about the man you left in the field? And you say you gave the order, huh? Reese, you're a private, you don't give orders, you take them!
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And he's right, clearly, because look what happened? Reese knows it, too -- McQueen's face in this scene is a jittery, sweaty mess, his eyes popping with despair, his mind, you sense, slipping away. Combat is what he knows, or thought he knew. It's the only thing that was left to him, and this is what he did with it. Everything that kept him moving has turned to dust, and men died for it.
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As I said before, a certain kind of redemption does come Reese's way, and while it's real, and worth something, it's also hopeless and grim, the kind of gut-churning victory one only finds on the battlefield.
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Have a good Memorial Day Weekend, everybody, but don't forget what it's all about.
