Making elaborate
historical epics is often a lose-lose scenario. Not only do these films require
such enormous budgets that a high degree of financial risk is involved, but the
slightest deviations from historical facts can invoke the ire of experts. All
it takes is a few highly vocal naysayers to endanger the success of a massive
commercial enterprise. And here’s the kicker—even when filmmakers strive to get
most of the important details right,
there’s a hazard of losing the mainstream audience, because nobody buys a
ticket on a Friday night to experience the equivalent of dry textbook. Given
these realities, it’s no surprise that film history is filled with middling movies
along the lines of Waterloo. Easily one
of the most expensive films ever made at the time of its original release
(costing a reported $35 million), Waterloo
failed at the box office, received zero Oscar nominations, and subsequently
slid into quasi-obscurity. Ironic, then, that the picture depicts one of
history’s most infamous military defeats.
Set in 1815, the picture begins with
French emperor Napoleon Bonaparte (Rod Steiger) being driven from power after
enemy forces reduce his domain from all of Europe to just a small part of
France. Napoleon accepts defeat bitterly, and then returns from exile less than
a year later with a small army of 1,000 loyal soldiers. His attempt to regain
power infuriates leaders across Europe during a period referred to by
historians as “The Hundred Days.” This period culminates in the Battle of
Waterloo, where British commander Arthur Wellesley (Christopher Plummer),
otherwise known as the Duke of Wellington, pulverizes Napoleon’s insurgent
forces. Nearly half the movie’s running time comprises the battle itself,
including preparations, preliminary fights, and the ultimate clash.
Produced by
Dino de Laurentiis in one of his more dignified moments, Waterloo features truly awesome production values. According to the
lore surrounding the film, 17,000 Russian soldiers were used as extras during
principal photography in the Ukraine (subbing for Waterloo’s real location in
Belgium). Wide vistas during fight scenes are spectacular, with columns of men
trailing to the horizon, and it’s exhausting just to imagine how much work went
into costuming, organizing, and training this many people. Cowriter/director
Sergi Bondarchuk and his collaborators strove for accuracy in the areas of
formations, techniques, uniforms, weapons, and such—so, from a technical
standpoint, the combat scenes are nearly unassailable.
However, the movie’s dramatic
scenes are not as effective. Juicy story threads regarding the shifting allegiances
of France’s Field Marshal Ney (Dan O’Herlihy) and the political machinations of
French King Louis XVIII (Orson Welles) are undernourished, while a silly
romantic subplot involving a British officer adds nothing to the narrative. The
filmmakers try to parallel the psychological states of Napoleon and Wellington,
but the gimmick never quite works; while Steiger contributes a
characteristically overripe performance (envision lots of howling in pain),
Plummer is chilly and remote. That said, the debonair Plummer is at his best
when delivering such absurdly aristocratic lines as, “Commanders in battle have
something better to do than shoot at each other.”
Ultimately, Waterloo is an unsatisfactory hybrid.
It’s not elevated enough to reach the level of cinematic literature (read:
David Lean), and yet it’s too educational and mechanical to qualify as pulp
entertainment. Even acknowledging that history buffs will find more to enjoy
here than general audiences, it seems fair to say that Waterloo’s shortcomings are as prominent as its virtues.
Waterloo:
FUNKY
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