Nevahhh Seen It!: Bridge on the River Kwai

When Billy Joel name checks a movie in one of his songs, you best pay attention!

This is a war movie that is a thinky movie and not, as many war movies are, a shooty-bloody-murdery one. I was relieved. I chose to focus on a military movie in November as a nod to our veterans, but as soon as I committed to it I had buyer’s remorse. I have seen many of the most lauded films: Apocalypse Now, Saving Private Ryan, Glory, Black Hawk Down mostly because they are high quality films. That fuzzy designation wins out for me even when I don’t love the overall subject–looking at you Natural Born Killers. Besides, this series is also about broadening my art consumption, which is a fancy way of saying opening myself up to creative work that might cut across my regular sensibilities in order to see what happens. In case it wasn’t clear, I am a low level risk taker. 

Bridge on the River Kwai came out in 1957 to much hoo-ha. It scooped up seven Academy Awards and another four at The British Academy Film Awards, which I had never even heard of but is apparently a thing that still happens. I guess the Brits are either too polite to make a big deal about it or no one paid attention to them until Dame Judy Dench started winning stuff. Either way, in 1957 a lot of people in tuxedos decided that Bridge on the River Kwai was a big deal, and it’s pretty much stayed that way since. Fair enough. 

Not the River Kwai and not THAT bridge, but seriously if they had spent more time making it look pretty and less time doing the war, everyone would have been a whole lot cheerier. ©SheilaMoeschenPhotography

I watched this movie on election night. It clocks in at almost three hours long. I thought, “this will take my mind off of things.” And then the Universe heard me and laughed and laughed and laughed. This strategy worked for about 19 minutes when I paused the movie to take some notes and then decided it “couldn’t hurt” to take a peek at election results. I mean, if there even WERE any to report THIS EARLY in the night! And then the Universe heard me again and laughed so hard a little bit of her martini came snorfing out of her nose. The rest of the evening proceeded with a lot of crying while also writing things in my notebook like “Alec Guiness carries the whole movie and Bill Holden gets top billing–what?” It was a wild time. 

Bridge is set within the context of World War II (the year is 1943), centering around a POW camp in Thailand. A group of British prisoners, led by Captain Nicholson (played by Alec Guinness, a very young Ben Kenobi !!), is ordered to build a railway bridge over the nearby River Kwai. That’s pretty much the gist. Except of course the bridge is not just a bridge, sorry Freud. The film uses this historical moment to probe ideas about duty and principle. What are the limits of these values? How do you understand the thin margin between obeying power structures without question (fulfilling your obligations, doing the right thing) and acting contrary because you are a human being endowed with free will and sometimes following through on your responsibilities is antithetical to your ideals as a person (also doing the right thing)?  

Questions not at all worth considering in America, like, now. Nope. 

Nicholson is the living embodiment of what it means to follow the rule of law. “Without law there is no civilization,” he tells another soldier prisoner named Shears (played by William Holden). He is unbending in his responsibility to his rank, his country, his role as a military leader even when sticking to his ideals gets him thrown in the camp equivalent of solitary confinement for several weeks. To Nicholson, compromising on his rigid beliefs is the equivalent of seceding the only thing that separates depravity from dignity and personhood. It’s an admirable position, but not without cost. 

The bridge itself ends up serving a higher, symbolic function. I sort of suspected this given that there was no way you could make a 3-hour movie about a bridge without calling it a Ken Burns documentary. Nicholson uses the mandate to build the bridge as an opportunity to maintain order, civility. He remarks to the camp medic that the men have better morale, more discipline, a better respect for themselves and one another. They have purpose apart from being prisoners, what Shears refers to as being “a living slave.” Nicholson is proud of what he’s accomplished. He has a small plaque placed at one end of the bridge so that future generations using it will know who built it (upstanding British soldiers) and how. What he forgets is that the whole reason the bridge exists is to complete a transportation route for enemy forces. What he doesn’t know as he stands on the completed bridge admiring the fine work is that a small team of allies are advancing with a plot to blow up the damn thing. 

It would be easy to write off Nicholson as a kind of idiotic rule follower, pledging blind allegiance to a bureaucratic system designed to strip people of their individuality and privilege group think no matter the impact. But my heart went out to Nicholson. There’s safety in cloaking yourself in a role with very specific, legible parameters and expectations. I was someone who found a lot of relief in having a defined identity and path when I was pursuing an academic career. That whole world is highly structured. There are processes to follow and certain types of markers to keep you on track and let you know exactly who and what you are at every point. It gave me stability. It also made me miserable. 

I got my degree and managed to find an appointment at a small college that was meant to be a stepping stone on my way to a tenure track gig at a research one institution (places like Yale, Cornell, Brown). I muddled and told myself things like “this is just what you do.” A statement like that is not so much a red flag as it is a firework display set off in a nuclear power plant. I secretly wanted out, but was too afraid to admit it because I didn’t want to let anyone down. It wasn’t that I thought I was a failure in terms of my skills or what I had to offer; stepping off this path meant I wouldn’t be who “you” wanted me to be anymore, who you saw as expertly fulfilling this very specific role. That felt like a betrayal I wasn’t brave enough to face or admit to. 

As Dr. Malcom says, “Life finds a way.” My position got cut; I spent a demoralizing year on the academic job market. It’s structured in a kind of yearly cycle so by spring you are either happily signing a contract or treading water/panicking/screaming into your pillow until you can begin the brutal process again in the late-summer. It was clear that this wasn’t sustainable. It forced me to say the words out loud that this was ultimately not where I belonged or what I wanted. I can put my finger on that moment–more than a dozen years ago–and still feel the relief in knowing that I wouldn’t have to conform to an identity that didn’t work and I didn’t want to inhabit. Nothing that followed would be easy, but it beat the alternative. 

I get it, Nicholson. I really, really do. 

With the bridge completed Nicholson walks around on it, inspecting the fine work and sturdy craftsmanship. Colonel Saito, the Japanese commander of the camp, joins him. The two men are bound by this experience and united in their dedication to serve their countries. Looking out over the span of the river, Nicholson reflects on his life. “It’s been a good life,” he says. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” But-

Still, there are times when you realize you’re nearer the ending than the beginning. You wonder, you ask yourself what the sum total of your life represents. What the difference your being there really made.

It’s such a beautiful, painfully fragile moment. It’s the only glimpse we get into Nicholson’s emotional psyche and the sudden weight brought on by his understanding-maybe-that there is something else, something more than being the good soldier. Earlier in the movie Shears says to Nicholson that it is foolish to “die by the rules when the most important thing is to live like a human.” Sometimes that means making choices you regret, hurting people you don’t want to hurt, letting others down, confronting your shortcomings and worst qualities. You can almost see Nicholson considering all of it; you can feel the pressure behind Nicholson’s words. I want the movie to end there. I want Nicholson to join his men, do his time, get the hell out of the jungle, and go back to India to play cricket and drink lemonade on his back porch. I want him to not be the only person he knows how to be. 

The next morning he’s out on the edge of the bridge (seriously Nicholson, buy it dinner first!) along with Saito when he happens to notice a lead line in the river that most definitely connects to some kind of explosive device. What happens is a flurry of momentum: He and Saito scramble down to the river. A distant train whistle sounds.  Saito is shot. Nicholson calls for help as a soldier advances to reach the detonator. He’s killed, but coming up behind him is Shears who earlier escaped the camp and was then recruited for this special mission. Nicholson snaps back to reality, and you can practically see the thought bubble above his head: save the bridge, aid the enemy, fail your duty, betray who you say you are. Another soldier from the mission camped out on the shore fires a mortar that hits Nicholson. He stumbles, falling on the detonator just as the train reaches the midway point. Bridge, train, and a life that might have been collapse in a cloud of metal and dust.