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France, 1944. Art lover and fanatical Nazi Colonel Von Waldheim has plundered a Paris museum for its masterpieces, including works by Van Gogh, Picasso and Cezanne. His intention is to have them transported by rail to Berlin, but one man stands in his way. Aware that the Allied forces are fast approaching the French capital, Resistance fighter Labiche need only stall the train for a few more days, but he ll have to use all of his wits and skills to do so. (Arrow Academy)
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Riveting - that's the word that best describes The Train. Frankenheimer's ornate action ride doesn't look like a 64-year-old film at all, and in this day and age of digital effects and shaky cameras, it has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Don't believe me? When you see a locomotive "race" with a spitfire, one perfect crash or the chilling finale of "I need your trucks", you'll change your mind. The great atmosphere is aided by the tough-as-nails Lancaster, the art-loving Colonel Scofield, the black-and-white picture, Jarre's music, the often imaginative camera positions... Basically everything. I like trains, I like those guy movies from the Second World War and their taciturn heroes, I like Germans who think, who are even likeable and don't just look like stupid sausage-eaters who can be run over by a five-year-old... Five stars.
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No idyll with romantically whistling train, merrily chuffing though the glorious French landscape, but a reality of deafening iron monsters spouting steam and oil at the end of occupation. Basically the very best and most suspenseful way of paying respect to the memory of the French railroad Resistance. Apart from one detail. The character played by Paul Scofield. Such a crudely negative character stands out like a blot on the landscape in this movie. You would expect him to torture his prisoners and laugh crazy Huron laughter while doing so. But in fact, all the characters are really “gray", and only he is clearly black-and-white, although the motivation side is convincing. He would have fitted in well in a naively delivered movie, but here he just spoils the aura of convincingness.
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Ideologically old-world but formalistically progressive, The Train can be seen as bridge between the era of epic war movies of previous years and the action-adventure flicks in a war setting that came in later years. From the former category, The Train takes a stellar ensemble cast, as well as a sombre ethos and grand moral questions, which form the film’s backbone. From the latter category, it can be said that emphasis is placed on the action scenes and spectacle. But none of the films that came later (whether we take the Clint Eastwood movies or a bunch of Italian genre flicks as examples) can match The Train in this respect. Frankenheimer stages captivating sequences in which he uses precise compositions with multiple planes where he constantly makes the presence of the characters felt within that grand action. The most important thing here is the breathtaking moments when the actors are present at or directly involved in dangerous feats in close proximity to passing trains, crashing locomotives and exploding railway stations. As pointed out by Christopher McQuarrie, who holds the film up as a reference work for the new Mission: Impossible, in a number of scenes it is amazing how they managed to do this in an era before digital effects and how many sequences give the viewer the feeling of being close to the action, because everything is simply captured in the camera as it happens instead of using optical effects and rear projections. Also, in many of the suspenseful passages, the filmmakers take care to set the action in what are clearly actual places, which are used thoroughly to dramatic effect in the given sequences. As a result, the one or two scenes shot in a studio or in modified interiors inevitably seem out of place.
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The Train is an example of first-class filmmaking craftsmanship, the precision of which (together with the subject matter) reminded me of Bryan Singer’s Valkyrie. It is an engaging thriller that’s always one step ahead of the audience thanks to its clever script, while doing great work with escalating the tension and not skimping on numerous and, for its time, spectacular explosions. Above all, however, it has a perfectly written and played villain in Paul Scofield. The unyielding, arrogant nature of his Nazi character clashes with his love for art, specifically for paintings he wants to transport by train from Paris to Germany, and which the “lump of flesh”, as Scofield calls the people’s hero played by Burt Lancaster, cannot appreciate, so the latter doesn’t even know what he’s fighting for. John Woo must love this film. It’s almost good enough for five stars.
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