Crusty Movie Corner
In which we re-visit an unfashionable old movie that is not on the AFI’s Top-100 list.

In Harm's Way, 1965

Having been a cable TV staple for years, this is a film that can hardly be considered a forgotten gem. However, it does deserve critical reevaluation and to be put it on par with its cinematic brethren, “From Here to Eternity”. Though at first glance it appears “In Harm’s Way” is an obvious knock-off of the former, I would argue that “In Harm’s Way” is the superior film.

Directed by Otto Preminger, “In Harm's Way” boasts an all star cast made of up John Wayne, Kirk Douglas and Henry Fonda, Burgess Meredith and Patricia Neal, plus supporting players, Patrick O'Neal and Paula Prentiss. Like “From Here to Eternity” (number 52 on AFI's Top-100 list) , the film has an epic sprawl encompassing multiple story lines, all taking place in the backdrop of the Pacific theater during WWII. But unlike “Eternity”, the cast of “In Harm’s Way” (especially Wayne) give more attenuated performances than Burt Lancaster’s and feature none of Monty Clift’s tortured Method ticks. It is the only film in which the inflection of the line readings looms so large in my memory.

Both films are sprawling two and a half hour epics that weave various plotlines linked by one or two principal characters. With “In Harm’s Way”, that central link is John Wayne’s Captain (later Admiral) Torrey. The film follows him being stripped of his cruiser command, being busted to deskbound duty and finally his rehabilitation as an Admiral commanding a large task force. He is accompanied by his loyal, but damaged Executive Officer (Kirk Douglas), a complex character whose flawed likeability take a major hit when he succumbs to the lures of the abyss and rapes a young navy nurse (the fiancé of Torrey’s son).

In what as to be one of the wittiest and economical bits of character exposition, Torrey’s roommate, an intelligence officer played by Burgess Meredith, is introduced as he lies sleeping on the couch. Torrey walks up to him, pulls a copy of Photoplay off his face (a movie gossip magazine of the era) and parodying the cover headline asks, “(So) what is “Vicki Marlow’s secret”?” Meredith replies, “Vicky Marlow’s secret” is that she’s making half a million bucks a picture and is still collecting alimony from me.”

Nice touches abound -- often, it is this kind of texture that lingers most from a movie long after the plot has faded -- Wayne arriving home to find his roommate’s parked car in the driveway with the radio still on, music blaring. He turns it off and then walks in the door to find the radio on in the house, tuned to the same station, playing the same song.

The film daringly kills off much of its cast and leaves our protagonist lying wounded on a troop ship after a brutal naval battle. It is strange to watch the film realizing Director Preminger was only one year away from appearing as Mr. Freeze in the Batman TV series (along with Meredith as The Penguin), a casting oddity roughly equivalent to Josef Von Sternberg showing up on Facts of Life. Today, such stunt-casting is a de rigeur, po-mo career move -- in 1966 it was just plain weird.