Films for Our Times: “On the Beach” (1959)
Third in series from Carla’s Vault, prompted by a fresh round of nuclear theats.
Strange, how a film can change over time — -in our perception, of course.
When I first saw “On the Beach” in the late 1950s-early ‘60s — -I was a teenager, coming into awareness of the world, of life — -what impacted me then, and stayed with me over time, was the story. In this 1959 film, nuclear Armageddon has occurred: Everyone in the Northern Hemisphere is dead, the question is how long will it take for the nuclear cloud to reach Australia’s shores, the film’s setting. So the story, as I experienced it originally, was about a group of characters meeting their end, tragically.
This film, notable for coming out in the seemingly placid 1950s, put the caution in “cautionary tale”: Act now — -quell the nuclear peril now — -or else. Hardly placid, the era was shadowed, darkly, by the Cold War between the U.S. and its former World War II ally, the Soviet Union, with nuclear Armageddon ever a possibility (we kids did drills). Focus of my post-film discussion with my father, with whom I saw it, was: What are the odds, Dad? Can this happen, annihilation by radiation? Dad thought the film was a “realistic depiction.” (The film’s trailer underscores the international draw, with shots of dignitaries, including from both the U.S. and USSR, attending premiere screenings.)
Now, seeing the film again, I see it with a very different lens. The how compels more than the what this time: how, in the face of their mortality, characters — -people — -manage and deal, philosophize and endure, continue to live life while finalizing their affairs, relate to others while making peace (or not) with themselves. Dark shadows still loom today — -does humanity ever shake free of it?: Nuclear catastrophe is newly threatened with Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine; climate catastrophe doesn’t just loom but is underway (climate “change” is too benign a term); and now for three years, a viral pandemic has challenged us all. In the Valley of the Shadow of Death, how do we live?
This film, superbly acted and magisterially directed by Stanley Kramer, unspools with a stately pace that allows for all this thought, speculation, pondering. Its power stays.
The story, set in 1964, opens with the arrival in Melbourne of an American submarine, the USS Swordfish, commanded by Dwight Towers (Gregory Peck). The sub, which had been engaged in “atomic war,” seeks a radiation-free base. We learn from the Australian admiral that, “calculating the rate of drift,” the nuclear cloud will reach Melbourne, on the country’s south side, in about five months, unless — -long shot — -it were to dissipate. Five months: In film-time (and in novel-time: I also read the novel by Nevil Shute), characters are not in panic mode throughout; they can stay “in the moment” — -active, living, relating. But, here, they also know, with varying degrees of clarity, that death approaches.
First to drop the mask of stoicism is Mary, wife of Peter Holmes (Anthony Perkins), a lieutenant in the Australian Navy, who’s assigned as liaison to Towers’ sub. Hosting Towers for a weekend, they give a party, with one proviso from Mary: no “morbid” discussion. That proviso is breached — -by Julian (Fred Astaire), an English scientist who, in an argument about the war’s origins, declares “We’re all doomed, you know.” Mary stops the party, insisting “There is always hope.” One by one, other characters reveal their clarity (or not). Friend Moira (Ava Gardner), falling instantly for Towers, notes that he speaks of his wife and two sons in Connecticut in the present tense, as if they were still alive. Even Mary can say it: His family is “gone.” Later, in a deeply moving scene, Towers, rejecting Moira, tries to find the words to tell her why: He can’t accept that it’s his family, not he, who is gone. It’s not a spoiler too many (I hope) to reveal he changes his mind after he takes the Swordfish on a reconnaissance deployment to the Northern Hemisphere and confirms the absence of all human life. Human life, here, goes on.
Interestingly — -and pertaining to the “how” compelling me more this time — -it’s not until the film’s midpoint that characters try to suss out this Armageddon. It occurs on the sub’s deployment, in the officers’ wardroom. “Somebody oughta write a history of this war,” one says. Another says,“ Well, if they do, I’d like to read it. I was in it for a while, but I don’t know what happened.” “I don’t even know who started it,” says another, to which another responds, “I wish somebody would stop it.” They turn to Julian, who’s onboard to monitor radiation levels. Julian ducks at first: “Who would ever believe human beings would be stupid enough to blow themselves off the face of the earth?” Then he deals, and delivers the film’s message: “The war started….when people accepted the idiotic principle….that peace could be maintained….by arranging to defend themselves with weapons they couldn’t possibly use…without committing suicide.” Julian then confesses his responsibility: As a scientist, he built the bomb.
For all the dread suffusing the film, what registers throughout are the ultimate values: love, caring, kindness. Peter’s “hero’s journey” is, before deployment, to go from one medical source to another seeking the suicide tablet that Mary will need for herself and their infant daughter Jennifer, in case he doesn’t get home in time. Perkins and Astaire are excellent in the scene where Julian tells Peter to “stop blubbing” that Mary has called him a “murderer”: “You know, I envy you. You have someone to worry about.” Love is foremost for the Australian admiral, too: Toward the end, when he announces to his aide, “It looks as if we’ve had it” (the first scene shot with off-axis Dutch angle), she reveals her feelings for him. And, with the sub’s crew voting “to head for home” (America), the farewell, so powerful, between Moira and Towers.
None of these spoilers will spoil your engagement with this film. Human beings want emotional connection, and this film delivers it powerfully, in the direst of circumstances. Too many of today’s films lose me with their emphasis on attitude over authenticity, with their whiplash editing. (I bailed from this year’s “best” picture “Everything, Everywhere All at Once” precisely because of the whiplash editing and special-effects overkill.) “On the Beach” features characters utterly authentic, seen dealing with their mortality, several of them on their own hero’s journey (versus the anti-hero of today).
The filmmaking itself is superb. The choice of black-and-white enhances not just the drama but the clarity of each character’s journey. The score plumbs infinite variations on the theme of “Waltzing Matilda.” And the acting: Peck was never better (I admired his Atticus Finch in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” but I admire that film less). Gardner, who here again plays a mess of a beauty, finds Moira’s ultimate strengths. Astaire executes well in his first non-dancing role. And Perkins, so often cast in offbeat roles, gets to plumb his fullest humanity here. Kudos to Kramer, the rare director who could finesse a political theme; he’d go on to “Judgment at Nuremberg” and “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.”
There is a final reason, I realize, that I warmed so to the film this time around. In this pandemic, still with us, it has been heartbreaking — -and sobering — -to see how precious little cohesion the American public has managed. Pull together? Didn’t happen. Who’d have thought, in the face of mortal peril, as mortal reality carried off more than a million of us, we would still be, both politically and almost literally, at each other’s throats. But not in this film: Cohesion reigns — -and it comforts. Also moving to one who’s committed to the quest of reversing America’s decline: the sight of the American flag, at the film’s end, fluttering on the American submarine on its way home, before it submerges. I have my recorder paused at that image.
The consolations of Art….
This is the third of the series Carla wrote early in 2024 and placed in her Vault — essays intended for publication while she worked on a play. Her cancer intervened. See her complete archive at www.carlaseaquist.com .
