“Army of Crime” (2009)
An absorbing account of a real-life WWII resistance group, Robert Guédiguian‘s film benefits from the classicism of his approach, as the story of this ethnically, politically and racially diverse band is shockingly underrepresented in the official histories of the resistance elsewhere. The film follows Armenian poet and exile Missak Manouchian (Simon Abkarian) as he becomes the reluctant leader of an early ragtag resistance cell, comprising his devoted French wife Mélinée (Virginie Ledoyen) as well as Jews, Poles, Spaniards, Italians and some of Manouchian’s countrymen, haunted by the specter of the Armenian genocide. “Army of Crime” (so titled after the name the Nazis gave them in an effort to stigmatize them as common criminals with the civilian population) demonstrates the group’s unified, to-the-death conviction, but also shows their deep internal divisions and psychological barriers (Manouchian’s own ethical aversion to killing, for example) So while it gives much-needed shine to the role played by France’s immigrant and minority populations in the resistance effort, it does not sell short the complexity and the mutual suspicion that also characterized it, especially in those early days when victory and vindication were far from assured.
“The Train” (1964)
An integral part of John Frankenheimer‘s unsurpassed 1960s run including “The Manchurian Candidate” “Birdman of Alcatraz,” “Seconds,” “Grand Prix” and “Seven Days in May,” “The Train” may just be the best of the lot. In a story that has as much texture as the glorious black and white photography from DPs Walter Wottitz (“Army of Shadows”) and Jean Tournier, the story follows disheveled French train controller Paul (Burt Lancaster at his most physically committed and convincing) leading a resistance plot against a ruthless Nazi (a blistering Paul Scofield) who is cynically using the cover of the oncoming end of the war to move a priceless trove of paintings. A fascinating contrast is set up, not just between the blunt, blue-collar, hands-dirty Paul and the cultured, art-obsessed Colonel, but between fighting for survival (as the resistance had been doing until then) versus fighting for less obvious ideals of art and national cultural identity. But it’s also a breathtaking adventure (the screenplay by Franklin Coen and Frank Davis was Oscar-nominated), couched in imagery which attains a degree of realism rarely seen in WWII films —maybe because they actually did everything, from stunts to train collisions, for real.
“Ashes and Diamonds” (1958)
The third entry in Polish director Andrzej Wajda‘s stunningly expressive War Trilogy (after “A Generation” and “Kanal“) “Ashes and Diamonds” is probably the most complex of the lot. Detailing a period in which a segment of Poland’s resistance fighters went straight from battling German occupiers to covertly fighting the Stalinist rule that followed, the film gives profound, if fatalistic, insight into the kind of nihilist desperation that ensues when resistance becomes a longstanding way of life. It follows two such “cursed soldiers”: the senior, ruthless Andrzej (Adam Pawlikowski) and the younger, seemingly cynical but actually romantic Maciek (Zbigniew Cybulski, reportedly deliberately modeling his shades-wearing character on James Dean). Tasked with the assassination of a communist commissar, the lines of loyalty and duty become blurred as Maciek falls for a barmaid, their informant tries to turn the tables on them and the commissar himself learns that his estranged son is being held in a Red Army detention camp. But the real power of the film is that its images are so pregnant with meaning that Wajda could get this scathing critique past the censors by presenting a particular party-friendly reading as his intention, when in fact the film has the opposite effect.
“Soldier of Orange” (1977)
Paul Verhoeven‘s 149-minute Dutch-language epic is not the only one of his films to deal with the resistance —2007’s “Black Book” starring Carice Van Houten somewhat combines his later Hollywood-period erotic thriller aesthetic with the wartime story of a female resistance fighter who falls in love with her Nazi officer target to thrilling, often salacious effect. But “Soldier of Orange” is perhaps even more interesting and provocative, following upper-class best friends Erik (Rutger Hauer) and Guus (Jeroen Krabbe) on their journey of reluctant radicalization from the tennis parties and college initiations of the immediate pre-war period through romantic entanglements and daring escape missions for their Jewish friends, even across the water to London where they are recruited to the Dutch war effort by none other than the exiled Queen Wilhelmina. Based on the memoir of the real Erik Hazelhoff Roelfzema and shot by future director Jan de Bont, the film is one of the most expensive and popular homegrown Dutch films ever, but its most lasting impact is in its study of imploding class structure and riven interpersonal relationships in the crucible of a war that politicized even the most apolitical, hedonistic and decadent of young men.
“The Bridge On The River Kwai” (1957)
You could probably make an argument that the POW Camp movie —from “The Great Escape” and “Stalag 17” to “Unbroken”— is a distinct genre from the resistance movie, but “The Bridge On The River Kwai” is a film that (apologies for the pun) bridges the two, given how it revolves around the question of resistance vs. compliance. David Lean’s Oscar-winning epic is set in a camp in Burma, where all prisoners, regardless of rank, are ordered to aid the construction of a railway bridge. Senior British officer Lieutenant Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guinness, who deservedly won an Oscar for Best Actor for this role) initially balks at the orders, but eventually relents with the idea that he can use the work to keep his men’s morale up and show the superiority of British engineering, while American escapee Shears (William Holden) plans to destroy the bridge. It’s stirring, sweeping stuff that marked Lean’s move into widescreen spectacular, but it’s also remarkably complex, digging into issues of class, the end of the British Empire, and the futility, or otherwise, of the fight. It stands just as mightily today as it did sixty years ago.
