Friday, May. 29, 1964

The Nature of the Beast

The Thin Red Line. The only good soldier is a crazy soldier. In James Jones's story of the ghastly campaign on Guadalcanal, this thesis was expounded with passion, and in the picture adapted from the novel it is developed with vigor. But somehow, when the stereophonic tumult and the dubbed-in shouting dies, the spectator senses that once again he has been told the tale of the crusty sergeant and the sensitive dogface who fought each other as hard as they fought the enemy but at last became buddies in battle on the island of Twaddlebanal.

The dogface (Keir Dullea) is scared and the sergeant (Jack Warden) knows it. "You think this whole stinkin' war has just got one purpose--to knock you off," he sneers. First day ashore, the purpose is almost achieved. A Japanese sniper wings the private and then moves in for the kill. But when the private sees the bayonet he goes beast, and when he comes to his senses again the sniper has been reduced to sukiyaki. "That was close, wasn't it?" the sergeant sniggers softly in the private's ear. "And now you feel guilty because you found out you like to kill."

"You're crazy!" the private screams, and no doubt the sergeant really is crazy, but he is also right. The private does like to kill, and every time he kills he likes it more. He likes it as much as the sergeant does, and he hates the sergeant because the sergeant won't let him forget that they are tigers of the same stripe, who go mad when they smell blood. When there is blood to smell, the tigers infest the screen with danger and excitement. When there isn't, and in every third or fourth scene there isn't, they suffer an embarrassing transformation. They begin to purr like patriotic pussycats, and their stripes turn suddenly red, white and blue.

Nevertheless, for observers who survive the crossfire of cliches, Line has some real rewards. Director Andrew Marton has put together a couple of masterly melees. And in the character of the private he has described with horrifying clarity the nature of the beast in men and nations that perennially threatens to engender Armageddon.

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