PicoBlog

Two summers ago, I was driving on a South Dakota reservation with a film crew and Catholic journalist, following a group of Knights of Columbus trying to advance the cause of Nicholas Black Elk, a Lakota Native American catechist. During the long drive, we discussed faith, fatherhood (most of the passengers had small infants and newborns), and films — but one topic initiated by a fellow traveler was “What would be the movie you’d want to show your son?”

Now if God ever blesses me with fatherhood as a vocation, that will truly be miraculous. And though I was the lone traveler in that van with no children, nevertheless, I answered with the 1964 classic, ‘Zulu.’

The epic movie depicts the Anglo-Zulu 1879 battle when nearly 150 British soldiers’ defended Rorke’s Drift — a mission station and medical outpost — against more than 3,000 Zulu warriors. With an array of characters led by Stanley Baker and Michael Caine, anxiety-inducing anticipation, and then a relentless onslaught consuming more than an hour-plus of screen time, ‘Zulu’ is one of the best — and perhaps underrated — war films ever executed. Other filmmakers recognize its genius, with Best Director recipient Peter Jackson citing ‘Zulu’ as an inspiration for his filming of the Battle of Helm’s Deep in ‘Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.’

However, to yours truly, its nostalgic. As a youngin, my older siblings and I watched ‘Zulu’ with my dad; and, later on, it became staple viewing with my older brother (and we had to eat Ellio’s Pizzas — so move over popcorn!). Meanwhile, John Barry’s music, quotable lines (especially “I came here to build a bridge” and “Hitch, I saw you, you’re alive”) amongst other elements have been ingrained in the Fowler family lexicon.

(Side note: To those who’ve lived through all five Fowlers kids being in the same room…I’m sorry)

Today, my family and I might be considered ‘right-wing extremists’ for watching the movie if we lived in the United Kingdom. The British government’s Prevent — a counter terrorism policing agency — recently categorized the 1964 movie, along with ‘The Bridge of the River Kwai,’ ‘Brave New World,’ ‘Tinker Tailor Solider Spy,’ ‘The Lord of the Rings’ books, and the complete works of Shakespeare among other giants of English literature as “possible sources of inspiration for terrorist groups and far-right extremists.”

The movie was Caine’s big break, propelling him into future stardom. When asked about the film’s inclusion on the list, his curt, furious reaction was as follows: “That is the biggest load of b******* I have ever heard.”

However, some in British journalism find the extremist label earned, with The Guardian publishing an op-ed by Peter Bradshaw stating, “By turning an armed invasion into a plucky underdog story, the classic war movie propagated a very dubious British mythology” — the author’s point being those soldiers defending Rorke’s Drift were not defenders as the film portrays. In fact, the Zulus were justified “defending an unprovoked attack on their territory by an invader with superior weaponry.”

In a David versus Goliath scenario as depicted in ‘Zulu,’ who is actually David? Who is the Goliath? It is this author’s impression that to the modern-day progressive — or even the conservative led British government — the 150 British soldiers at Rorke’s Drift are not David, but a cog in the imperialistic machine, employed to enslave weaker nations to the West’s whims. Therefore, the characters the film follows should not receive sympathy, but retribution.

Compounding the film’s ‘issues’ is the racial aspect with the black, African army characterized as the antagonists against the white, British protagonists, since it’s shot from the latter’s perspective. Naturally, viewers who appreciate the film must support unadulterated nationalism and/or have extreme racial biases, right?

However, viewing ‘Zulu’ through this lens is both simplistic and misguided, missing the film’s primary intent.

‘Zulu’ opens with a communique — read by legendary actor Richard Burton — about the British Army’s losses in the Battle of Isandlwana against the African warrior nation. Burton’s narration is drowned out by roaring fires on the South African plains, while the camera pans across the numerous dead (a shot repurposed in the opening sequences of 1970s ‘Patton’). Immediately, the viewer knows the mighty Zulus are not one to be underestimated, even when faced with more superior weaponry. And in this scene, the film is shot anthropologically by director Cy Endfield — not with a bias, but more so aligned with ‘direct cinema’: an objective, exploratory perspective.

This cinematic eye carries throughout the film, as evidenced by the next scene, showing a Zulu marriage overseen by the king, with Swedish missionaries Rev. Otto Witt (Jack Hawkins) and his daughter Maragreta Witt (Ulla Jacobsson) as guests. The daughter is troubled by the ceremony, stating, “How can they let themselves be married in droves like this — young girls to old men.” Her father promptly replies, “In Europe, young women accept arranged marriages with rich men. Perhaps the Zulu girls are luckier, getting a brave man.”

Is that not an example of cultural relativism? Meanwhile, Endfield sprinkles similar sentiments throughout ‘Zulu.’ As an impending force marches toward Rorke’s Drift, it chugging along like a freight train in the African landscape, non-British workers abandon their duties, fleeing from the station. Lt. Bromhead (Caine) chastises them, calling them “Cowardly blacks!” Yet he is swiftly reprimanded by South African Gert Adendorff, who had just survived the Battle of Isandlwana, “What the hell do you mean ‘cowardly blacks?’ They died on your side, didn’t they?” Later in the film, another soldier during the course of the battle comments that the Zulus “got more guts.”

Even at the battle’s conclusion, the Zulus (literally) sing the British defender’s praises, “saluting fellow braves.” There is an inherent anti-racist message imbued in the film — both the British and Zulus are, in short, cut from the same cloth: they are warriors. Each side gives the other respect for being such. If ‘Zulu’ were a nationalistic film, the final shot might have been the Union Jack flying triumphantly over the South African sky; instead, the shot is of Lt. Chard planting a Zulu shield in the ground, akin to one planting a flag. The audience, along with Chard, also comes to respect the Zulus, who showed bravery and tactful strategy throughout the battle. The African warriors are not mindless, backward monsters — and they are not projected as such by Endfield or any of the characters.

What is extremist about anti-racism and saluting your fellow man?

(Side note: Even the Zulu camp and Rorke’s Drift are shot similarly, as specks in the vast, enormous South African landscape, perhaps symbolizing how small this conflict is in the grand scheme of things)

Ultimately, Endfield lays more judgment at Britain’s feet in initially underestimating its foe. However, the director does not levy criticism toward the British soldiers for its imperialism when he, more than likely, held anti-imperialist views as a blacklisted communist sympathizer. Concurrently, there is no nationalistic “rah rah” pride in the British victory. As the inexperienced Bromhead states after the battle, he feels “sick” and “ashamed” following his first thrash in combat, inquiring how Chard stomached his past battle experiences. To the former’s surprise, Chard responds, “You think I could stand this butcher’s yard more than once?”

‘Zulu’ is an anti-war movie, as most of them are, but without the heavy-handedness of telling you so (except for one instance where the military doctor damns Chard after a young soldier dies on the operating table). If the film evokes any sense of nationalistic pride, it’s only for the British soldiers’ bravery sustaining wave after wave by a much larger force. They stood their ground and performed their duty, not succumbing to cowardice — even if they were “all going to die,” as the Rev. Witt warns.

After the reverend is driven away, lest he spark cowardice in the ranks, Pvt. Cole (Gary Bond) asks Colour Sgt. Bourne (Nigel Green), “Why us?” The latter flatly replies, “Because we’re here, lad. Nobody else. Just us.”

Time and time again, injured soldiers re-enter the fray; even those sick in the hospital participate, fighting for their lives and their brethren. Chard and Bromhead, first at odds over command of the defense, periodically lift each other, both physically and spiritually throughout the battle. But when the dust settles, and the Zulus halt their attacks, Colour Sgt. Bourne claims their survival is a “miracle.” Lt. Chard responds, “If it’s a miracles, Colour Sergeant, it’s a short chamber Boxer Henry .45 caliber miracle.” With a raised brow, Bourne says, “And a bayonet, sir, with some guts behind.”

What is extremist for having an appreciation of soldiers, representing your nation, not crumbling to cowardice — of fighting to the end — in a real event?

After rewatching ‘Zulu’ for the nth time, Caine’s reaction is justifiable, as the British government has failed to recognize the merits within the 1964 war film; yet the culture continues marching down the path of self-loathing. But Prevent’s list makes one suspect if anyone in the agency actually watched the movie.

As for yours truly, ‘Zulu’ is a spectacle, and a film I have revisited because of Prevent’s list (which may be an unintended consequence of their bureaucratic virtue-signaling) — and one I’ll continue revisiting, perhaps one day, hopefully, with a son like my dad did with my siblings and me.

Appendix I: If you’re looking for more historical background on the Battle of Rorke’s Drift, listen to historian Victor Davis Hanson’s insights in one of his latest podcast episodes…which my dad just so happens appears on as well!

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