Imperial Migraines: The Lives of a Bengal Lancer and Simba

Regular readers know that Groggy is an unrepentant Anglophile. After recently checking out several Byron Farwell books, I visited two imperial adventure films: The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (1935) and Simba (1955). These movies are essentially Westerns in a British setting, using frontier warfare to explore issues of race, colonialism and masculinity. However, the films approach the formula in decidedly different fashions.

The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (1935, Henry Hathaway)

The Lives of a Bengal Lancer is a seminal entertainment. It was director Henry Hathaway's breakthrough film, ushering in a wave of imperial adventures like The Charge of the Light Brigade and Gunga Din. Depicting the Raj's "imperial migraine," the unceasing tribal skirmishes on India's Northwest Frontier, it's a fun old-fashioned action film.

Lieutenant Alan McGregor (Gary Cooper) is a brash officer in the 41st Bengal Lancers. He initially butts heads with two new subalterns, the sarcastic Forsythe (Franchot Tone) and Donald Stone (Gregory Cromwell), the son of the regiment's Colonel (Guy Standing). The three men quickly bond, growing disgusted with the Colonel's cold treatment of Donald. Personal matters go aside when Lt. Stone is kidnapped by Mohammed Kahn (Douglass Dumbrille), a rebellious Muslim chieftain. Disobeying the Colonel's orders, McGregor and Forsythe try to rescue Stone - and end up saving the regiment as well.

The Lives of a Bengal Lancer establishes most of the genre tropes. There's a trio of plucky protagonists, stiff-necked Brit officers, treacherous Indians and a finale where the heroes save an army from ambush. Hathaway focuses on regimental comraderie, the initially disparate heroes who form a brotherly bond and learn the value of patriotism. It's also extremely solemn, occasionally to its detriment. All the platitudes about regimental loyalty make one wish for Gunga Din's irreverent tricksters or the craven Harry Flashman.

Bengal Lancer is obviously a transplanted Western. The British never subdued the Muslim tribes on its borders, engaging in constant fighting with the Afridis and Pathans, occasionally thrusting into Afghanistan. In this regard, Lancer presages John Ford's Cavalry Trilogy, where perpetual frontier warfare builds a glorious military tradition. The upholding of regimental honor and father-son Stone dynamic certainly resonate with Ford. But few Indian Westerns feature so delicious a villain as the affably devious Mohammed Kahn: "We have ways of making men talk!"

Henry Hathaway built a career on Westerns and action flicks. Bengal Lancer is fairly slow, dragging in its middle sections, but the focus on character dynamics works well enough. The curtain-raising skirmish is only fair, but the violent, exciting finale provides a wonderful payoff. In a memorable bit, McGregor sling-arms a Vickers machine gun identically to Lee Marvin in The Professionals. Hathaway and Cooper later reteamed on The Real Glory (1939), combating Moro insurgents in the Phillipines with similar derringdo.

Gary Cooper is perfectly cast as a plucky, headstrong hero. Franchot Tone (Mutiny on the Bounty) provides some humor, accidentally charming a cobra with a flute. Richard Cromwell (Young Mr. Lincoln) is overly callow, while Kathleen Burke's (Russian?) femme fatale makes little impression. C. Aubrey Smith (The Four Feathers) and Guy Standing give well-rounded supporting turns, while Douglass Dumbrille makes a surprisingly likeable villain. Akim Tamaroff (Lord Jim) and J. Carroll Naish (Rio Grande) have smaller parts.

Simba (1955, Brian Desmond Hurst)

If The Lives of a Bengal Lancer is a John Ford film in khaki, Simba is a colonial Broken Arrow. Brian Desmond Hurst's look at Kenya's Mau Mau Rebellion is an underrated political drama.

Alan Howard (Dirk Bogarde) arrives in Kenya to find his brother killed by the Mau Mau, a secret society of nationalist rebels. Encouraged by hardnosed Inspector Drummond (Donald Sinden), Howard instantly develops a hatred for the natives. Sweetheart Mary (Virginia McKenna) tries to convince Howard to see the good in Africans, citing the educated, friendly Dr. Karanja (Earl Cameron) as evidence. But the Mau Mau's escalating violence, and Karanja's possible connections to them, grievously complicate matters.

The Mau Mau rising was still ongoing when Simba was made. British dispossession of Kikyu tribal land inspired resentment against white settlers. A radical secret society, the Mau Maus engaged in a terror campaign, murdering thousands of Africans and a few dozen Britons. Britain declared a state of emergency, initiating a brutal crackdown (including mass arrests and concentration camps) that crushed the revolt. The Mau Maus forced concessions that led to Kenyan independence, but their violent legacy remains mixed.

Simba presents a disqueting portrait of colonial violence. The Mau Maus deliberately target moderate, well-liked Brits, hoping to polarize Kenyan opinion. Stewart stages a prolonged murder scene in chilling detail. The settlers react in a variety of ways, some advocating punitive violence while others encouraging a more moderate approach. This dramatic balances doesn't match the historical record, where even the military grew disgusted with settler intransigence. On the other hand, the movie never considers whether the Mau Maus have legitimate grievances, portraying them as simple, inscrutable fanatics.

The main thrust is racial tolerance, and Simba scores here too. Karanja is a wonderfully drawn character. Likeable and Western-educated, he nonetheless readily stands up to bigots and interlopers. A black man with pride and a spine, he compares well to Sidney Poitier's roles in contemporary American films. Howard's arc is more predictable but it's not a straight evolution; writer John Baines allows his racism to develop situationally, using Mary as a foil. In the tragic finale however, a middle ground can't be found: eradicating the Mau Mau takes precedence over tolerance.

Simba stands especially tall next to its peers. One egregious example is John Guillermin's Guns at Batasi (1961). Posing as a "significant" drama about African decolonialization, it falls back on condescension and war movie cliches. The African characters (including Earl Cameron) are fanatics or fools who pose no threat to the plucky Brit heroes. Whatever its liberal intent, Batasi plays very badly today, while Simba holds up reasonably well.

Dirk Bogarde makes a fine conflicted hero, in one of his first "serious" parts. Virginia McKenna (Carve Her Name With Pride) is an interesting character, a passionate liberal who packs a revolver just to be safe. Earl Cameron does an excellent job, playing Karanja as tough, smart and highly moral. Donald Sinden (The Day of the Jackal) plays a straightlaced policeman and Basil Sydney (John Paul Jones) and Marie Ney (The Lavender Hill Mob) make a strong impression as a doomed English couple.

Exeunt April! In spite of work and other things this was an extremely productive blogging month. Thanks to all of my loyal readers and here's to a super May.