Samuel Morison, the official U. S. Navy historian for World War II, disapproved of Admiral William F. Halsey, calling him "a sailor's admiral," whereas Halsey's superior, Ernest King, was "an admiral's admiral." This is probably because Morison was a Boston Brahmin and believed that salty language and flagrant self display should be avoided. Maybe it endeared you to the enlisted men but it was undignified. You should also be elegantly modest and not given to flashy pronouncements like "Attack -- repeat -- attack," and "Kill Japs. Kill more Japs." The story begins with Halsey's retirement in 1945, having a last cup of coffee, served by his loyal Fillipino steward, Manuel, whose name Cagney pronounces Manual, as in "Instructor's Manual." Cagney asks Manuel which campaign he thinks of most often. Manuel concentrates and finally replies, "Guadalcanal." WHAM. Into a flashback of Halsey's miseries and triumphs in Guadalcanal.
But if the viewer expects a lot of slam-bang combat and heroic trumpets, he doesn't get it. Instead we see a quiet black-and-white account of Cagney's playing the most famous American Admiral of the war, during the months of battle on the island and on the sea around it. Not a shot is fired. There is hardly a ship or an airplane in sight. All the combat is off screen. There are few outdoor shots. The director, Robert Montgomery, sticks close to Cagney, follows him from room to room as he is haunted by the decisions he must make, or as he tries to avoid the five hypodermics waiting for him in the doc's office. It's a straightforward story that adheres to its subject. There are no women's roles in the film, and we learn virtually nothing about Cagney's home life.
How does Cagney play it? Pretty well. It's his least mannered performance. He never shouts or jabs his forefinger at anyone. He wears glasses and looks dumpy. And he moves slowly, slightly bent, as if burdened with a responsibility that weighs him down like a stone. With his eyebrows darkened, he even LOOKS quite a bit like Halsey.
The script treats the character with respect, just as it treats the Japanese officers, of whom we see a little bit. Halsey is shown as thoughtful, a little skeptical of any good luck, generous with praise, practically flawless, in fact -- except for that business with the syringes, which he finally stands up to. The film was released ten years before "Patton" established a genre, or pseudo-genre, of heroes who had, as John Wayne once put it, "the Yuman feeta clay." Halsey is presented as a plain old hero, and the film more or less fills in the blanks about what KIND of hero he was. By the end, with the exception of having to make risky decisions that are forced upon him by circumstance, we are left to conclude that he was the kind of hero that might just as easily have been a contemplative monk. The movie is a little slow at times.
The traditional iron-hard heroic features are missing. At one point, Cagney even says that, since two people in a row have suggested "the admiral might change his mind," that maybe he actually SHOULD change his mind. But then he has to go and vitiate the point by adding, after a pause, that "you don't change your mind. You just go in a different direction." Oh, heck. And here I was, hoping we'd see a leader who was capable of admitting mistakes, adapting to circumstances, and actually changing his mind.
And, man, did Halsey have reasons for admitting mistakes. What a different movie it would have been if, at the beginning, Manuel had replied, not "Guadalcanal," but something like, "I always think about the typhoons, Admiral," or, "How about the battle of Leyte Gulf?" However, okay, the world was not ready, and if you must cover only one campaign out of the many that Halsey was involved in, it might as well be a victory.
But if the viewer expects a lot of slam-bang combat and heroic trumpets, he doesn't get it. Instead we see a quiet black-and-white account of Cagney's playing the most famous American Admiral of the war, during the months of battle on the island and on the sea around it. Not a shot is fired. There is hardly a ship or an airplane in sight. All the combat is off screen. There are few outdoor shots. The director, Robert Montgomery, sticks close to Cagney, follows him from room to room as he is haunted by the decisions he must make, or as he tries to avoid the five hypodermics waiting for him in the doc's office. It's a straightforward story that adheres to its subject. There are no women's roles in the film, and we learn virtually nothing about Cagney's home life.
How does Cagney play it? Pretty well. It's his least mannered performance. He never shouts or jabs his forefinger at anyone. He wears glasses and looks dumpy. And he moves slowly, slightly bent, as if burdened with a responsibility that weighs him down like a stone. With his eyebrows darkened, he even LOOKS quite a bit like Halsey.
The script treats the character with respect, just as it treats the Japanese officers, of whom we see a little bit. Halsey is shown as thoughtful, a little skeptical of any good luck, generous with praise, practically flawless, in fact -- except for that business with the syringes, which he finally stands up to. The film was released ten years before "Patton" established a genre, or pseudo-genre, of heroes who had, as John Wayne once put it, "the Yuman feeta clay." Halsey is presented as a plain old hero, and the film more or less fills in the blanks about what KIND of hero he was. By the end, with the exception of having to make risky decisions that are forced upon him by circumstance, we are left to conclude that he was the kind of hero that might just as easily have been a contemplative monk. The movie is a little slow at times.
The traditional iron-hard heroic features are missing. At one point, Cagney even says that, since two people in a row have suggested "the admiral might change his mind," that maybe he actually SHOULD change his mind. But then he has to go and vitiate the point by adding, after a pause, that "you don't change your mind. You just go in a different direction." Oh, heck. And here I was, hoping we'd see a leader who was capable of admitting mistakes, adapting to circumstances, and actually changing his mind.
And, man, did Halsey have reasons for admitting mistakes. What a different movie it would have been if, at the beginning, Manuel had replied, not "Guadalcanal," but something like, "I always think about the typhoons, Admiral," or, "How about the battle of Leyte Gulf?" However, okay, the world was not ready, and if you must cover only one campaign out of the many that Halsey was involved in, it might as well be a victory.