Based on a real event in 1864, it's an interesting historical tale. A dozen or so Confederate soldiers escape from a Union prison and make it to Canada where they join a band of other escaped Confederates. After casing the small town of St. Albans, Vermont, they don their uniforms, raid the town, make off with the horses and the banks' money, and burn the buildings.
I don't know how closely the film hews to historical fact and I'm too lazy to look it up but, as it stands, it's not badly done. There's nothing resembling grace in Hugo Fregonene's direction or in the dialog but the performances are entirely professional. That's only to be expected from such a seasoned cast.
It's a narrative that contrasts ideologues and pragmatists, a subject of interest in some circles today. Lee Marvin as a Confederate lieutenant and Richard Boone as a guilt-ridden Union officer are ready to kill and die for their principles, even though the Civil War was virtually over by the time of the raid. Both are filled with loathing for the other side. The principle they stand for seem not to be states' rights or slavery but self actualization. Some of the town's good citizens are equally filled with righteous wrath towards the South.
Boone survives after a futile defense but Marvin does not. This is Lee Marvin in his villainous mode. We get a generous portion of that baleful stare and we are forced to acknowledge that pendulous lower lip. And when Lee Marvin dies on screen, he really DIES. When he's shot he never slumps quietly to the floor grasping his belly. No. He twirls around and throws his arms awkwardly about. He does pirouettes. He does majestic leaps during which he seems to hang in the air. He does handstands, somersaults, and back flips. He does a grand jete en tournant. The audience applauds wildly, recklessly, as Marvin does a toe dance and for his renowned finale performs a superlative cancan. A few bluenoses razz his frilly underpants but he carries on undaunted until he slides to the floor, a dying swan. And when he finally stops rolling over, his tongue lolling out, there's no doubt that he is well and truly dead.
The rebel leader is Van Heflin and he's a pragmatist. Regardless of the progress of the war, he's a major in the Confederate Army and he acts like one. The raid for him, as for most of the others, is an act of war, not just an expression of hatred. The raid (he hopes) will draw Federal soldiers from the south, and the money they steal will buy Enfield rifles from the British. It may be too late but that doesn't absolve him of his responsibility.
I don't know what the covert message of the film is, although I'm sure there must be one. Maybe it's summed up when Heflin points out to Anne Bancroft that Sherman has been marching through Georgia, burning and looting and killing. Bancroft understands that. But would she understand why Confederates might do the same thing to St. Albans? I don't think that even-steven ploy would have worked if this were a movie about World War II and the Germans pillaged a town in Vermont. But both sides are rather balanced here, which is a step or two above "Gone With the Wind," in which the despised Yankees were all rats.
I don't know how closely the film hews to historical fact and I'm too lazy to look it up but, as it stands, it's not badly done. There's nothing resembling grace in Hugo Fregonene's direction or in the dialog but the performances are entirely professional. That's only to be expected from such a seasoned cast.
It's a narrative that contrasts ideologues and pragmatists, a subject of interest in some circles today. Lee Marvin as a Confederate lieutenant and Richard Boone as a guilt-ridden Union officer are ready to kill and die for their principles, even though the Civil War was virtually over by the time of the raid. Both are filled with loathing for the other side. The principle they stand for seem not to be states' rights or slavery but self actualization. Some of the town's good citizens are equally filled with righteous wrath towards the South.
Boone survives after a futile defense but Marvin does not. This is Lee Marvin in his villainous mode. We get a generous portion of that baleful stare and we are forced to acknowledge that pendulous lower lip. And when Lee Marvin dies on screen, he really DIES. When he's shot he never slumps quietly to the floor grasping his belly. No. He twirls around and throws his arms awkwardly about. He does pirouettes. He does majestic leaps during which he seems to hang in the air. He does handstands, somersaults, and back flips. He does a grand jete en tournant. The audience applauds wildly, recklessly, as Marvin does a toe dance and for his renowned finale performs a superlative cancan. A few bluenoses razz his frilly underpants but he carries on undaunted until he slides to the floor, a dying swan. And when he finally stops rolling over, his tongue lolling out, there's no doubt that he is well and truly dead.
The rebel leader is Van Heflin and he's a pragmatist. Regardless of the progress of the war, he's a major in the Confederate Army and he acts like one. The raid for him, as for most of the others, is an act of war, not just an expression of hatred. The raid (he hopes) will draw Federal soldiers from the south, and the money they steal will buy Enfield rifles from the British. It may be too late but that doesn't absolve him of his responsibility.
I don't know what the covert message of the film is, although I'm sure there must be one. Maybe it's summed up when Heflin points out to Anne Bancroft that Sherman has been marching through Georgia, burning and looting and killing. Bancroft understands that. But would she understand why Confederates might do the same thing to St. Albans? I don't think that even-steven ploy would have worked if this were a movie about World War II and the Germans pillaged a town in Vermont. But both sides are rather balanced here, which is a step or two above "Gone With the Wind," in which the despised Yankees were all rats.