An entertaining story basically of two men, Sam Elliott as Sam Damon, and Cliff Potts as Courtenay Massengale, both career officers in the United States Army, one of them true to his principles, the other given to following self interest. One is good; one is bad. Pick the hero and the villain from the following two choices: (
1) Sam Damon. (2) Courtenay Massengale.
Not much of a brain twister. "Sam", a good old fashioned American name, as in "Uncle Sam." "Damon", two short forceful syllables.
"Courtenay," which sounds like the name of some interior decorator, and "Massengale," which is automatically associated by anyone of a certain age with a harmful feminine douche.
The story begins in World War I, with Elliott following orders within the limits of common sense and his expertise. Massengale and some other no-goodniks simply follow orders, regardless of consequences, and moreover they take credit for the achievements of others.
Elliott falls in love with and marries a headstrong individualist and there follows the usual conflict between the demands of a military career and a wife's not having to worry whether her man will come home to her in a body bag, not to mention the uncomfortable posts in the cultural backwaters. That Darleen Carr happens to be the daughter of a general, Glenn Ford, is a coincidence. Elliott's career stagnates.
Potts, on the other hand, is quick to marry a senator's daughter, Amy Irving. Alas, Potts, for all his energy and thumos, turns out to be impotent. This is a problem for Irving, who turns to drink and to other men. However, her husband's career slogs ahead.
By World War II, both men are generals, though Potts outranks Elliott. Potts cheats and lies profusely and it costs Elliott many of the men under his command, so he finally sees to it that an investigation is launched into Potts' decisions. The final scene has Elliott limping determinedly away while Potts stands in the background, having an apoplectic fit and bellowing threats like, "I'll kill your career!" We all know Potts' game is up, that Elliott will never quit.
It's a good example of an early miniseries like "Winds of War" and follows the dictates of the form. Performors who haven't had roles for years come and go quickly, like the admirable Phyllis Thaxter and Ralph Bellamy. The narrative divides itself into half domestic drama and half the designated subject.
The philosopher Immanuel Kant saw two kinds of moral acts: categorical imperatives that were "right." One way of determining whether an act was right was to ask, "What if everyone did this?" Then there were hypothetical imperatives, which were followed if the answer to the question, "What's in it for me?", was "Plenty."
Elliott is an imperfect example of the good guy because he has human failings that manifest themselves in a fling overseas with an English nurse, Juliet Mills. But Potts follows hypothetical imperatives almost exclusively. He cares nothing about the consequences of his acts except whatever advantages they bring him.
I liked Anton Myrer's novel, "The Great War," which I read a long time ago. The ease with which he was able to paint a scene with a few well-chosen words left me in awe. I'd like to think that his novel, "Once an Eagle," on which this miniseries is based, is something more than a simple contrast between two men -- one good and one bad. That's comic book stuff.
1) Sam Damon. (2) Courtenay Massengale.
Not much of a brain twister. "Sam", a good old fashioned American name, as in "Uncle Sam." "Damon", two short forceful syllables.
"Courtenay," which sounds like the name of some interior decorator, and "Massengale," which is automatically associated by anyone of a certain age with a harmful feminine douche.
The story begins in World War I, with Elliott following orders within the limits of common sense and his expertise. Massengale and some other no-goodniks simply follow orders, regardless of consequences, and moreover they take credit for the achievements of others.
Elliott falls in love with and marries a headstrong individualist and there follows the usual conflict between the demands of a military career and a wife's not having to worry whether her man will come home to her in a body bag, not to mention the uncomfortable posts in the cultural backwaters. That Darleen Carr happens to be the daughter of a general, Glenn Ford, is a coincidence. Elliott's career stagnates.
Potts, on the other hand, is quick to marry a senator's daughter, Amy Irving. Alas, Potts, for all his energy and thumos, turns out to be impotent. This is a problem for Irving, who turns to drink and to other men. However, her husband's career slogs ahead.
By World War II, both men are generals, though Potts outranks Elliott. Potts cheats and lies profusely and it costs Elliott many of the men under his command, so he finally sees to it that an investigation is launched into Potts' decisions. The final scene has Elliott limping determinedly away while Potts stands in the background, having an apoplectic fit and bellowing threats like, "I'll kill your career!" We all know Potts' game is up, that Elliott will never quit.
It's a good example of an early miniseries like "Winds of War" and follows the dictates of the form. Performors who haven't had roles for years come and go quickly, like the admirable Phyllis Thaxter and Ralph Bellamy. The narrative divides itself into half domestic drama and half the designated subject.
The philosopher Immanuel Kant saw two kinds of moral acts: categorical imperatives that were "right." One way of determining whether an act was right was to ask, "What if everyone did this?" Then there were hypothetical imperatives, which were followed if the answer to the question, "What's in it for me?", was "Plenty."
Elliott is an imperfect example of the good guy because he has human failings that manifest themselves in a fling overseas with an English nurse, Juliet Mills. But Potts follows hypothetical imperatives almost exclusively. He cares nothing about the consequences of his acts except whatever advantages they bring him.
I liked Anton Myrer's novel, "The Great War," which I read a long time ago. The ease with which he was able to paint a scene with a few well-chosen words left me in awe. I'd like to think that his novel, "Once an Eagle," on which this miniseries is based, is something more than a simple contrast between two men -- one good and one bad. That's comic book stuff.