News of the death of legendary composer John Barry got me perusing through his astoundingly prolific repertoire of classic film scores. Although he is most famous for scoring the many James Bond films (even if his role in penning the original “Dr. No” theme song itself remains in dispute), my personal favorite movie theme by Barry is his overture for the 1964 film Zulu featuring Welsh actor Stanley Baker and a young up-and-coming English actor in his first starring role, Michael Caine. Barry’s powerful opening score is just one of the many reasons I love this flick. In fact, I believe that Zulu is one of the great underrated war movies of all time.
Zulu was directed by blacklisted American screen-writer Cy Enfield who also co-wrote the script with historical writer John Preeble. The film was produced by Enfield and lead actor Baker through the latter’s newly-formed production company, Diamond Films. Zulu was a pet project of Baker’s who worked tirelessly to bring his vision of an article penned by Preeble to the screen.
The film harkens back to the year 1879 during the opening of the Zulu War where lonely British army outpost called Rorke’s Drift sits nestled in the dry and rugged terrain of Natal, South Africa. The little company of mostly Welsh soldiers left to guard the way station and hospital thinks they’re on quiet rear echelon duty when news arrives that their entire regiment of 1,200 men has been ambushed and massacred at the Battle of Isandlwana by the army of Zulu king Cetewayo (played in the film by the real Zulu chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi). To make matters worse, 4,000 of them are now headed their way, hell bent on destroying the tiny garrison of just over 100 men.
Tension builds within the command structure as the infantry company c.o. Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead (Caine) must relinquish control to the visiting Royal Engineers Lt. John Chard (Baker) who, though it’s not his unit, has seniority nonetheless. Ordered to hold their ground, Chard applies his engineer’s eye to the problem and orders the garrison to construct a concentric series of defense lines from overturned wagons, crates and mealie bags…with a final redoubt at its core. While the preparations for the attack are underway, the post is visited by a variety of characters.
Natal native contingent militiaman Ardendorff (Gert Van den Bergh) has just escaped from Isandlwana. The Boer–who ironically will soon be waging bitter war against the British himself–agrees to stay and act as military consultant.
Next is Swedish pastor Otto Witt (Jack Hawkins) and his lovely daughter Margareta (Ulla Jacobsson). Witt, who has just come from a mass wedding in Cetewayo’s kraal, tries in vain to convince Chard to let him evacuate the sick but Chard needs every rifle. Despairing over what he sees as an impending massacre, Witt retreats into a drunken stupor while shouting demoralizing prophecies of impending doom at the rank and file. When he convinces the native levies to abandon their posts and run for their lives, Chard sends him and his daughter away. The Zulus, to their credit, let them go.
Finally, a troop of Boer cavalrymen pass through but refuse to stay. Bromhead, still smarting over Chard’s usurpation of his authority, offers no assistance, telling him that “when in command, old boy, you’re own your own.”
When the Zulus do arrive, their display of strength is awesome. Formed up along the hilltops is an imposing line of battle 4,000 warriors strong. The little command at Rorke’s Drift seems to have moments to live. But thanks to Chard’s defense in depth scheme, through some of the coolest combat scenes in film, we watch the well-drilled redcoats beat back wave after wave of attackers from behind their hastily constructed ramparts well into the night and the following morning. In that time Bromhead comes to appreciate the wisdom of Chard’s plan and goes from being an unwilling subordinate to a reliable second in command.
The final Zulu assault pushes the company to the very brink, with their backs literally up against the wall of their redoubt. But volley after volley tears into the condensed native ranks and they eventually break off leaving their dead strewn in a heap literally at the feet of the exhausted Welshmen. When the Zulus return yet again, they do so only to offer a solemn salute from the hills down to their British “fellow braves” in the smoking valley below and then move on. The battle is over.
Besides Barry’s tremendous score. Beyond the cinematography and brilliantly choreographed battle scenes. And setting aside Richard Burton’s voice-over in the beginning and the end of the film, what makes Zulu so appealing is that it went out of its way to try and show both sides of the story here. (Even a third side of you consider the Boer viewpoint). It has been compared to an old fashioned cowboy and Indian western, but in those films the Indians were portrayed as the savage villains and the settlers as the helpless innocents. Zulu offers no such binary notion.
On many occasions in fact, the idea of Black inferiority is harshly rebuked whenever prejudice rears its ugly head in the ranks. When Bromhead wonders how an entire regiment of 800 British regulars could be wiped out by “the fuzzies” as he calls them, Ardenforff reminds him that there were 400 native levies with them. “Damn the levies man,” spits Bromhead. “More cowardly Blacks!” Ardendorff can barely restrain himself: “What the devil do you mean ‘cowardly blacks’ they died fighting on your side didn’t they? And who do you think is coming here to wipe out your little command? The Grenadier Guards!?”
Even Otto Witt tries to teach his daughter that European ways are not always the correct ways while observing a mass wedding as Cetewayo’s honored guest. “In Europe, women accept arranged marriages with rich men. Perhaps the Zulu girls are luckier. They’re getting a brave man…. They are a great people daughter!”
Other examples of respect for the Zulus abound. In the opening communiqué about Isandlwana, the Zulu attack is described as “highly disciplined.” At other times they are shown as exceptionally brave warriors who earn the respect of the Welshmen they’re trying to kill: “They’ve got more guts ‘an we ‘ave by all!” cries one ranker. And in the end, we know that they can destroy the depleted and thirsty company with one more attack, but they let them live in a gesture of fellowship among soldiers.
Considering this film was produced in 1964, just as the Civil Rights movement was gathering steam and at a time when genuine white racism (not the fabricated Al Sharpton variety) was still quite prevalent, the portraying of the Zulus as more or less equals before a Western audience was a refreshing statement. The film was well-received accordingly.
Now, I admit that this movie is overflowing with historical inaccuracies to be sure. Some of them minor (For example, Chard’s command was never a question as he had four years seniority, not four months as depicted in the film.) Company B of the 2nd Battalion, 24th Regiment of Foot had many more Englishmen than Welshman at the time. The real Otto Witt cooperated fully and only left to tend to his family nearby. Private Henry Hook, who won the Victoria Cross for bravely defending the hospital, was portrayed by James Booth as a drunkard and slacker before rising to the occasion. In fact, Hook was a teetotaller and a model soldier who’d just received good conduct pay! Poetic license is one thing. But Hook’s family was (justifiably) incensed over this insult to their father’s memory and actually walked out of the premier in protest.
With that said though, if you wish to really enjoy a spellbinding war flick (without the gore of the modern genre) then rent Zulu. It has such great characters from the indomitable Colour-Sergeant Bourne, portrayed by the hulking Nigel Greene, to the irascible Surgeon Reynolds played by Patrick Magee (“damn ya Chard! Damn all you butchers!”). The South African scenery is beautiful. The pageantry of the early Zulu wedding and then the final dueling war songs – the Zulus chanting while the company sings “Men Of Harlech” – can only be described as magnificent. And Barry’s score is powerful. Finally, there is the message itself which, in a harbinger of the anti-war overtones in movies to come, is that there are no winners in war…just the dead, sprawled out on a patch of valueless dirt fought over by kids far from home with no business being there in the first place, but for their orders from on high. When a young boy with his dying breath asks “Why?” Surgeon Reynolds can only say: “You’ll sleep now boy. But I’m damned if I can tell you why.”
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