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Zulu. No matter its shortcomings, it is difficult to discredit a film that pulls off an entire second half of nonstop, exciting action in a way that isn’t completely mind-numbing. Zulu’s scenes of war move with intelligence and grace, and its battle sequences are true sights to behold. It’s when the characters open their mouths and actually try to speak real dialogue that the movie deflates: The entire first half is a big, meandering mess of clichés and racial stereotypes. But those battle sequences—wow. Zulu concerns the true, often referenced story of a British supply station that found itself under attack by Zulu warriors in 1870s in the scorching hot African terrain. The warriors’ number was 4000 strong, and they moved from one British post to the next, in an effort to rid their country of unwanted foreigners. The British encampment that finally held them off consisted of only 139 men, who knew that the warriors were coming when they discovered that a neighboring army encampment, consisting of around 1400 British soldiers, had been slaughtered by the tribesmen. Fearing the worst, the small encampment waited for the Zulu warriors to come, and when they finally did, the battle lasted for twelve hours before they fought to a standstill, and the African warriors eventually retreated.
That’s quite a story, and Zulu films half of it right. Fortunately, it’s the half that counts. When the
Zulu warriors finally line the dry, sandy horizon as far as the eye can see and chant their death cries, it is a sight to behold. We sense the terror in this small handful of British officers, whose guns tremble at the sight of these angry warriors. Once the charge takes place and the battle ensues, the suspense, action, and gripping drama never lets ups, and it only releases when the fight finally comes to its standstill. By the end, we wipe our foreheads with the surviving Brits, and wonder as much as they do how on earth they managed to endure against the odds. Director Cy Endfield skillfully makes use of literally every spear thrown, every bullet shot, every order given, every drop of blood shed, and every ounce of sweat spilt. It’s sheer cinema, and it’s quite a ride.The test for the audience will be the trek to the film’s midpoint, when the battle begins. In the meantime, the first half—the buildup—leaves a lot to be desired. Zulu has the distinction of being Michael Caine’s first major film role, but I almost had to have him pointed out to be, because I had such a hard time distinguishing his character from the others. If Endfield is a master at creating gripping scenes of war, then he has a difficult time with the human element. The characters are identifiable only through their clichés—we have the brave commander, the by-the-book lieutenant, the rebellious private, the wild-eyed, apocalyptic clergyman, but none of them rise beyond standard issued movie characters. The dialogue between them is undistinguished, and for the first half, not much happens between these stilted characters.
There is also the racist element in the film, which we are forced to take into consideration. The Zulu warriors are a force to be reckoned with, but only a force. No attempt is given to sympathize with them, or to try to understand why they are attacking the British outposts. They only come across as villains, chanting and raving, but surely any group that would take odds against another group with such war-like hatred must have a motivation. Certainly, history has recorded that the Brits enslaved many Africans, and tried to bring “civilization” to a group that didn’t want it. On that note, the Zulu warriors are almost patriots of sorts, fighting vigorously to defend their old ways and freedoms. The film’s slant is decidedly on the side of British pride, which isn’t a bad approach so much as it is, in the context of society today, offensively one-sided. We can’t help but watch Zulu today and wish that some time had been spent developing the humanity of these warriors, but they really only serve the same function as the creatures in Aliens. They outnumber us, they are monsters, and they are unstoppable.
Yet I recommend the film because of its mesmerizing, electrifying last half, which is one of the most
amazing, unflinching action sequences that I’ve ever seen. The soldiers eventually defeat the warriors by barricading their small post and turning themselves into walls of spraying bullets, but this is a strategy that is only considered late into the game, when all other recourses have been used up in the fight against the warriors. In the meantime, the soldiers must constantly reinvent their strategies, and for over an hour, they remain on the constant defense, barking orders at one another while trying to keep the Zulu warriors from breaking down their barriers and leaping through their windows. Director Endfield edits the battle so that it remains coherent and riveting, and the action never lets up once it starts, drowning out all the misgivings of the film’s first act.By the time the film draws to a close and the commander reads off the names of the men who died, we feel nothing for them as individuals because of the lack of good character development. But we do get a perfect sense of the epic battle that has taken place, and the nearly impossible odds that these British soldiers faced. And that counts from something: One of the primary reasons that we go to the movies is to be taken on a ride of entertainment, and this movie fulfills that goal. As a historical film and a character study, it could have been much better, but I cannot deny the cinematic power of its battle sequences. For dramatic scenes of war, Zulu has rarely found an equal.
Cast:
Nigel Green: Sgt. Bourne
Michael Caine: Lt. Bromhead
Stanley Baker: Lt. Chard
Jack Hawkins: Rev. Witt
James Booth: Pvt. Hook
MGM presents a Diamond Films production. Directed by Cy Endfield. Written by Endfield and John Prebble. Rated PG, for native nudity and intense battle sequences. Running time: 138 minutes. Original United States theatrical release date: June 17, 1964.
Thanks to Danel Griffin's Guide to Cinema.
H.V. Anderz.
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