In need of some good old fashioned American values from an age when the country was filmed in black and white we dialed up an old favorite recently and strapped in for the heart chunking yarn and score served up in William Wyler’s ode to country, service, honor – The Best Years of Our Lives.
We tend to ration this film, leaning on its messaging and depiction of returning servicemen – each wounded in their own way – every four or five years or so. Our familiarity doesn’t help, though, our hearts and minds captured by Hugo Friedhofer’s rising, oddly timeless score.
For the young or unfamiliar we’re talking about a movie made in 1946, the country shaking off the pain and scars of a long, draining war, Wyler introducing us to three World War II servicemen, each from a different branch of service and station of society.
The men are making their way back to a shared hometown – Boone City – shagging a ride on a B-17 and an aerial view of the country they left behind, their years away evidenced by the hashmarks on their sleeves.
Al Stephenson (Fredric March) is an assault-hardened sergeant returning from the Pacific Theater to an influential position with a local bank and a life of privilege, but finding it difficult to reconcile what he has seen with his employer’s expectations. Fred Derry (Dana Andrews) is revealed as a rootless, ordinary working man who found it difficult to hold down a job before the war determined he excelled at dropping bombs with the 8th Air Force. Homer Parrish (Harold Russell) is the most visibly scarred of the trio, a sailor who lost his hands during a confusing battle in the Philippine Sea (Russell was actually wounded during a wartime training accident). The men are returning to marriages – some strong, some not – and girlfriends who have yet to see their wounded selves, each facing the crisis many servicemen felt upon their return – and finding a refuge in alcohol.
Their ensuing stories dovetail neatly into the memories we had with men of the era, listening to war stories as they played poker or cribbage, still fit in white t-shirts and with cigarettes dangling at a GI’s angle from their lips.
Their women – rightly credited as the real heroes of the Home Front – are played by the stellar Myrna Loy (Millie Stephenson), Teresa Wright (Peggy Stephenson), Virginia Mayo (Marie Derry), and Cathy O’Donnell (Wilma Cameron). Their strength, foibles, and insecurities become evident as the men attempt to re-enter civilian life, pegged by their “Ruptured Duck” lapel pins and haunted by their wartime experiences.
The stellar cast is buoyed by an equally stellar supporting cast – Hoagy Carmichael, Roman Bohnen, Gladys George, and Ray Collins – who deliver many of the films most heart-tugging moments. There’s even a brief cameo by drummer Gene Krupa.
The Best Years of Our Lives rolls along to a daring – for it’s time – conclusion and proves why it earned Oscars for Best Picture, Best Actor in a Leading Role (March), Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Russell, who was also honored for his portrayal on behalf of veterans), Best Director, Best Writing/Screenplay (Robert E. Sherwood) and Mssr. Friedhofer for his score.
All in all an exceptional movie in our opinion. Some have taken a more critical view, characterizing the film as an overly sentimental dramatization of an America trying to shake off the wounds of a crippling World War.
You be the judge. For us, it reminds us of all those fit young men – most long gone now – telling war stories around a poker table, cigarettes dangling.
