The Hill

Movies about war have been around for about as long as movies have been around. It’s been covered like a blanket – Every era, every war; as drama, as action, as comedy, and as satire. The concept of “War is Hell” has been given a good work-out, going back to stuff like All Quiet on the Western Front, up to Saving Private Ryan. Sidney Lumet’s The Hill, from 1965, stands a bit apart from other war films. It has the brutality, abuse, and fear, but what makes it different is where those things come from – your own side.

The entirety of The Hill takes place during World War 2 in an unnamed British military prison in northern Africa. Literally the first thing we see in the film is the hill itself, as an exhausted soldier struggles to climb to the top, then collapses. Lumet pans way, showing other unfortunate souls doing the same impossible climb. This pan shows us the rest of the camp, and all the inmates exercising, but at no time is the hill not on the screen. It’s right in the middle of the prison and towers over everything as the most visible, intimidating thing there.

Sergeant-Major Wilson (Harry Andrews) runs this camp, and it’s immediately evident that he is the toughest, hardest man around. He talks to the prison doctor (Michael Redgrave) about a new lot of prisoners coming in, and he is brittle in tone when he speaks of them; “There’s a push on. As soon as there’s a bit of action, the layabouts will want to get in here.” Wilson also already knows that one of the new prisoners will be Roberts (Sean Connery), an officer who is in for attacking his commanding officer. Wilson takes special interest in Roberts, at least partly due to the fact that Roberts is an equal rank to him.

Wilson, as played by Lumet veteran Andrews, is an interesting character. Around the prisoners, he has all the charm of a fistful of ball bearings. He has an early scene with a couple of his sergeants where he laments that “Nobody is going to pin a medal on us”, meaning he is working without the prospect of any battle glory. To me this suggests that he’s got a bit of a chip on his shoulder, and that he thinks he is perceived as being less important than a soldier in combat. This also is an early clue as to why he seems determined to break Roberts, who has certainly seen a lot of action. At the same time, there is something approaching sentimentality about Wilson. Listen to him as he addresses a couple of prisoners who are being discharged, and you will hear something like pride in taking, as he puts it, “The dregs, the dross, the filth of the gutters” and turning them out as good soldiers.

The initial meeting between Wilson and Roberts establishes two proud, stubborn men. We already know that Wilson is going to take a special interest in Roberts, and Roberts pretty much figures this out, as well. When Wilson points out the hill to Roberts, he is chirpy, not deferential, and suggests that “I suspect you have plans for me.” Does he ever.

It’s during this opening sequence that we first meet another character who is going to be central to the story. Sergeant Williams (Ian Hendry) is a man who has come to serve directly from working in a civilian prison, and immediately gives off a bad vibe. Standing ramrod straight, and with his hat pulled low over his eyes, Williams shows no outward signs of humanity. He’s hard and unyielding, and he wastes no time in torturing the new arrivals on the hill, with special attention to Roberts.

Roberts makes an early perceptive comment to Williams, stating “You’d be a dustman if they gave you a uniform and a couple of men to order around!” This barb scores a direct hit on Williams, and it also points up something that is at the heart of The Hill. That’s the idea of posturing and asserting military authority as surrogate for other things. Wilson has already hinted that he might have some issues with self-image, and Williams seems to use his position of authority to indulge some sadistic leanings. It’s notable that neither Wilson nor Williams have been combat soldiers, and that is also why the presence of Roberts brings out the worst in them. Roberts attacked his commander after he was asked to lead his men into a suicidal attack. The men were led in by another officer, and everyone was killed. That’s why Roberts has no patience for the bluster of Wilson and Williams. He’s lived it, and they haven’t, and that’s partly why they need to dominate him.

The man who Williams chooses as his personal project is Stevens, who arrived with Roberts. Stevens is small physically, and is shy and almost effeminate, making him a perfect target for Williams. It’s not openly stated, but the inference is that the officers might think that Stevens is homosexual. Certainly, Williams makes no bones about the fact that he thinks Stevens is less than a man. This catches the attention of another of the staff, a Sergeant Harris, played by Ian Bannen. Harris is more humane, coming to Wilson at one point to tell him that Williams might be driving Stevens too hard. Harris is friendly and jovial in this scene, but there is no mistaking that he is trying to influence his commanding officer without appearing weak. He’s another example of a man affecting the role that the situation seems to call for.

There is a small little scene between Harris and Stevens that begs closer inspection. Harris pulls Stevens aside after one of his sessions of punishment, and tells him about a “queer” that they had in the camp, and how he was brutalized by the staff. Harris tells the story and refers to the man as “she”. When Stevens retorts “I’m no queer”, Harris says “Who said you were?”, but moves closer to give some advice, saying that Stevens has to learn how to survive. I think it is likely that the Harris character is homosexual, and his offensive description of the other gay man is part of his shield. When he talks about learning to survive, he knows whereof he speaks.

It would be easy, in watching this film, to dismiss the character of Williams as too much of an over-the-top sadistic loon. I think the film sees Williams more as an archetype than an actual person. Just the same, Lumet gives a couple of illustrations, that while not humanizing Williams, at least peel back the façade somewhat. One is a short scene that shows Williams out trying to run the hill in the middle of the night. I think this represents his wondering how he would stack up against the men he brutalizes on the hill. He only makes it up 3 times before he quits. The other scene involves a drinking binge by the officers, where Wilson drinks Williams under the table, then laughs at him. Williams eventually rises from the floor, and marches to Wilson’s tent where he is passed out on the floor. Williams pours his commander one more drink, then leaves. He has to get the last word after Wilson humiliated him.

The turning point of the film is when Stevens dies in his cell after extensive abuse and torture by Williams. Lumet films this scene with extreme, nightmarish close-ups and hand-held camera to amplify the sense of madness and bewilderment of the dying man. The prisoners start to grumble and make noise, and the sadistic guard and his commander close ranks, and scramble to sweep the death under the rug.

Early in the film, Wilson has stated to Williams that he stands by his men, and as the film progresses, we start to see the dark side of that philosophy. Williams abuses the men, Wilson backs him up and issues only a tepid warning to Williams. As now Williams knows that there have been complaints, the abuse escalates. As the men realize that nothing will be done, they stop complaining. Wilson can now state that there is no abuse, because nobody is complaining about it. This hermetically sealed cycle of punishment and recrimination is a perfect Catch-22.

It is a particularity severe beating of Roberts that finally brings things to the breaking point. Harris takes him to the doctor, who has heretofore not really displayed any backbone in dealing with the abuses of the men. Spurred by Harris, he decides to put his foot down and send Roberts to the hospital. Knowing that there will be a formal inquiry, Wilson tries to stop this. Williams steps in to try to blackmail the doctor by pointing out that he declared Stevens fit, and it’s telling that Lumet places Williams in the foreground in this scene, with the supposed commanding office behind him. Wilson has in effect relinquished control of the camp to Williams, and Harris is the one to finally point this out. It had been so subtle that Wilson didn’t even notice it.

The Hill is about war, and is a great film, but it’s not really an anti-war film so much as it is a film about the climate that war creates. War requires men to put aside their fears and do things that may be abhorrent to them. Wilson makes the point that if men are able to opt out of fighting, there would be no army. It is a bitter irony that Roberts says exactly the same thing to one of his cellmates later in the film. There is only the width of a hair between Wilson and Williams, one who takes pride in making a layabout into a soldier, and one who is aroused by heaping degradation on other men. Toughness and sadism are closely linked, and it is the misfortune of these men to be in a place where they are indistinguishable from one another.

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