Churchill

Churchill’s anxieties about the looming D-Day invasion of France provides an insightful analysis of the elements of leadership, especially in war.

One key theme lies in his wavering between “valour” and “pride” as he plans to correct allies Eisenhower and Montgomery. He settles on “valour,” appending “pride” then dropping it. In the central thrust of this film Churchill needs sufficient pride to remain active but not so much as to imperil his wisdom and strategy. 

This Churchill is understandably roiled by his loss of stature over the years of the war, especially his eclipse by the late-comer Americans. His vanity threatens to undermine the mission, as he militates against the Allies’ invasion plans. The old soldier resents the loss of military authority in his political position. He’d rather wear the general’s uniform than the PM’s britches. 

Only the king’s change of mind prevents Churchill’s insistence on personally leading the invasion — with the king aboard as well— regardless of the dangers. Fortunately, wiser heads prevailed. 

  And yet there is virtue even in that mad proposal. The old soldier wants to lead his young charges not send them, especially into such mortal danger. “Follow me” is a more virtuous and effective call than “Get out there!”  

  Churchill is also paralyzed by his personal depression. History tells us he had that under control by that time, but director Teplitzky finds a deeper truth in having his Churchill paralyzed by the prospect of sacrificing thousands of his young troops in the mission. Churchill remains haunted by the slaughter he witnessed at Gallipoli, which helps account for his fear of the Allies’ all-in plans for the invasion. His stubbornness is a matter of responsibility as much as vanity. 

The film is framed by two scenes of Churchill walking the beach. In the first the tide evokes the blood shed at Gallipoli and he envisions the mass of dead young soldiers left ashore. His bowler blowing off and away even suggests he’s flipped his lid. Not without cause. At the end his walk is cleared of that haunting guilt. He doffs his derby and hoists it high in salute of the Allied invaders. It still blows away on the tide, as all leaders — as we all — do in time.  

In one scene Churchill kneels and prays to God for a horrendous rain that would force the Allies to suspend the invasion Churchill fears will colossally fail. Under the gathering storm of his anger, the old man’s prayer evokes Lear’s rage in his own storm, another powerful leader reduced to the margins and hence to madness. The rain comes, as if to reward Churchill’s prayer, but tauntingly breaks to allow the invasion.

Two women significantly affect Churchill here. Wife Clemmie is a constant moderation and support, pulling him out of debilitating anger and egotism. But the new secretary rises from his scorn to rouse him out of his pessimism, in order to hearten his people. This scene is the most sentimental in a sentimental story but it’s a necessary reminder that the strong individualism that prompts one into leadership runs the risk of becoming a reductive vanity.