Overlord (1975) [The Criterion Collection] – DVD

***/**** Image A Sound A Extras A
starring Brian Stirner, Davyd Harries, Nicholas Ball, Julie Neesam
written and directed by Stuart Cooper

by Travis Mackenzie Hoover If nothing else, Overlord has the distinction of inventing its own genre. A bold combination of fictional drama and found-footage assembly, it grimly blends the real and the imaginary to the point where you can't help but be a little affected by the actors' proximity to the real devastation of WWII. Long undistributed in North America and roundly-unseen on these shores except by those fortunate few who caught it on the late, lamented Z Channel, Overlord has acquired a cult mystique slightly disproportionate to its merit. Director Stuart Cooper and his co-scenarist Christopher Hudson only hint at the inner life of their hapless deer-in-the-headlights lead and don't quite sell the impending doom for which they so desperately reach. But make no mistake: this is a one-of-a-kind movie that should've opened new avenues for narrative filmmaking instead of dropping into the big black hole that it did.

"Overlord" was, of course, the code name for the D-Day operations, and the film charts the progress of 20-year-old enlistee Tom (Brian Stirner) against a backdrop of war footage provided by Britain's Imperial War Museum. Tom proves to be a shy, befuddled type who seems overwhelmed by most elements of his involvement. He misses the train to basic training (earning him the ire of a commanding officer), is markedly less virile than his fellow soldiers, and generally exists in a state of terrified stupefaction. He's a representative of the fear and trembling on the long road from training to the battlefield; though his confederates are more forthcoming, the protagonist stands in for all soldiers' inner anguish, whatever their outward manner. As Tom's microcosm is juxtaposed with the macro of documentary firefights, bombing raids, and trudging soldiers, his ultimate fate is amply foreshadowed.

Alas, on the score of sketching that angst, Overlord only goes so far. Although the awkwardness of our hero and the attendant claustrophobia of the dialogue manage to worm their way into us, Tom isn't enough of a character to really grip our sensibilities: the film pulls back from truly individuating the protagonist in favour of a muddily-conceived universal soldier. It's arguable that the "educational" aspect of the film–commissioned and partially conceptualized as it was by the Imperial War Museum itself–took over, somewhat inhibiting dramatic possibilities in favour of vague generalities. Still, the episodic screenplay has its moments: there's a lovely comic passage involving talk of girlfriends and cocker spaniels, as well as a rightly-included romantic interlude that's scuttled when the boys ship out but continues to haunt the picture thereafter. For every failure of detail, there's a success that keeps you watching or a structural point that hits where it hurts.

That being said, the film wouldn't have half the impact that it does without the technical excellence it exhibits on either side of the fiction/documentary divide. Whatever my misgivings about the character design, both the hard-sheen b&w cinematography (by Kubrick stalwart John Alcott) and the integration of the stock footage possess the cold clarity the movie needs. The archival material is also granted the kind of breathing room unheard of on the History Channel, so you're enveloped in its beauty and horror rather than experiencing it as a series of quick, desensitizing cuts. Give Overlord a chance and the good will outweigh the problematic thanks to its undeniably unique approach.

THE DVD
Criterion's bountiful DVD release of Overlord really does the movie proud. The 1.66:1 anamorphic/pillarboxed transfer is extremely sharp, boasting white whites, a royal infinitude of greys, and nary a hint of print damage outside the untouched stock shots. An accompanying Dolby 1.0 mono track has more resonance and dimension than do most 5.1 mixes these days. Extras begin with an engaging film-length commentary featuring Cooper and Stirner, with Cooper proving astoundingly articulate and providing all manner of information about the sources of the war footage (much of which was culled from within the timeframe of the narrative), the lenses employed to evoke period cinematography, and the contributions of the Imperial War Museum, whose staff became de facto costume and production designers. Stirner is a little less represented, but he notes the energy of the young director and a two-week shooting schedule that made socializing impossible.

Meanwhile, "Mining the Archive" (23 mins.) sees Imperial War Museum film archivists Roger Smither and Anne Fleming discussing the documentary material; their account of the process by which it was captured is often fascinating, as are the then-recently-declassified shots of military machine tests. There's even a compilation of D-Day footage that Overlord didn't get a chance to use. "Capa Influences Cooper" (8 mins.) is a veritable slideshow of Robert Capa's famous D-Day photos narrated by Cooper, who not only describes how these pictures influenced the bleak tone and deliberate anticlimax of his movie's ending but also reads Capa's own words on his experiences in the war zone. The images are indelible and the insights invaluable. "Germany Calling" (2 mins.) is the full version of a short glimpsed briefly in the film proper: excerpts from Triumph of the Will are re-edited and manipulated to contrive a dance to the then-popular tune of "The Lambeth Walk." It's a little cheap in its humour, if an interesting curio. "Cameramen at War" (14 mins.) is a 1943 British Ministry of Information tribute to war cameramen draped in a nattering voiceover puffing up the brave snappers. It's only marginally informative but offers some captivating footage strangely minimized by the super-cheerful narration.

A Test of Violence (14 mins.) is Cooper's prize-winning 1969 short mating the work of Spanish artist Juan Genoves–whose action-packed paintings depict "the horror of oppression and brutality"–to Vietnam and police brutality. It's a heavy-handed but nonetheless brilliant performance that landed Cooper the Overlord job. Next up are audio clips: Cooper offers an intro (2 mins.) that explains his use of the Museum's letters archive for background authenticity, while two other clips find Stirner reading from soldiers' diaries. Those of Sergeant Edward Robert McCosh (8 mins.) describe the military scene in a tone reminiscent of Joyce describing Dublin but with a sardonic edge that's pretty overwhelming–his literary flair is unmistakable. Sergeant Finlay Campbell (12 mins.) is a tad more prosaic yet full of detail that makes his a compelling record on its own, however germane to the film proper.

Rounding out the package: Overlord's theatrical trailer; and an insert booklet containing a fine, perceptive essay on the film by Kent Jones, a comprehensive explanation by Smither of the Museum's work and purpose, and highlights from the Overlord novelization, which was written in the form of letters and diary entries–thus clearly demonstrating that the filmmakers had learned from the Museum's documents.

84 minutes; NR; 1.66:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 2.0 (Mono); CC; DVD-9; Region One; Criterion