Matthew MacFayden | Through the Shattered Lens

Based on a true story, Operation Mincemeat takes place in 1943, during the second World War. The British are planning an invasion of Sicily, both to break Hitler’s hold on Europe and to also knock Italy out of the war. The problem is that the attack on Sicily makes so much strategic sense that the Germans have spent months preparing for it and, even if successful, the invasion will cost an untold number of British lives. Somehow, British intelligence must trick the Germans into thinking that the British are planning to invade Greece instead.

With the help of Lt. Commander Ian Fleming (Johnny Flynn), Ewen Montagu (Colin Firth) and Charles Cholmondeley (Matthew McFayden) come up with the plan to fool the Germans. A dead body will be disguised as a British officer. The body will be transported, via submarine, to Spain, which was technically neutral during the war. The body will wash up on shore and, when the body is examined, a note detailing Britain’s invasion of Greece will be discovered and passed along to the Germans. Because the Germans have been fooled by a similar trick in the past, Montagu and Cholmondeley create a fake backstory for “Maj. William Martin” and soon start to think of him as being a someone who truly did live. Joining them to create a life for Major Martin is Jean Leslie (Kelly MacDonald), a secretary in the office who volunteers a photo of herself to be placed in Martin’s wallet.

Of course, things get complicated. While plotting out the operation, Jean starts to fall in love with Montagu, whose marriage is currently strained by Montagu’s obsession with his work. (Because he knows what will happen to a Jewish family in the UK if Germany invades, Montagu has sent his wife and his children to the U.S.) Cholomondeley is in love with Jean and soon finds himself growing jealous of the man that he’s been assigned to work with. Meanwhile, the head of British Intelligence (Jason Isaacs) wants to investigate Montagu’s brother for being a communist. As for Ian Fleming, he keeps himself busy by writing a book. In fact, so many members of British Intelligence are identified as being aspiring novelists that it becomes a bit of a running joke.

I have always appreciated a good World War II film and I enjoyed Operation Mincemeat. It’s a bit of an old-fashioned film, of course. The F-word is used exactly once (which makes this a rarity amongst modern British films) and there’s one scene in which a member of British intelligence discreetly gives an informant a handjob in return for information. Otherwise, this is pretty much a film that you could safely show your grandma without having to worry about her getting depressed over how much movies have changed since her day. Old-fashioned or not, it’s a well-made film, full of good performances and sharp dialogue. It’s not a flashy film but it’s very nicely put together and it’s hard not to admire the craftsmanship responsible for it. Operation Mincemeat is all the more interesting for being, more or less, true. While the love triangle was invented for the film, it is true that Ian Fleming was a part of Operation Mincemeat and the film’s use of him as a character works surprisingly well. The scene where a young Fleming tours the World War II version of Q Branch provides some nice comic relief, particularly when Flemings comes across a wristwatch that doubles as a mini-saw.

What elevates Operation Mincemeat is its theme of loss. Almost all of the major characters have lost someone or something to the war. Jean Leslie is a widow. Cholomendely’s brother was killed in action and his body is still in Europe. Montagu has had to send his family away for their own safety. For them, the Major Martin becomes a stand-in for all of the people that they’ve lost. The effort to make Martin into a real person allows all of them one final chance to honor their loved ones. Major Martin becomes a stand-in for all British soldiers and civilians who sacrificed their lives to battle Hitler’s war machine. Operation Mincemeat becomes about more than just fooling the Germans. It becomes about being worthy of the sacrifice that it took to defeat them.

As is shown in the film, the real Major Martin was a vagrant named Glyndwr Michael, who died after eating rat poison. The film suggests that Michael deliberately killed himself but no one will ever know for sure what led to him eating that poison. After his death, he was given the uniform of a British officer and his pockets were filled with things that would identify him as being Major William Martin. Though he never knew it, Glyndwr Michael become one of the greatest heroes of World War II. Operation Mincemeat serves a worthy tribute to both Glyndwr Michael and Major William Martin.

For the most part, 2012 was a bland year as far as cinema is concerned. The most acclaimed films of the year (Argo and Lincoln being two obvious examples) were well-made and often entertaining but they were hardly revolutionary. 2012 was the year that the establishment told us what we should enjoy and, for the most part, film critics slavishly hopped on the bandwagon. As you can probably guess, 2012 was not my favorite year as far as the movies are concerned. That said, there were a few films that gave me hope. As the year ends, despite being underwhelmed by most of the films that were released, there are a few that I truly did love.

My favorite film of 2011 was a criminally underappreciated film from director Joe Wright. That name of that film was Hanna. My favorite film of 2012 is another criminally underappreciated film from director Joe Wright. The name of this film? Anna Karenina.*

History has a way of repeating itself.

Anna Karenina is, of course, based on the classic novel by Leo Tolstoy. Anna Karenina (played, quite brilliantly, by Kiera Knightley) is the wife of the noble (but somewhat boring and judgmental) Russian statesman Alex Karenin (Jude Law, who is also quite brilliant and rather tragic in a role that, in lesser hands, could have become a stock villain). When Anna’s good-for-nothing brother (played in a wonderfully comedic performance by Matthew MacFayden) is caught cheating on his wife, Anna leaves her safe home in St. Petersburg and travels to Moscow where she helps to save her brother’s marriage and meets Count Vronsky (Aaron Taylor-Johnson).

Among the members of the Russian high society, it is well-known that Vronsky is pursuing the hand of the young and beautiful Kitty (Alicia Vikander, who generates a lot of sympathy for a character who, at the start of the film, could easily have been portrayed as just a spoiled brat). However, at the ball where it is widely expected that Vronsky will ask Kitty to marry him, Vronsky creates a scandal by dancing with Anna instead.

Vronsky loses interest in Kitty and instead, he now obsessively pursues the married Anna. Though Anna is resistant at first, she finally gives in and embarks on an adulterous affair with Vronsky, resulting in scandal and tragedy.

Again, history repeats itself. The story of Anna Karenina is a familiar one that has been told repeatedly over the ages. That’s one reason why Tolstoy’s novel has remained one of the greatest novels ever written and why it has been adapted into so many other mediums. Director Joe Wright begins Anna Karenina with the assumption that the majority of the people in his audience already know the story of Anna’s ill-fated love affair with Vronsky. As such, he puts less emphasis on the story itself and more on how the story is told.

Anna Karenina is a masterpiece of style. When the film opens, Wright has his actors literally performing on a stage. When Anna travels to Moscow, a miniature train is seen rolling across the stage. When the scene changes from a factory to a high society ball, the factory workers walk backstage, change costumes, and then step back onstage, suddenly transformed into noblemen. At one point, we even see a janitor nonchalantly cleaning up the now-empty theater while the story continues to play out on the stage in front of him. When Anna and Vronsky dance for the first time, the other actors freeze in place and a spotlight shines down on the dancing couple. It’s an amazingly romantic moment, one to which anyone who has ever been infatuated will be able to relate. Finally, a door opens onstage and the characters (and the viewing audience) are able to step out into the “real” world but, throughout the film, we occasionally return to that stage. While several critics have criticized this aspect of the film, I thought it was brilliant. By literally putting his actors on stage, Wright both acknowledges that this is a story that may be familiar but can be interpreted in many different ways and he also drives home the point that, ultimately, we are all just actors on a stage, being observed and judged by a society that is often hostile to any sign of individual desire or unpredictable emotion.

Needless to say, the film’s extreme stylization is not for everyone. That’s actually one of the reasons that I love this version of Anna Karenina so much. In a year that was almost excessively safe, Joe Wright took a risk and, as a result, encouraged us to look at a familiar story in a different way. For that reason, Anna Karenina is my favorite film of 2012.

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