"I'm not a genius, I'm a worker." ~ Anthony Mann

Anthony Mann was a storied director in several genres by the time he came to making his take on the Korean War, Men in War in 1957, but it was only his second film looking at war. Better known for tense Westerns and moody Film Noir, this film is small and tightly focused, much like his brilliant Western with Jimmy Stewart, The Naked Spur several years prior. It also may be no accident that one of the key actors from that film is featured in Men in War, the always dependable Robert Ryan, albeit this time he’s the good guy. Mann cast stolid actor Aldo Ray as the notional villain and an ensemble cast of younger actors like Vic Morrow and James Edwards to flesh out the small platoon negotiating the dangers in the Korean hills. 

Lt. Benson (Robert Ryan) has orders to take a hill in Korea with his small unit mostly composed of young, inexperienced soldiers like the nervous Corporal Zwickley (Vic Morrow) and Sgt. Killian (James Edwards). Already under fire and diminished they head off to the coordinates as instructed and on the way they encounter a stray American Jeep heading at speed the other way containing a rough-edged Sgt Montana (Aldo Ray) driving his severely shell-shocked and mute Colonel (Robert Keith). Benson orders Montana to join their assignment against Montana’s wishes, and the pair reluctantly tag along facing the multiple dangers from the stealthy North Koreans. 

21st century viewers coming to this film will probably be immediately thinking of The Thin Red Line, Terrence Malick’s tension filled rendering of the taking of small Pacific Island atolls by American troops in WWII. The tight focus of the drama on the small, human stories found within the fraught platoon who are under stress from both without and within, allowed Mann to build empathy as he fleshed out character in a way that would have a bigger payoff in the end.  The narrative uses a number of small set pieces to underline the peril at the heart of their mission – an ambush for one of the soldiers in the vanguard, a walk across a mined area, a timed sprint race against shells landing on the road, before finally they arrive at the hill, only to find the enemy already dug in. Each vignette reveals as much about the character of the individuals as it does of their collective endeavour.  

Robert Ryan is as solid and reliable as ever and is well cast as the upright officer following orders and shows his effortless range from hard martinet to moments of introspection and doubt – his scene with the radio operator is particularly poignant as Benson wonders aloud if any other Americans are alive in Korea and the operator responds ‘I know sir... But to hear it from someone I trust... well...’ The silences speak as loudly as the explosions. Aldo Ray is surprisingly effective as the flinty, obstinate alternate voice pursuing his own agenda, and the battle between the two for the heart of the small brigade is pivotal. The emotional backstory regarding Montana’s dedication to the Colonel who called him ‘son’ is a slow reveal that also pays off beautifully in the explosive denouement. Robert Keith has the difficult role of playing the stupefied Colonel who struggles to come back to reality from the damage of seeing most of his men blown to bits and handles it very well. The smaller roles are wonderfully realised, especially Morrow and Edwards (Korea was the first war in which American units were integrated) but mention to must be made of Nehemiah Persoff who makes an impression as the soldier who loses his nerve. 

Philip Yordan was a writer and chancer who’d written several hit films (The Detective Story, The Big Combo) including two for Mann with The Man from Laramie (Mann’s final film with James Stewart) and The Last Frontier - a western with Victor Mature and Anne Bancroft. After the Blacklist in the early 1950s Yordan agreed to also ‘front’ as a name for several blacklisted writers, one of whom was Ben Maddows, and it was Maddows who adapted the Van Van Praag novel upon which this film is based. Maddows updated the 1949 novel’s WWII locations in Normandy to Korea and Yordan’s deal was to take credit and 50% of the writer’s fee – nice guy. 

Ernest Haller, a veteran cinematographer who had worked consistently since 1920 handled the stark and effective black and white photography and worked hand in glove with Mann to capture the claustrophobia and intensity of men under extreme pressure. Elmer Bernstein, fresh from an Academy Award nomination for his seminal score for Otto Preminger’s The Man With The Golden Arm, provided a spare and atmospheric soundscape that greatly benefited Mann’s pacing and flow. 

Men in War was a small budget, quickly shot triumph that sunk without trace amongst a crowded field of more macho, conventional war films centred on Korea or more likely WWII. In fact it was so downbeat that the military refused to support it via their usual lending out of tanks and machinery, thereby forcing Mann to contain the action more than he otherwise would have. Anthony Mann was very much at home with a drama focusing on a small band under pressure and the film fits neatly against his Westerns like The Naked Spur or Man of The West and remains a rarity as he only made three war films in total. Men In War’s sympathies lie with the foot soldiers, the grunts who do the hard yards and Mann’s focus never loses sight of their sacrifice and lot, especially in the finale where medals are a poor substitute for lives lost. A modest, fine and memorable film from a top shelf craftsman.