The Steel Helmet (1951)

Dir.: Sam Fuller
Plot: In war-ravaged Korea, a ragtag group of US Marines and their orphan mascot try to stay alive whilst holding an important observation post in enemy territory.

I've been waiting to see The Steel Helmet for a long time now, being a fan of Fuller (my display pic is from his whacked-out western Forty Guns), and on the whole I was not disappointed with his characteristically unflinching portrayal of a war which at the time was still in its infancy. Made over ten days in late 1950 with a handful of UCLA students as extras, this is guerilla filmmaking at its rawest; and yet, it managed to make an astonishing $6 million at the box office on a budget of $104,000. Called right-wing fantasy by the left and Communist propaganda by the right, The Steel Helmet was incredibly polarising and hugely influential.




Gene Evans basically plays Wolverine in Korea - a gruff, hairy sergeant growling battle-scarred aphorisms out of one corner of his mouth whilst clamping a grizzled cigar stump in the other. As the film opens, he is tied up amongst the bodies of his comrades after a massacre, the lone survivor thanks to a fluke richochet inside his helmet. He is saved from perishing in the open air by a Korean orphan, whom he reluctantly allows to accompany him as he heads off in search of friendly forces. Wandering in the perilously booby-trapped woods, they encounter a black medic (James Edwards) who is also the sole survivor of his platoon. When they bump into a small reconnaissance squad on a mission to secure an important obervsation post in a Buddhist temple, the sergeant is initially reluctant to get involved but is eventually won over by the offer of a box of cigars. The squad then journey to the temple and enter a nightmarish world of decoys, traps, hidden enemies and internal pressure - intensified by the capture of a North Korean officer who sets about insidiously undermining the group's morale.

The Steel Helmet is a gritty potboiler not dissimilar to 1949's Home of the Brave, with its focus on sweaty, tense combat and the dynamics of a very different group of men under immense pressure. The squad is of the typically mismatched variety, certainly - black guy, Asian guy, pacifist, jumped-up junior officer, nervous rookie - but the characters rarely feel like archetypes. Fuller doesn't use them as message-bearers, he gives them their own stories and personalities as the film unfolds. The only time their differences threaten to become isssues is when their prisoner reminds the black Cpl Thomson and the Japanese-American Sgt Tanaka of the prejudice they and their families have suffered in the United States. Despite the fact that neither character is persuaded by his insidious attacks and both emphasise their American loyalty, the very mention of Jim Crow and Japanese internment was enough to make the film politically explosive, winning Fuller a summons from the US military to 'discuss' the movie.

The major flaw is the very noticeable lack of budget: Sam Fuller was a great storyteller but I do wish he'd maybe waited another six months and got a little more money. The opening exterior scenes of Sgt Zack's rescue are great to look at, but this promise doesn't last when the action moves to inside sets. The jungle scenes look they were filmed in my nan's greenhouse, and the combat sequences reminded me of 13 year-old Steven Spielberg's Escape to Nowhere (reliance on firecrackers and dust not as charming when the filmmaker is 39 ). That said, it's a fantastic rare opportunity to see James Edwards and Richard Loo in major roles, actors who either never quite broke into the big time (Edwards) or spent their career in small and often stereotypical roles (Loo). Both of them have great screen presence in parts that, if it weren't for a few incisive moments of social commentary, could have been written absolutely colour-blind. William Chun is winning as the Korean orphan, nicknamed 'Short Round' (yeah, I know. Weird, right?), showing a touching rapport with the grizzled sergeant, and gets the great line "I am no gook. I am Korean." Gene Evans holds it all together as the tough, hardboiled grunt who's seen it all (according to IMDb, he was only 29 when this was made, which I find impossible to believe), and the vulnerability he shows in the final scenes could well have you grasping at the Kleenex, if you can ignore the fact that the rifle he's holding is probably made of toilet roll tubes and sellotape...



7.5/10