The film brought down quite a lot of criticism on its release because it made the German occupiers human beings instead of the snarling stereotypes expected in 1943.
Not that it raises any doubts about who is "good" and who is "bad." It begins in one of those cute little European villages, this time in Norway, with happy peasants celebrating a beer fest in the woods, having contests, and so forth. It could be a picnic at a fairgrounds in Iowa.
Everyone is enjoying himself when suddenly, out of the sky, paratroopers! The handful of militia are promptly dealt with and the Nazi flag now flies over the erstwhile tranquil town of Lutefisk.
It's a mining town and the Germans need the iron but the miners balk. The villagers also have taken a dislike to the local shop keeper who has betrayed them and paved the way for the occupation. Some of the Nazis are ugly and sneer easily. A stupid, arrogant Nazi captain has a Hitlerian mustached and carries on like a parody in a Mel Brooks movie.
But what is the response of the Nazi colonel in charge? He's Sir Cedric Hardwicke and he gives a splendid performance as the cool-tempered pragmatist determined to get his job done but who approaches things rationally, without anger, hoping for peace but not expecting it.
The script makes it possible to see and feel things from his point of view, including his distaste for those who cry for war without ever having fought in one. But none of this stops him from treating any dissident acts with the brutality that the real Nazis displayed.
It's an unusually intelligent and sensitive screenplay, adapted by Nunnally Johnson from John Steinbeck's novel. Small details are carefully observed, the gentle swoosh of snow sliding down a slanted roof. The disagreements between Hardwicke's colonel and Henry Travers as the town's mayor are framed as a clash of principles. They don't merely pit an evil force against a good one. When a homesick, boyish lieutenant, Peter Van Eyck, enters the local beer hall and tries to strike up a conversation, the scene is poignant. Van Eyck's character is being driven mad by enmity and loneliness. He doesn't last long.
When the RAF drops dynamite and chocolate to the villagers, they begin blowing up bridges and rail lines. The local traitor has an idea. Arrest the mayor, the doctor, and other community notables and begin executing them. One death for every act of sabotage. The theory is that if you eliminate the leadership, morale collapses and resistance stops. But Hardwicke comes up with an interesting point. When you begin killing important people in the community, the conflict becomes personal in addition to being ideological. For each man you execute, you create a family of new activists. (What if the Nazis used drones?) The doctor has another point. Eliminating the leaders might work well enough in Germany. A year after the release of this film, the generals tried to blow up Hitler. But it doesn't work so well where leadership is dispersed, as it appears to be among the Islamic fundamentalists that now threaten the stability of the Middle East.
It's propaganda, of course. This is 1943, a year when the war was only beginning to turn. But it's much more perceptive than most of the routine anti-Nazi movies being ground out during the period.
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