no praise too far

Interview: Karen Thomas
Picture: Graeme Main

WAR has played as big a part in Lord Richard Attenborough’s 84 years as it has in his outstanding film roles and directorial masterpieces that still entertain millions the world over.

From his acting debut as war coward midshipman Chimmo Branson in In Which We Serve to The Great Escape war hero Sqn Ldr Roger Bartlett, Attenborough’s combat credits have delighted audiences for more than six decades. His directorial vision to romance the Army onto the silver screen brought more accolades, but one film still holds the modern British soldier captive, especially if he wears a maroon beret.

A Bridge Too Far portrays the Second World War story of the disastrous Allied airborne assault into occupied Holland. Operation Market Garden saw more than 10,000 British paratroopers dropped at Arnhem – unexpectedly on top of élite German Panzer tank troops.

The short but bloody battle to seize the bridge over the Rhine and open the way into Germany decimated the British force.

Actors rigorously trained in soldiering recreated the superhuman effort of Lt Col Johnny Frost’s men to hold Arnhem Bridge against overwhelming odds. Despite failing to take their prize, the Red Devils won an enduring reputation for guts and courage. The legendary director wanted that unfailing valour in an action doomed by the high command’s arrogance to be authentically captured on film.

“The outrageous deceit of not declaring certain factors in the target area of the Arnhem drop was criminal. And to ignore that and therefore sacrifice all those men on the Arnhem Bridge was dreadful,” the double Oscar-winner told Soldier in his Richmond home, which he shares with his wife of 63 years, Sheila Sim.

“The boys that were on the bridge were all actors but they trained as soldiers for six weeks in what was called the APA – Attenborough’s Private Army. They were the right age and they knew how to hold a gun. They knew what sacrifice meant and they knew what bravery meant.

“So A Bridge Too Far was a salute to soldiers, a salute to their bravery, their discipline and their acceptance of duty.”

The Baron of Richmond upon Thames’s lifelong passion for taking action against injustice and inhumanity was instilled by parents “ever conscious of our own good fortune”.

With the rise of Adolf Hitler, Attenborough’s father offered refuge to fleeing German Jews while his mother took off to northern Spain to rescue children orphaned by Italian andGerman bombing during the Spanish civil war.

After studying at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA) in 1941, the young Attenborough answered his country’s call to arms and joined the Royal Air Force.

Interrupting his training to star alongside Hollywood great Edward G Robinson in Journey Together, the gifted actor was told on his return the RAF didn’t want any more pilots. It looked like he was destined to end the Second World War as a foot soldier.

“They said I was to go in the infantry and, delighted though I would have been to be a soldier, I did not cherish the thought of having to do square-bashing for the next x-number of weeks or months. So I went to the CO of the RAF film unit and asked could I fly.”

His request was granted on condition that he trained as an air-gunner cameraman, cueing the script for his future directorial career.

“I became air crew but I did bugger all. I went on a couple of raids when the war was virtually over but I did meet and live with some wonderful crews.”

The few weeks of parading endured during initial RAF training gave Attenborough the edge for his first acting award. From private to general, he played his Army characters with uncanny accuracy. But it was his role as spit-and-polish disciplinarian RSM Lauderdale in
Guns At Batasi that swept away the 1964 competition for the Best British Actor BAFTA.

“I spent time with an extraordinary RSM when I went to Chelsea Barracks. Although I didn’t sleep there, I spent day after day after day just being with the men and understanding how they moved, how they talked, how they lit a cigarette, how they drank a beer,” recalled the Cambridge-born thespian on how he prepared for his award-winning performance.

“I have cellars here in my house and against all the teaching of RADA in terms of voice production, I had to go down these cellars and mimic that RSM. So I shouted until my throat was raw commanding these troops on the square at Chelsea Barracks.”

It was just the beginning of a career in which this true gentleman would command worldwide standing ovations for his work in front of and behind the camera. From Oh! What A Lovely War to Gandhi, the man affectionately known as Dickie broadened the scope and reach of film, and his epics detailing the Army’s loyalty, discipline and valour still command the audiences they deserve.