There is something intensely British about Scott of the Antarctic, an epic story of great heroism which ended in failure. Robert Falcon Scott had already made a name for himself in polar exploration when he set out in 1910 on an attempt to reach the South Pole. It took two years for his small party to get to it, and when they did they found the Norwegian flag planted by Roald Amundsen flying there. On the way back everyone perished in the snows, and it was only after a search party several months later had found the Scott diaries and pieced together the story that Edwardian England was able to thrill to the courage of a small band of gallant men fighting impossible odds. The film that Ealing made was as worthy as its subject demanded. The direction was by Charles Frend who had been responsible for the wartime story of epic heroism, San Demetrio, London.

It was made in TechniColour, with Jack Cardiff, Osmond Borradaile and Geoffrey Unsworth in charge of photography. The script by Walter Meade and Ivor Montagu, with sequences by Mary Hayley Bell, leaned heavily on the diaries and Arne Akermark's art direction gave as authentic a look as possible to the sets and props. As historical reconstruction it looked impeccable, although it has to be said that there were difficulties in getting approval from all the survivors of the expedition, particularly Lord Mountevans, formerly Lieutenant Evans, who had objected to his namesake and companion, Petty Officer Evans, being chosen by Scott for the final dash to the Pole. John Mills played Scott, a popular choice as he had established his reputation portraying level-headed, stiff upper-lipped men of courage. The supporting cast included Harold Warrender as Wilson, Derek Bond as Oates, Kenneth More as Lieutenant Evans, James Robertson Justice as Petty Officer Evans, Reginald Beckwith as Bowers and Diana Churchill as Scott's wife.

Location photography was shot in Grahamland, Switzerland and Norway - in the first, which was in Antarctica itself, without any actors. In addition, there were many hazardous scenes filmed at Ealing on a sound stage covered in 'fuff', as the revolting artificial snow was called. Because of the difficulties of location shooting it had been decided to use the then new TechniColour monopack system which did away with the cumbersome three-strip camera, and their seventy pounds of film magazines, but it was not so easy to get the new stock from America. The beautiful documentary footage shot on the original expeditions on black-and-white nitrate stock by Herbert

Ponting was studied closely and some shots were even accurately duplicated. The final touch to enhance the picture's prestige was the vibrant, atmospheric score by Ralph Vaughan Williams, one of the composer's rare and most successful forays into film music, and a triumph for Ealing's musical director, Ernest Irving. Although there is a tendency nowadays to scoff at hagiographies of national heroes, it would be unfair to deny Scott of the Antarctic its excellence. It is a cool, carefully-stated account, which does not flinch from showing the casual, gentlemanly way in which Scott made his plans, leaving far too much to chance and good fortune than was prudent for a determined explorer. He had the ambition, but not the ruthlessness.

In contrast, the unseen Amundsen is the highly organised professional with luck on his side. Characteristically, the final disaster is seen to begin with a small incident, a cut finger which in the appalling conditions becomes gangrenous and impedes progress. The sacrifice of Oates is simply depicted, and some critics felt that it was not made fellows, rather than merely absent-mindedly walking out into the snow because he had lost his rationality. The film is the perfect evocation of the team spirit, the submergence of individual emotion for the greater good of everyone. Thus the suffering is borne stoically, without complaint. As in so many Ealing films, the women are subordinated to a totally passive role - they wait patiently at home in Britain knowing that they will probably never see their husbands again.

At the conclusion we hear John Mills speak Scott's famous last words in his diary: "Had we lived I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance and courage of my companions, which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. It seems a pity, but I don't think I can write more. These rough notes and our bodies must tell the tale.... For God's sake, look after our people." And on the cross that marked the place in the frozen wilderness where they were found were the words: "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." It is the last shot of the film.
Extract© George Perry: Forever Ealing.

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“The hardihood, endurance and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman”

The above quote is taken from the final words spoken by John Mills in Scott of the Antarctic, a film in which he plays Captain Scott, the famed explorer who reached the south pole, yet was unable to return home and died an untimely death. What’s interesting about this quotation is the way in which it so succinctly sums up not only the film, but also the general view on British cinema of the time and the thoughts of producer Michael Balcon, then head of Ealing Studios.

Yes, Scott of the Antarctic is one of those quintessential British films; a film which is forever associated with Bank Holiday Mondays and one which could never have been made in the quite the same way anywhere else in the world. Indeed, Balcon had a view of the films he was making as the being the essence of “Britishness”, yet they were this to such a degree they rarely delved into such issues as politics, and always displayed a remarkable good taste. As a result the film is regularly lumped in with such stiff upper lip wartime adventures as The Colditz Story and The Dam Busters, and that venerable Kenneth More starrer Genevieve, to form a collection of films which define British filmmaking. Yet any collection of this sort neglects so many more adventurous works (works by directors ranging from Len Lye to Donald Cammell), and simply consists of a few solid, though unremarkable pictures.

And this is exactly what Scott of the Antarctic is: solid and unremarkable. The film is ably directed by Charles Frend, yet displays so little in the way of a signature that it could have been make by anybody (even, God forbid, Lewis Gilbert). Indeed, Frend’s filmography consists mainly of films which could be described in the same. Of course, there is the presence of a masterpiece or two (The Cruel Sea and perhaps San Demetrio, London), though for the most part his directorial career consisted of the likes of Johnny Frenchman and The Big Blockade; perfectly watchable films, though ones which don’t stand comparison with the works of Ealing’s maverick directors. Indeed, one wonders what the results would have been had Scott of the Antarctic been directed by Alexander Mackendrick perhaps, or Robert Hamer during his prime, though sadly the workmanlike talents of Frend were employed and signs of life must be looked for elsewhere.

Thankfully, Scott of the Antarctic has two major selling points. It’s first is fine score by Vaughan Williams. With the dialogue often limited to the stiff upper lip voice-over of John Mills as he reads out sections of his journal, the musical accompaniment provides real drama to the on-screen heroics. Secondly, the film gains immeasurably from Jack Cardiff’s splendid technicolor photography. An equal to his stunning work for the Archers from the same time (A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes), the cinematography almost creates the documentary realism the filmmakers’ aspire to despite their use of studio backdrops. Indeed one wishes that John Mills and company had been filmed on location, as film would have gained a certain frisson with Cardiff’s input.

In fact one wishes that John Mills and company had been replaced with a number of more interesting actors. Of course this isn’t meant as an insult to John Mills, Kenneth More or James Robertson Justice; it’s simply that when a film such as Scott of the Antarctic is so damned straight-laced, one hopes a little excitement will result from the casting, and the likes of Mills, More and Justice rarely provide such thrills, despite being consummate professionals. Eagle-eyed readers may have spotted Christopher Lee in the cast list, though his role is a tiny one and passes by almost unnoticed; a pity as a larger role for the actor, alongside perhaps Alec Guinness and Marius Goring would have been hugely beneficial, both for the film and the audience.

And yet, another quote:

“...I defy anyone to watch Genevieve and not feel full of Sunday lunch...”

As critic Andy Medhurst quite succinctly puts it, these solid, unremarkable British films (of which, perhaps, Scott of the Antarctic is king) are now part of the British consciousness whether we like it or not. And whilst I would much prefer a list of the public’s favourite films to include A Canterbury Tale, Witchfinder General, Performance, The 39 Steps and The Quatermass Xperiment rather than any of the films I’ve mentioned above, there is still (despite myself) a great, if undemanding, enjoyment to be had from these pictures. As said, they’re solid.

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