Inspired by the true story of British naval veteran Bernard Jordan, written by William Ivory (Made in Dagenham), The Great Escaper by Oliver Parker (Othello, Dad’s Army) is a very simple, very sweet feature film. A luminous reflection on the privilege of growing old – of growing old together, because it’s better – and a vibrant tribute to the love that lasts.
The ingredients could have resulted in a sentimentalo-gnangnan mush. This is not the case. On the one hand, thanks to the (English) humor which spices up the film, and this, from its title — a nod to The Great Escape (The great Escape, 1963) by John Sturges — at the very last scene. Two, thanks to its immense performers: Michael Caine, 91, who said that this feature film was his last; and actress (also politician) Glenda Jackson, who died shortly after filming, at age 87.
They play Bernard and Irene Jordan. They live in a retirement home in Hove, on the south coast of England, where they moved because she has health problems… without having lost any of her verve. He has the fragility of age, but he has form and moves. Walker. Cane. It takes what it takes. No question of missing his daily walk by the sea. This sea that he wants to cross again, probably for one last time. Bernie was in World War II and this June 2014 will be the 70e anniversary of the Normandy landings. He wants to be there for the commemorations. But he did not complete the paperwork in time that would allow him to travel. Never mind. He “escapes” for 48 hours, with the complicity of Irene. It’s a bit like the (last) gift she gives him, that she can give him, because they are also celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary.
And the feature film alternates between Bernie’s journey, his encounters with other veterans, his age or younger, who returned from various fronts with demons they were unable to tame; and with Irene’s shenanigans, at the residence, to hide her husband’s disappearance as long as possible. Until the media picked up on this story and Bernie became the hero, at eye level, of his own story.
Michael Caine and Glenda Jackson are amazing in these roles, both fragile and well anchored in their lives – present and past. Of the latter, we only see fragments, in war as in love. Oliver Parker gave these short scenes the grain and color of period TV films, which serve them with simplicity and accuracy in the moment (perfectly chosen) as well as in the emotion (always nuanced). The present is made of immense tenderness enveloped by the never-ending music of Craig Armstrong.
Nostalgia was the trap. It was avoided. The victory would have been complete if a French version had also been able to land on our screens.