It's hard to understand what it is that turns some seamen into superior writers. Of course they have a lot of yarns to tell, but where does the skill in telling them come from? Nicholas Monserrat, on whose best-selling book this movie is based, never wrote a ground-breaking novel but no one is better at conveying the details of life at sea, at the maintenance and manipulation of ships.
This film matches Monserrat's novel in its realistic portrayal of duty on a British corvette. Corvettes were smaller than destroyers, and slower and carried less armament, and they were uncomfortable to boot. They were designed to do only one thing: find and destroy German U-boats. The war against submarines didn't go well for the Allies until about May of 1943, when new technology turned patrols by U-boats into something resembling suicide missions.
The characters we meet are nicely done. Most of them are jolly good chaps. Stanley Baker appears briefly as a stern but inefficient First Lieutenant who is induced to leave in a comic scene. There is, in fact, quite a lot of humor in the dialog. And there is of course drama, usually understated. The scenes of bloodshed are handled delicately. Some of the events were, or have becomes, clichés by now. The ship must stop for silent repairs in submarine-infested waters and somebody drops a monkey wrench -- or, pardon me, an adjustable spanner. A handful of sailors alone in a rubber life raft must sing an absurd song and clap to keep warm and vital. Some of the wives on the beach are not worthy of their husbands. Others, who might be, are liable to be casualties of German bombs.
The movie isn't overscored. During energetic combat scenes, when we might expect to be overwhelmed by some kind of march, where Muir Mathesson or Dmitri Tiomkin might be going berserk, there is no music at all, so we can listen to the clanks as the depth charges are rolled off the stern. The newsreel footage that is integrated into the movie is a little obvious but hardly poses a major problem. Nice sound work. In heavy weather, when the Compass Rose pitches into a swell, in addition to the generic whistling wind we hear the percussive slam of iron against sea water. A surprising amount of drinking goes on aboard the Compass Rose. There is a pint of beer with lunch and wine with dinner. There are cocktail parties attended by admirals. If somebody brings a cup of hot tea to the shivering lookout, there may be a tot of rum in it. And sometimes the officers just sit around the wardroom and get plastered. Now there is a civilized habit for you. The Brits had it just about right but, alas, abandoned the program and went on the wagon a generation or so ago.
The Anchor Bay DVD that I watched has a crisp transfer and is easy on the eyes. It's not to be missed by anyone with an interest in World War II as seen from the deck of an ordinary British warship, one of little consequence in itself. In five years of sailing the crew sink only two U-boats and lose a ship of their own. Just a small ship and its crew, trying to do their jobs and stay alive in the process.
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