Summary
It is 1944, a few days before the allied forces liberate France from the Germans.
A Nazi general, Colonel von Waldheim, is determined to transport a collection of avant-garde
French paintings from a Paris museum to Germany before the allies arrive. He requisitions
a train and, despite his superiors’ commands, the train departs with its priceless load.
The curator of the museum contacts the French Resistance and urges them to stop the paintings
from leaving France. Reluctantly, a railway inspector, Labiche, agrees, but the
cost of saving the paintings in human lives proves to be far worse than he imagined...
Review
Whilst lacking the unfaltering conviction and humanity of René Clement’s 1946 masterpiece
Bataille du Rail, which this film closely resembles, The Train is nonetheless
one of the finest, most realistic of films about the Second World War.
With some first rate acting performances, stunning photography of railway sabotage and
a poignant script, this is an impressive film which cannot leave its audience unmoved.
The final scene of the film is devastatingly effective, raising an important moral question:
how valuable is a human life?
Burt Lancaster carries the film with a dogged determination spiked with cynicism, making
him an unusual kind of hero for a war film. His opposite, Paul Schofield, is equally
forceful as the slightly deranged German officer who places painted canvas before human
life.
Impressive appearances from French icons Michel Simon and Jeanne Moreau give the film
a feeling of authenticity whilst reminding us that the film is taking place in a war-weary
France that has lived too long under the terror of the Nazi jackboot.
© James Travers 1999
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