Hidden Flick: Blame Canada

Holden is also sent a band of renegade malcontents who fight, drink, eat like drunken pigs, cheat, steal, drink heavily and generally show why they have been sent here for a new assignment. In short, there is no way in hell these maniacs appear ready for civilized group activity, yet alone the focused attention necessary for deadly serious campaigns.

One day, while the American soldiers are out “on the yard,” as it were, pretty much living down to their reputation as hedonistic hooligans, elitist punks, entitled prima donnas, and loony louts (yes, I’m an American; no, I have nothing against the military; yes, my grandfather was a Lt. Colonel in the Army in WWII and Korea; yes, my father served in two wars; no, I served no time in the military; yes, I understand, thanks for asking), a group of Canadian soldiers are heard far off in the distance marching towards them. A piece of music is heard—“Scotland the Brave”—and it is a stirring and moving rendition, and the first inclination that men could be evil, but they could also hover above themselves, appearing like immortal angels of conviction—bagpipes and all.

The Canadians, led by the equally great Cliff Robertson, are disciplined, well-trained, well-behaved, civilized, and silently deadly. They’re also quite boring. And they’re kinda not inspired much, too, which is probably why they fight a lot in hockey back home. Enter the American mischief makers as the two battalions form together into one unit under the leadership of Holden, with support from Robertson. The Americans are trained and re-focused into crafty soldiers somehow ready for duty overseas; the Canadians learn to live a little, and have some fun while fighting alongside their southern neighbors.

What has always made the film so captivating for my youthful mind is the way that the rebel can find a place within society, do one’s duty, land on the neighbor’s grenade in order to save another’s life, but never once lose an ounce of one’s soul in the process.

Ahhh…too much vaguery. One must get more explicit. Where is the pearl in this piece?

The pivotal scene in the film for me is a quiet one as all moments of epiphany happen when the mind is at rest, and the muse has a chance to speak. A general, who didn’t believe in “the Devil’s Brigade,” as they came to be known as if no one on earth wanted anything to do with these wretched men, offers Holden and a junior officer booze from his liquor cabinet. Holden rejects the offer, and stops the extended arm of his junior officer, as well. In their world, there is no such thing as a free lunch, and a grudge is not something one holds lightly. A grudge is something one holds proudly atop one’s shoulder to remind anyone within 500 miles, that there is no compromise, no surrender, no code of honor without all due respect to one’s ideals. You see that scene, and you think: “We are alcoholics, but we don’t want your fucking liquor.” And let’s face it—when you’re 12, and watching this as a rerun on T.V. like Quentin Tarantino probably did before he got that fateful job at the L.A. video store way back yonder, that is really your first experience with rebellion in action. Don’t take shit from the Man even if everything in your being is reaching out for that prized juice. Don’t be an Uncle Tom.

So, yeah…that’s your damn Nietzschean wisdom today: Blame Canada. Blame Holden. Blame the odd concept of respect towards that weird light coming through the window, focusing on what one thinks is right, and what one knows is dead wrong.

All due respect is what this very real brigade gained throughout its numerous victorious World War II campaigns—often very secretive, other times very public, and mostly incredibly dangerous as one sees in this film; they never surrendered, never retreated, never gave up in the face of insurmountable odds. In the end, they were an unlikely yet uncanny symbolic reflection of both misunderstood countries—American and Canadian forces working as one, fighting together to end fascist tyranny in Europe during WWII. And when gazing back at Pitt’s patch on his Inglorious Basterds uniform, one nods with all due respect to a group of highly unlikely heroes because that’s what they were.

– Randy Ray