This big screen adaptation of the hit Broadway play was equally as successful at the film box office. It has a big-name cast with Fonda returning to movie work after a break of several years while he was playing stage roles, Cagney was playing his second "mean guy" role of the year (after his part in "Love Me Or Leave Me"), William Powell in his last film role and Jack Lemmon in his breakthrough part as Ensign Pulver, along with a cast of recognisable Ford supporting regulars.
I can get why contemporary audiences would savour the movie, bolstering as it does themes such as male-bonding, recent armed forces service and mild anti-authority rebelliousness, but time, it seems to me, has weakened its resolve, not least down to thankfully altered societal attitudes in the workplace and in particular to women.
Fonda is the titular Mr Roberts, the much put-upon first officer of a U. S. supply ship, situated somewhere out in the Eastern war theatre but sat pretty much up in the gods, well out of harm's way, rather than in front row seats which Roberts especially, as well as the other men on board, craves. His captain is a selfish, glory-hunting martinet, played with suitable bluster by Cagney. Roberts' job is to keep the ship functioning, which he tries to do by ameliorating the seamen's restive feelings against the captain's despotic rule, which sets him up as a sort of politer Fletcher Christian to Cagney's tyrannical Bligh, while at the same time observing his duty as the ship's second-in-command, leaving him caught somewhere between a rock and a soft place. It's clear where his own sympathies lie, but he's too much of a good officer to flaunt the order of command. But of course, you can push a good man too far which naturally sets him up for a showdown with Cagney.
There's a surprising, bitter-sweet epilogue, which at least shows that the spirit of non-conformity will likely continue on the boat if in a much more energetic and demonstrative way in future voyages.
Roberts' two pals on board are his room-mates, the all-talk-and-no-action but likeable young Ensign Pulver played by Jack Lemmon and his old buddy, the ship's doc played by William Powell. Inevitably Cagney's character finds a way to compromise Roberts but the truth will out it seems, so that just desserts are in the end meted out even if the slightly heavy-handed "war-is-hell" conclusion would tend to rather detract, I'd imagine, from any upbeat feelings in the audience, as they left the movie theatre.
There was a fair bit to like about the film especially if you're a fan of Ford's old-fashioned ethos on grace under pressure and boys-will-be-boys brand of raucous humour, but for me anyway, both were wearing a little thin by this time. There's not a single black crew member on board for one thing and the treatment of the women as mere sex-objects is distasteful to modern eyes. The humour too often comes across as forced and watered-down while much of the action seems episodic. In fact, I wouldn't have been surprised to see Frank Sinatra or Gene Kelly hoofing it up out on the town with these jolly jack tars, so mild and unrealistic does the rest of the crew seem.
As far as the acting is concerned, Fonda does his redoubtable best, but hardly gets to demonstrate his range, Cagney is just too overblown in his caricature part while Lemmon alternates inconsistently between gaucheness and charm. I liked Powell best as the sober down-to-earth voice of reason on board, although ironically he apparently had such difficulty remembering his lines that he decided this was to be his last role in front of the cameras and promptly retired.
It's still an entertaining enough film, nicely shot and reasonably well played but I think it is somewhat overrated and as for any relevance to today's viewers, I'm bound to say that I think this ship has definitely sailed.
I can get why contemporary audiences would savour the movie, bolstering as it does themes such as male-bonding, recent armed forces service and mild anti-authority rebelliousness, but time, it seems to me, has weakened its resolve, not least down to thankfully altered societal attitudes in the workplace and in particular to women.
Fonda is the titular Mr Roberts, the much put-upon first officer of a U. S. supply ship, situated somewhere out in the Eastern war theatre but sat pretty much up in the gods, well out of harm's way, rather than in front row seats which Roberts especially, as well as the other men on board, craves. His captain is a selfish, glory-hunting martinet, played with suitable bluster by Cagney. Roberts' job is to keep the ship functioning, which he tries to do by ameliorating the seamen's restive feelings against the captain's despotic rule, which sets him up as a sort of politer Fletcher Christian to Cagney's tyrannical Bligh, while at the same time observing his duty as the ship's second-in-command, leaving him caught somewhere between a rock and a soft place. It's clear where his own sympathies lie, but he's too much of a good officer to flaunt the order of command. But of course, you can push a good man too far which naturally sets him up for a showdown with Cagney.
There's a surprising, bitter-sweet epilogue, which at least shows that the spirit of non-conformity will likely continue on the boat if in a much more energetic and demonstrative way in future voyages.
Roberts' two pals on board are his room-mates, the all-talk-and-no-action but likeable young Ensign Pulver played by Jack Lemmon and his old buddy, the ship's doc played by William Powell. Inevitably Cagney's character finds a way to compromise Roberts but the truth will out it seems, so that just desserts are in the end meted out even if the slightly heavy-handed "war-is-hell" conclusion would tend to rather detract, I'd imagine, from any upbeat feelings in the audience, as they left the movie theatre.
There was a fair bit to like about the film especially if you're a fan of Ford's old-fashioned ethos on grace under pressure and boys-will-be-boys brand of raucous humour, but for me anyway, both were wearing a little thin by this time. There's not a single black crew member on board for one thing and the treatment of the women as mere sex-objects is distasteful to modern eyes. The humour too often comes across as forced and watered-down while much of the action seems episodic. In fact, I wouldn't have been surprised to see Frank Sinatra or Gene Kelly hoofing it up out on the town with these jolly jack tars, so mild and unrealistic does the rest of the crew seem.
As far as the acting is concerned, Fonda does his redoubtable best, but hardly gets to demonstrate his range, Cagney is just too overblown in his caricature part while Lemmon alternates inconsistently between gaucheness and charm. I liked Powell best as the sober down-to-earth voice of reason on board, although ironically he apparently had such difficulty remembering his lines that he decided this was to be his last role in front of the cameras and promptly retired.
It's still an entertaining enough film, nicely shot and reasonably well played but I think it is somewhat overrated and as for any relevance to today's viewers, I'm bound to say that I think this ship has definitely sailed.