God And Country

Rating: 9/10 (12 January 2006)

A vivid, exciting testament to man's spirit and will to succeed, 1981's "Chariots Of Fire" belies expectations one might have about a film set in fusty, honor-bound post-World War I Great Britain and featuring perhaps the dullest of sports disciplines, track and field. With the possible exception of "Rocky," I can't think of a more thrilling, satisfying sports film.
At Cambridge University, Harold Abrahams runs to exalt himself and force his acceptance in a society he admires but at the same time resents for the way it holds him at bay for his being Jewish. Meanwhile, on the other end of that same sceptered isle, a Scottish athlete preparing for a career as a missionary in faraway China emerges as Abrahams' nearest rival, though Eric Liddell runs for quite different reasons, feeling God's pleasure in his speed and a way of using his athleticism to promote his faith in an increasingly Darwinian world. These twin, competing drives, each exemplary in its own way, find their common culmination at the 1924 Olympic Games in Paris.
"Chariots Of Fire" was the surprise winner of the 1982 Best Picture Oscar, and unlike other Oscar winners from that decade and others, it seems in its own quiet way to gain in stature with the passage of time. A lot of what makes "Chariots Of Fire" great is immediately apparent, like the sumptuous period detail and the Vangelis score, including the engaging title music that had its own remarkable underdog run to the top of the U.S. pop chart. A source of ready, recognizable parody, the opening scene of the British runners striding across a windswept strand in slow motion is as gripping today as it was 25 years ago, when it inspired a generation of overweight middle-aged people to put on their Nikes and give jogging a try.
Some other things that make "Chariots Of Fire" great become a little clearer with multiple viewings. Take the Oscar-nominated editing by Terry Rawlings. "Chariots Of Fire" is epic in scope, and seems to take its time developing in much the same encompassing way as "The Right Stuff" would do with the Mercury astronaut program a couple of years later. Yet while that later film is over three hours long, "Chariots Of Fire" weighs in at just over two hours, slow motion and all.
Oddly, neither Ben Cross as Abrahams nor Ian Charleson as Liddell were nominated for Oscars. Both would have been deserving nominees. Cross provides an empathetic center as Abrahams, really the nominal star of the film, and a source of tension as he deals with the contempt of his social superiors both for being Jewish and for hiring a professional coach, Sam Mussabini. (Ian Holm, the only acting nominee, though he lost to John Gielgud, who plays one of the disapproving Cambridge dons here and won for his engaging if one-note performance as the butler in "Arthur.")
Cross gives a great, layered reading, but I'm simply in awe of Charleson's quiet embodiment of the Christian ideal as Liddell, especially the rainy scene after a meet where he addresses a working-class crowd about faith: "Then where does the power come from, to see the race to its end? From within." The way the sun pokes out as he finishes his address is spine-tingling, but not any more so than the commanding yet humble gaze with which Liddell takes in his audience.
That's the message of the film, really. It helps to have a good pair of legs, but the greatest bodies are nothing without being infused by true spirit. When Liddell refuses to wilt under the pressure of his country's prince, who asks him to break faith with his beliefs and compete in a Sunday meet, it's the film's greatest moment of triumph, underscored by the words of a sympathetic noble: "His speed is a mere extension of his life, its force. We sought to sever his running from himself." So instead we see Liddell address a church congregation while the games go on, and his words are mixed with scenes of triumph and defeat. One single image frozen in my mind shows the film's narrator, the likable Montague, losing his big race, his face contorted in rage and pain, while Liddell's voice intones: "They shall run, and not be weary. They shall walk, and not faint."
There are some dry moments in the film, and the romance between Abrahams and a young singer feels tacked on for female appeal, but given that women compete as much as men do these days, in sports and elsewhere, the overall message of "Chariots Of Fire" feels more welcome and enveloping now than ever. Winning is a great thing, but reaching your true potential is the real race worth running.