Inchon! (1982)

The following is probably the most detailed review of Inchon! (awarded a one-cup rating by we at Cinema Junkie) that exists on the internet. If it contains less detail than one would like, consider that, one, this review is the product of volunteered time, and two, I've a lot on my plate, and have a life.

September the 17th, 2002 came and went. It marked the 20th anniversary of the theatrical release of 'Inchon!', a film that was principally made with the intention of chronicling General MacArthur's involvement in the Korean War. I'd like to think the Korean War an appealing topic for at least a few demographics. That the case, why is the film currently nowhere to be seen? Why is it absent from video store shelves, EVERYWHERE?

It DID have a price tag of 40 to 50 million dollars (a hefty chunk of change in 1982), starred (no less than) Sir Laurence Olivier, Toshiro Mifune, Richard Roundtree, and Jacqueline Bisset, was directed by Terence Young (who'd helmed some of the best Bond films, ever, including 'Dr. No' (1962), 'From Russia With Love' (1963), and 'Thunderball' (1965)), and, for the mostpart, was actually filmed, on location, in South Korea. One would think the film a veritable treasure, given those details, alone.

And I've seen it, and it IS quite the film,... ...but primarily for the wrong reasons. It's a misfire of epic proportions, one of those cinematic rarities where absolutely EVERYTHING is bad,... ...well, I exempt the photography; Bruce Surtees, the Oscar-nominated cinematographer of 'Lenny' (1974), and the son of legendary cinematographer Robert Surtees, does a creditable job, but apart from that, the writing is awkward and hokey (and takes more historical liberties than any film I've ever seen), the directing and staging surpasses inept, setpieces dangle between functional and shabby, and it dawns some criminally bad acting, including from Olivier himself (whose makeup is reminiscent of Billy Crystal's in 'Mr. Saturday Night' (1992)). Looking at the film, it's completely understandable that it was dishonoured at the 1982 Golden Raspberry Awards (for the non-savants, the Oscars for bad movies, better known as the 'Razzies'), garnering awards for Worst Picture, Worst Direction (tying with Ken Annakin for 'The Pirate Movie' (1982), which, a point agreed upon by many who've seen it, is perhaps one of the worst children's films ever made), Worst Screenplay, and Worst Actor (Olivier).

But of the five films nominated for Worst Picture, that year (they being 'Inchon', 'The Pirate Movie', 'Megaforce', 'Butterfly', and 'Annie' (a curious, undeserved nominee)), 'Inchon' is the only one that is commercially unavailable. It can't be found on VHS or DVD, or, for that matter, Beta or Laserdisc. And one wonders why, given that the details above would be sufficient cause to draw or attract at least SOME kind of audience.

Likely it's because the Unification Church (the film's (supposed) primary financeers) regarded it as a desecrating embarrassment, not only because of what it IS, but likely because of the project's origins (Reverend Sun Myung Moon, leader of the Unification Church, who'd put up the money for the film and'd acted as executive producer and principal advisor, was, by some reports, told by Jesus, himself, to pursue this project). Whatever the reason, it has disappeared from mainstream consciousness, after only a fortnight in theatres. I bring it up in casual conversation, NOW, and people look at me dumbstruck, as if such a film could have ever existed.

But it hasn't disappeared off the face of the earth; one just has to know where to look. I'd stumbled upon 'Inchon' a few months ago, a good four years after I'd first found out about its existence (via the archives of the Golden Raspberry Awards' official website). Reading what little information there was available online, I decided I ABSOLUTELY had to see this movie. As I'd said, the videostores didn't have it, and all movie archives and compilation books showed it unavailable on any medium. It wasn't available on Ebay, either as a commercially available copy, or as a bootleg (the only common 'Inchon'-related items are the motion picture soundtrack (primarly on LP, and reportedly compiled, on site, in the basement of an abandoned church), lobby cards, posters, and, once every few months, a Super 16 reel of the theatrical trailer or a costume from the set). I'd even gone as far as writing the Unification Church, to express my interest in seeing the film, to which no response was given.

Then, with further digging, I'd discovered that every few months, a television station in California called the 'GoodLife Network', which, from my understanding, is financed by the Unification Church (coincidence?) runs the movie 'Inchon' ad nauseum, so, with effort, and with reliance on a few connections, I'd finally gotten the chance to see the movie, and after four years' searching it out, I'd say it was definitely worth the effort in finding (if entertainingly bad movies are your thing).

I often find bad movies tend to fall into three categories: those that are hateful, and contemptuous, and have no redeeming value (examples include 'The Pirate Movie' (1982), 'Dice Rules' (1991), 'Free Enterprise' (1999), and 'Snow Dogs' (2002)), and those that look good on paper, but register nil on the screen (examples include 'Mad Dog Time' (1996), 'The Postman' (1997), 'The Million Dollar Hotel' (2000), and 'The Four Feathers' (2002)). Finally, there are those that are harmless, or are even redeemed because of the fact that they're almost masterfully bad, and are often entertaining BECAUSE they're so bad (examples include 'Santa Claus Conquers The Martians' (1964), 'On Deadly Ground' (1994), the recent 'Death to Smoochy' (2002), or any of Ed Wood's films). Excluding the inexplicably graphic and bloody battle sequences that fall in between the drama (the only properly-handled thing in the movie, so much so that one would think the footage was stolen from another circa '60s war epic), 'Inchon' definitely falls into the third category, primarily because the debacle was created with the best of intentions,... ...I think. It's kind of hard to gage a movie that begins with the words (and I am not kidding), 'This is not a documentary of the war in Korea, but a dramatized story of the effect on war on a group of people. Where dramatic license has been deemed necessary, the authors have taken advantage of this license to dramatize the subject.'

Since it's only the privileged few who actually get a glimpse of this extremely rare film (I doubt even a hundred thousand people have seen it, from start to finish), perhaps I should take a moment to share some of what makes this film so ridiculously bad.

After the film begins with that earlier-mentioned graphic about 'dramatic license, etc. etc.', we're given the backstory of the Korean War with all the zest of a high school history class (where shoddy historical film footage is superimposed over a very badly-drawn map of the eastern continents; I'll bet, after the first two minutes, many of those in mainstream audiences that'd actually chanced to catch this movie in theatres were pulling their tickets from their pockets, and looking at them with wonder at would come of their investment of two or three dollars and 140 minutes of their time).

Then comes a barrage of battle footage, illustrating the invasion of the North Korean army south of the 38th parallel. One of the curiosities about seeing this film on the GoodLife Network is that, although the language is censored (more than once is conversation between characters interrupted by deliberately-timed blips of silence), all of the carnage from the battle scenes, and the like, is left completely intact. It's nice to know censorship works so uniformly.

Then we cut to the secondary plot (I love the opening graphic that reads, 'A Small Village-Ten Miles Away-Sunday'; never was such a graphic so ineptly worded). Although MacArthur eventually has a part in this, we're first forced to sit through this lame subplot where Barbara Hallsworth (Bisset), the wife of an American major (who is stupid enough to go furniture shopping near the 38th parallel), is forced to flee this 'small village' to the nearest American Embassy as the village is on the verge of being attacked. Meanwhile, her husband (Ben Gazzara, who I'm told is a good actor, though one wouldn't think so in THIS film, as his is the worst performance in it) is cheating with a young local from a village near Inchon. His intentions are to divorce his wife, and take this girl to America, but she gives him mumbo-jumbo about 'cleaving to her family and her home'. He is forced to return to base, and her father (the great Toshiro Mifune, who is pretty much only a cipher in this movie) returns him there by boat, an en route, they discuss war and pacifism with the uttermost banality, where one has to hear it to believe it. Once docked, he meets up with Sgt. August Henderson (Roundtree, in the movie's only half-decent performance, though Roundtree's the sort that could make the best of anything), where they namedrop ad nauseum (mentioning Truman and MacArthur), and the Major, although about to divorce the woman, expresses concern at his wife's proximity to the 38th, as if love wasn't completely lost. As if there's something that...

...but never mind. We then cut to the Dai Ichi Headquarters in Tokyo, where several reporters make inane banter (film critic Rex Reed is among them, making a cameo as an acting reporter for the New York Herald, and proving, along with 'Myra Breckinridge' (1970), that when it comes to choosing films in which to appear, he stamps his better judgement into lower recesses). An announcement for a press conference headed by MacArthur is given, sparking more inane banter, where the audience is enlightened with details on the General with the detail and wit of an encyclopedia entry.

Then, we meet the man. Not a withered 71-year old General who looks as if he's lived a full life and bears the wisdom of experience, but a 75-year old actor whose puttied appearance makes him look more like a Bob Newhart doll that's spent fifteen seconds' too much time in the microwave, with about as much charisma. No, he's not presented with the complexity George C. Scott gave to bring life to General Patton. No, this performance is more like 'Patton' on anti-matter (and it hurts to be harsh, considering his phenomenal work, only a few years before, in 'Marathon Man' (1976) and 'The Boys From Brazil' (1978); I'm guessing whatever complexity Olivier brought to MacArthur was left on the cutting room floor).

We next meet the General's wife (who spends a lot of the movie in a bathrobe and nightgown) and his dog (which the camera often cuts to when it doesn't know where else to go). He and his wife chat over tea about Frank Hallsworth (i.e. Gazzara's character), so we get more of an idea of what the deal is with HIM, and then off MacArthur goes to his press conference, with his wife giving him a saviour's departure, as she decrees he is the one true hope for the resolution of this conflict in Korea (after which, we get another shot of the dog).

While MacArthur is welcomed at the Dai Ichi building, we cut to Barbara Hallsworth back in Korea, who, after covering only 10 miles in 24 hours (thanks to hundreds and hundreds of refugees who block the path), is STILL fleeing southward, but with a car and chauffeur instead of on foot (which would make one wonder where they'd filled with gas, in that time). An air attack forces Hallsworth and her driver to flee the car to safety. The attack decimates the refugees, as well as Hallsworth's driver, and she is forced to continue the journey alone, driving herself.

We cut back to the vicinity of the Major and the Sergeant, and an insignificant but unsettling scene. One of the film's extras, dressed as a South Korean soldier, is stationed as a sort of warning sign where roadway meets railway. He stops troops from crossing as a locomotive full of soldiers is about to pass, and the locomotive is doing, from the looks of things, about 40 mph. What is especially unsettling is that he stands on the track as he carries out his job, and had he stepped out of the way of the train a half-second sooner, his carcass would have been mangled by the cowcatcher (and it's disturbing enough to make one wonder about the real-life potential of danger, and how irresponsible the director was in putting the extra in this scenario, as things could have very, VERY easily turned out for the worse (unless they had, several times, already, and the guy we're seeing is the one guy of dozens who'd actually made it out of the train's way in the nick of time).

Anyway, this locomotive, because the North Korean army is moving continually southward, is forced to stop short of their destination, and contains, among other travelers, a young Korean lady destined to meet her groom-to-be in Seoul, and now has no way of getting there (this, by the way, is the start of a THIRD inane subplot). The major, who, with the sergeant, is in a jeep on the way there, has cloying compassion for this girl, and against his better judgement (his initial words: 'I help her, and I'll have the whole of Korea on my back'), gives her a lift to the Seoul Railway Station, where her groom to be awaits, and together, they, trek to the south of the Korean peninsula with all the other refugees.

Once the two lovebirds are gone, the major, who to now, has had this cloyingly nagging concern about the welfare of his wife, decides to grab a scooter (conveniently mounted on the back of the jeep), and split up (i.e. the major goes up north, around the parallel to look for his wife, and the sergeant takes the jeep southward).

The sergeant is, in fact, the first to rendez-vous with the major's wife (still in her car), atop a bridge on the River Han. She, only a short time before, had acquired five young orphaned girls (their grandfather had left them with her against her will, on account of a lack of her understanding of the Korean language). The sergeant informs the major's wife of her husband's concern, at which SHE declares her independence in escaping the peninsula to freedom, WITHOUT her husband's help. The sergeant bestows upon her a handgun for her protection (which she will obviously use at some point later in the film) before he is separated from her. Just before the major's wife is completely across, the South Korean army decides to blow the bridge up so that the North Korean army, who is approaching from the north end with tanks, are unable to use it to cross, and they do it just before all the civilian refugees have made it across. The result was intended to be a one of the film's more memorable sequences, but it's just a lame excuse to create false dramatic tension (i.e. the car the major's wife is driving nearly plummets into the river, but she drives it to safety in the nick of time). This, at the expense of many of the bridge's occupants (the majority of whom flail their limbs like idiots as the plunge into the gunky-looking Han), and, from what I understand, a big pile of money (this sequence, shoddy as it looks, was one of the two most expensive sequences in the film, largely because director Young had an exasperating time communicating with the locals).

Followed all this so far? Good, because I'd have given up, a few paragraphs, before; the logic presented just addles the brain, to think about it. And far be it from me to spoil the opportunity/motivation for you to see this atrocious film, for yourself, by revealing every detail and giving you zero reason to seek this gem of merde, for yourself. I will, however, summarize what you have to look forward to:

1. The male of the lovebirds is kidnapped by the North army and forced to kill his comrades at gunpoint (even though the lot of them would have been killed, anyway). O, you superfluous/ambiguous personal moral crisis of the soul, you!

2. The central driving conceit of the film: the plan that supposedly made MacArthur such a genius. Inchon is an essential communications and supply conduit for North Korean troops to the south of that city. The army defending South Korea surrounds the Reds at the west, south, and east, so MacArthur's plan is to have American troops conquer Inchon, cut the conduit, and completely cripple the Red armies to the south. the plan is presented with the inane simplicity of a colouring book, to where one thinks that any dummy could have come up with that plan, only it was MacArthur that actually did, and he's the twit that gets the credit.

3. Bisset's character has several adventures with those kids she lugs about, and befriends them despite the language gap, and when she finally unloads the kids at some convent-type dealy (where the nuns wear bonnets as big as the sails of the Niña), the kids thank Bisset with this crayon drawing that's so damned awful, it'd have been worth the price of admission, all its own, even if admission were a thousand bucks a head.

4. The exchange of musings and 'what-ifs' when Bisset and Gazzara's character finally meet. Oh, never was love so.

5. The execution of MacArthur's wacky plan. For it to work, the lighthouse at Inchon Harbour has to be in ops, or the American troops won't be able to navigate the joint. This involves all our principal players dressing in black, and sneaking out, at night, to light the thing. You know, I don't exactly remember reading about this in history class.

6. Doubtless because this WAS funded by Rev. Moon, we get several mentions of God, and that MacArthur was a tool of God, and, during one pivotal moment in MacArthur's den, the camera wanders to and zooms in on a picture of Jesus.

7. More inexplicable shots of MacArthur's dog.

It kinda sorta makes you wish this thing WAS available on DVD. I sincerely hope it happens one day. Until then, I suppose this essay is pretty much as much as you'll probably be able to find out about the movie, until it IS. Maybe it'll give you incentive to seek it out, and check the thing out, for yourself.

Gabriel Noël, © 2002

N.B.  A special thanks to John B. for his assistance in making this review possible.