*Not really a Christmas film.
World War II, in Java, British soldiers languish in a POW camp, their captors unaccustomed to European sensibilities, alternative discipline drilling irate tact.
Secluded from the war, or at least not engaging in direct combat, acquaintances develop through mutual boredom, the cultural clash as fascinating as it is disruptive, provocative argument begetting grand decorum.
The British Colonel's (Jack Thompson as Hicksley) generally stubborn and resentful of his inert command, ill-attuned to sycophantic flexibility, and the disrespect it entails.
But Lieutenant Colonel Lawrence (Tom Conti) appeals to humanistic reason and attempts to ease their deprivations, engaging the curiosity of the opposing side, who even consults him at times.
A new prisoner is sent to camp who's much more contentious than the Colonel or his Lieutenant, perhaps they fought like him when they arrived, yet eventually lost their bold ambition (David Bowie as Major Celliers).
He introduces flowers and jaunty disarray.
Having barely escaped a firing squad.
Lt. Colonel Lawrence loves him.
The result's somewhat discontinuous as the narrative ebbs and flows, grim dastardly acculturation diplomatically strung through patchwork.
Such content aptly asserts earnest independence struggling and stifled, neither side able to generate consistency, hence disgruntled cropped themes.
It's like peace trying to break through during cataclysmic epochs, at times making genuine progress, at others lost and lounging.
As Lawrence converses with jailers and guards thoughtful cultural exchanges take place, conflicting political viewpoints accentuating alternatives, while generating oddball friendship.
The film's grim, lighthearted, revolting, evocative, collegial, heroic, and pressing, poetic I suppose in a nutshell, wave upon wave of distressful import.
More people like Lawrence would be a good thing with a move away from the coercive absolute.
The spirit of giving and sympathy.
Mutually constructive pause.
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