James Clavell was an accomplished novelist (Tai-Pan) and screenwriter (The Great Escape) when he turned to filmmaking with To Sir, With Love in 1967. The enormous success of that Sidney Poitier drama, which Clavell adapted from E.R. Braithwaite’s novel, won him financial backing for this more ambitious 1971 project, an epic based on a 1959 novel by J.B. Pick. Set during the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648), which began as a struggle between Catholic and Protestant forces in the Holy Roman Empire but morphed into a pan-European conflict, the film is a study of two very different men caught up in the conflict. Vogel (Omar Sharif) is a teacher fleeing the wanton destruction who stumbles upon a Catholic village untouched by the war—and by the plague devastating the country—because of its isolation in a lush valley. The Captain (Michael Caine) is the leader of a group of mercenaries who will gladly switch sides whenever it becomes convenient. Coming upon the village, he is poised to destroy it, but Vogel suggests that instead he and his men winter there, safe from the ravages of battle and availing themselves of the well-stocked larders; the pragmatic soldier finds the prospect appealing, especially after he makes the acquaintance of the accommodating Erica (Florinda Bolkan). He imposes his rule, using threats and, when necessary, brutal violence to maintain order among the locals and a degree of discipline among his band of ruffians. He also enlists the reluctant Vogel to smooth relations with the villagers, particularly wealthy headsman Gruber (Nigel Davenport) and witch-hunting Father Sebastian (Per Oscarsson); Vogel too gains an admirer in Inge (Madeleine Hinde), the daughter of bluff farmer Hoffman (Arthur O’Connell), although she is already betrothed to handsome Andreas (Christian Roberts). One might expect The Last Valley to become a simplistic contrast between a rationalistic teacher and a cruel military man, but the screenplay is a more subtle affair, pitting The Captain’s cynical manipulation against Vogel’s desperate efforts to maintain a fragile peace. Clavell was clearly aiming for a literate spectacle in the vein of David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia, a commentary on mindless fanaticism and endless war that would be especially pointed during the Vietnam era. But the verbosity of the script and the extreme carnage, which includes scenes of physical mutilation as well as piles of corpses and a gruesome burning at the stake, did not appeal to audiences of the time, and the film was a financial disaster. Still, it is the very definition of a fascinating failure, and in the canny performance of Caine and rousing score by John Barry (complete with choral interpolations) possesses elements well worth rediscovering. The transfer does not capture the visual clarity and vividness of the original 70mm Todd-AO release, but in the absence of a full reconstruction it is at least watchable. With trailers and an audio commentary by three enthusiastic film historians as extras, this is a strong optional purchase. (F. Swietek)