Black smoke billowed from bombed-out buildings, explosions shook rubble-strewn ruins, and squadrons of planes filled the sky dropping legions of British paratroopers as German tanks rolled through streets littered with bodies. It was a military operation like no other, costing millions. Yet nobody died.
These dramatic scenes were highlights of the 1977 movie classic A Bridge Too Far, which told the story of Britain’s biggest military defeat in the wake of D-Day during the Second World War 80 years ago.
“It’s the greatest epic war movie ever made,” says film historian Simon Lewis, author of the fascinating new book Making A Bridge Too Far, revealing the warring Hollywood egos, logistical nightmares and challenges faced in creating the famed film.
“It had one of the most expensive casts ever assembled, with Robert Redford, Anthony Hopkins, Sean Connery, Ryan O’Neal, Laurence Olivier, Dirk Bogarde, Gene Hackman, James Caan, Elliot Gould, James Fox, and many more,” he continues.
“And it was filmed before CGI was invented, so almost everything you see on screen was real. It’s still important today, one of those films that you hope will be watched by those that lead us into war, to be aware of the enormity of political decisions, the mistakes that can be made, and the horrors of combat.”
After the D-Day landings in June 1944, the Allies quickly pushed German forces back through France and Belgium, and Britain’s General Montgomery saw the chance to end the war by Christmas with a daring thrust into Holland and then on into Germany itself.
Operation Market Garden, launched on September 17, 1944, aimed to drop 35,000 troops behind enemy lines to capture Dutch bridges all the way to Arnhem, near the German border. Meanwhile, a huge armoured convoy raced to meet them.
From there, if it went according to plan, they would cross the Rhine and charge into Germany. British paras succeeded in capturing eight bridges, but the Germans resolutely held Arnhem, which General Frederick ‘Boy’ Browning famously described as “a bridge too far”. Of 12,000 British troops who spearheaded the operation, 8,000 were dead, missing or captured before survivors retreated.
It took the Allies just seven days to plan and launch the heroic if doomed attack. Making the movie, based on Cornelius Ryan’s book of the same name, took two painstaking years, and was almost as chaotic. Even recruiting the cast proved an ordeal.
Steve McQueen demanded $3million for four weeks’ work playing US Major Julian Cook, commander of the 3rd Battalion, 504th Parachute Infantry Regiment. Robert Redford asked for $2million and won the role.
Audrey Hepburn, who as a child had lived through the battle of Arnhem, turned down the film because its story left her “destroyed”. Roger Moore passed because of a scheduling clash with his next James Bond movie.
Sean Connery turned the film down twice, saying: “I really felt it was too disturbing to resurrect what took place, all those tragic deaths.” He relented, playing Maj Gen Roy Urquhart of the British airborne forces, when promised it would not glorify war.
Twelve of the film’s biggest stars signed on for $125,000 a week each.
But when Connery learned of Redford’s hefty salary, he went on strike until his own pay was adjusted. Dirk Bogarde, who accepted a mere $100,000 for 12 days’ work because it covered repairs to his garden wall, was also angry to discover his co-stars’ heftier pay.
Michael Caine bumped into the film’s producer in Hollywood and complained: “Every other bloody actor in town’s in your movie – why not me?” He became a tank commander, Lieutenant Colonel Joe Vandeleur.
James Caan, who often arrived on set late and hungover, proved unpopular as he practised his rodeo roping skills by lassoing unsuspecting crew members. Yet the cast bonded.
“It was the first war movie to put its cast through boot camp,” says Lewis.
“Fifty actors spent a month being trained in weapons, tactics and manoeuvres, so by the time filming began they operated like a real unit.” They also shared a love of cricket, and star-studded matches played on bomb-scarred fields between shots.
Filmed almost entirely on location in Holland, the movie fired 4.7 million blanks, a ton of high explosive, 20 tons of low explosive, and burned 10,000 old car tyres to fill ruins with black smoke.
Producers also wrangled an armada of Second World War-era Dakota transport planes, gliders, tanks and military vehicles.
“Director Richard Attenborough commanded the film’s complex logistics with military precision,” says Lewis.
One of the operation’s biggest battles was around the Nijmegen bridge across the Waal River, but filmmakers could only shoot on it for one hour every Sunday morning over four weekends. “It was like closing the M1, so they had to have everything perfect when cameras rolled,” says Lewis.
“Corpses must keep their eyes shut at all times,” Attenborough urged hundreds of extras littering the ruins. Redford led the film’s attack on a German-held bridge, paddling across the fast-moving river with his troops as explosions blasted boats and shook the water.
Watching his costly star amid detonations, Attenborough confessed: “I died a million deaths.” Reaching the far side, Redford ran into an explosion that left him blackened with soot, raging: “I’ve never in my f***ing life experienced anything like that!”
The final Sunday filming on the bridge became known as “the million dollar hour” – if they failed to get the shots needed, Redford would have to stay for an additional week to film for an hour the following Sunday, adding $1million to the budget.
But luck was with them. Several veterans of Operation Market Garden served as technical consultants on the film, not always so happily. As Anthony Hopkins sprinted from building to building under gunfire playing Lt Col John Frost, perhaps the greatest British hero of Operation Market Garden, the real Frost yelled to him: “No! Stop!”
“Frost said that he never ran, but walked between buildings to show his contempt for the enemy machineguns,” says the author. “But audiences would think Hopkins mad if he strolled under gunfire, so he just ran a little slower – one of the film’s many compromises.”
Filming the historic parachute drop near Arnhem proved difficult as days of cloudy weather made for a dull scene.
Attenborough begged producers for one more day’s shooting, costing $75,000, and at the last minute blue skies emerged as 350 soldiers on loan from the British Parachute Regiment descended.
But as Attenborough’s cameras panned down, he saw some of his “soldiers” playing cricket on the landing field, only belatedly running to grab their weapons.
In another battle scene RAF Typhoon fighter-bombers blasted Germans hidden in a forest, dropping fake bombs while Attenborough set off explosions below.
“It was one of the best sequences I’ve ever witnessed,” said special effects supervisor John Richardson. “But you know what? Not one bloody camera caught it.”
Five cameras had long lenses focused on the planes unleashing their bombs, and none had a wide lens to capture the explosions. They had to repeat the attack again the next day.
Filming was not without its dangers: a stuntman was severely injured falling from a tall building, and several parachutists suffered broken bones. “They were professional soldiers,” humphed director Attenborough later. “They didn’t get any extra pay.”
Historians later critiqued small details of uniforms and military equipment the film got wrong, but Dirk Bogarde came in for the greatest opprobrium for his portrayal of General Browning as aloof, shallow and heartless. Bogarde blamed Attenborough, complaining of his “treachery”, and feared the film might cost him a knighthood (he finally received one in 1992).
“A Bridge Too Far is a draining experience to watch because, after all that effort and loss of life, it ends in defeat,” admits Lewis.
“But amid disaster the film is filled with inspiring acts of valour.
“There’s a particularly British pride in fighting against the odds, refusing to give in. That’s why it’s still relevant today.”
Making A Bridge Too Far by Simon Lewis (GoodKnight Books) is available via Amazon
