Among the many enduring myths about the Second World War crafted by Hollywood in the post-war decades, one of the most persistent and intellectually problematic is the depiction of Field Marshall Erwin Rommel as a military genius and a noble, chivalric leader who, despite fighting for Adolf Hitler, somehow represented the antithesis of everything the Third Reich stood for. The film most responsible for cementing this romanticised legend in the popular consciousness is the 1951 biographical dramaThe Desert Fox: The Story of Rommel. It was a considerable commercial hit, though not without controversy. In a move characteristic of the studio system, 20th Century Fox sought to address some of the criticisms—particularly those accusing it of undue sympathy for a German general—while also capitalising on the stellar status of James Mason in his acclaimed role. The result was a quasi-sequel of sorts, a film dedicated to the men who actually fought against Rommel and, in the process, earned a measure of glory themselves. That film was The Desert Rats, a 1953 war action drama directed by Robert Wise. Unfortunately, this well-intentioned corrective proves to be a solid but ultimately unremarkable and flawed piece of cinema, one that, in its attempt to right one Hollywood wrong, inadvertently creates several others.
The plot is set in North Africa in the spring of 1941, beginning shortly after Rommel’s arrival as commander of the German expeditionary force, dispatched by Hitler to rescue his faltering Italian allies. With characteristic audacity, Rommel miraculously turns the tide, forcing the British and Commonwealth forces into a headlong retreat and erasing their earlier gains. As he plans a thrust towards the Suez Canal, one thorn remains in his side: the Australian 9th Division, which has fortified itself in the Libyan port of Tobruk. Supplied by sea, this garrison ties down large Axis forces that Rommel would prefer to have at the front, leading to one of the most celebrated sieges in Australian military history. The film focuses on the garrison’s trials, led by an unnamed General (Robert Douglas), who is saddled with logistical nightmares and the politically delicate task of integrating British officers into Australian ranks. The protagonist is the newly arrived Captain “Tammy” MacRoberts (Richard Burton), a young, by-the-book officer who must win over his sceptical Diggers. In a contrived but effective piece of casting, MacRoberts discovers his old schoolteacher, Tom Bartlet (Robert Newton), now a private in his company, a man who fled to Australia to escape his alcoholism and volunteered when war broke out.
What follows is an episodic recounting of the siege’s highlights. MacRoberts proves himself a capable leader, the General correctly predicts Rommel’s tactics to fend off an early tank assault, and the Australians endure relentless bombing while conducting daring nocturnal raids. The most spectacular of these involves using captured Italian lorries to infiltrate enemy lines and destroy a vital ammunition dump. The narrative takes a curious turn when MacRoberts is wounded, captured, and ends up sharing a tent with a recuperating Rommel (James Mason, reprising his role), who was injured in an Allied air attack. Their brief, stilted conversation attempts to humanise the adversary without glorifying him. MacRoberts later escapes during a convoy attack and returns to his lines. The film concludes months later, in December 1941, with MacRoberts, promoted to Major, commanding a decimated company holding a critical position. Just as they are about to withdraw, the joyous sight of the British relief force from Egypt signals the end of the siege.
As a piece of cinema, The Desert Rats is competently made but lacks distinction. It covers ground already well-trodden by the 1944 Australian propaganda film The Rats of Tobruk, which was made during the war itself and featured a young Peter Finch. Director Robert Wise, utilising desert locations and solid black-and-white cinematography by Lucien Ballard, delivers a few competent action sequences. However, the film feels constrained by its budget and runtime. Acknowledging the difficulty of depicting a months-long siege within a feature film’s limits—it runs a relatively brief 88 minutes—the script employs functional but uninspired voiceover narration to bridge episodic gaps and provide exposition. Furthermore, Wise attempts to turn the budgetary necessity of black-and-white filming into an advantage by liberally incorporating stock footage from the acclaimed 1943 British documentary Desert Victory. While this may have saved on pyrotechnics, the effect is often jarring, creating a disjointed, semi-documentary feel that distances the viewer from the staged drama, much as the stock footage did in The Desert Fox.
The film’s most interesting—and ultimately failed—ambition lies in its handling of Rommel. Here, he is the adversary, not the hero. James Mason, reportedly wearing Rommel’s authentic scarf gifted by the Field Marshal’s widow, delivers a performance that is chillingly understated. He speaks German in his early scenes and, when conversing with MacRoberts, uses English with a heavy, credible German accent. This is a deliberate attempt to present him as a professional, formidable foe, stripped of the tragic martyrdom he was afforded in the previous film.
Ironically, Mason’s limited screen time and nuanced presence utterly outshine the lead performance by Richard Burton. Burton, in one of his early Hollywood roles, is saddled with the one-dimensional character of the stereotypical WWII hero: stiff, courageous, and emotionally opaque. He fails to inject any complexity or palpable humanity into Captain MacRoberts. The performance that truly resonates comes from Robert Newton as the alcoholic former teacher, Private Bartlet. Newton, an actor best known for inventing the stereotypical “pirate speech” as Long John Silver in Disney’s 1950 Treasure Island, brings a wealth of flawed, weary humanity to his role. He effortlessly outshines Burton, providing the film’s few moments of genuine pathos. Tragically, Newton mirrored his character’s struggles in real life; his alcoholism derailed his career and contributed to his death just three years later, a self-destructive lifestyle said to have inspired The Who’s Keith Moon.
If the film’s purported idea was to honour the Australian allies, it betrays this mission with a cavalier attitude towards authenticity that borders on insult. Military history enthusiasts will rightly scoff at visual blunders such as German troops wielding Thompson submachine guns and manning Vickers and Browning M1917 heavy machine guns—weapons entirely incongruous with the Afrika Korps’ arsenal. However, these technical gaffes were minor compared to the offence taken in Australia itself. The decision to centre the narrative on a British officer, supported by a relative lack of Australian actors in significant roles, was seen as a profound slight. The Australians who endured the siege, and the nation that celebrated them, felt their story had been appropriated and diluted. This misstep was compounded by the film’s very title. While the men of the 9th Australian Division proudly called themselves the “Rats of Tobruk,” the moniker “Desert Rats” was historically the nickname of the British 7th Armoured Division. This erroneous title symbolised the film’s fundamental misunderstanding of the history it sought to portray.
The most egregious stray from authenticity, however, was the erasure of Lieutenant General Leslie Morshead, the actual commander of the 9th Australian Division and one of Australia’s greatest military heroes. Replacing him with an anonymous “General” (played by Robert Douglas) was not merely a narrative simplification; it was a denial of national legacy. Morshead himself was fiercely critical of the film, stating that there was hardly anything resembling the actual realities of the siege. His condemnation underscores the film’s core failure: in seeking to create a generic tale of Allied endurance, it stripped the event of its specific, gritty truth and the particular character of the men who lived it.
The Desert Rats achieved only modest success at the box office. Its primary legacy was as a stepping stone for Richard Burton’s ascent to Hollywood stardom. As a historical document, it is a fascinating artefact of post-war cinematic politics. It exists in the direct shadow of The Desert Fox, attempting to provide a counter-narrative but doing so within the same commercial and ideological framework. That played important role in forging the myth of the ‘good German’ to suit Cold War needs. The Desert Rats tries to pivot the focus back onto the “good Allied soldier,” but in its rush to production, reliance on cliché, and disregard for historical nuance, it creates a different kind of myth: a sanitised, Anglo-centric version of events that marginalises the very people it meant to honour. It wanted to be a tribute to the Rats of Tobruk but ended up as a bland, inauthentic imitation, making it one of the more obscure and ultimately unsatisfactory entries in the otherwise distinguished filmography of Robert Wise. In the end, it proves that a corrective made without genuine understanding or respect can be as misleading as the original distortion it seeks to fix.
RATING: 5/10 (++)
==
Blog in Croatian https://draxblog.com
Blog in English https://draxreview.wordpress.com/
InLeo blog https://inleo.io/@drax.leo
Substack https://draxster.substack.com/
InLeo: https://inleo.io/signup?referral=drax.leo
Leodex: https://leodex.io/?ref=drax
Hiveonboard: https://hiveonboard.com?ref=drax
Rising Star game: https://www.risingstargame.com?referrer=drax
1Inch: https://1inch.exchange/#/r/0x83823d8CCB74F828148258BB4457642124b1328e
BTC donations: 1EWxiMiP6iiG9rger3NuUSd6HByaxQWafG
ETH donations: 0xB305F144323b99e6f8b1d66f5D7DE78B498C32A7
BCH donations: qpvxw0jax79lhmvlgcldkzpqanf03r9cjv8y6gtmk9
