As the commanding officer of a remove Scottish battalion, Colonel Jock Sinclair (Alec Guinness) has the responsibility of being a strict leader, but also one who values his soldiers above anything else. This has led him to gain the reputation of a strong but loving commander who is beloved by his subordinates, especially for his unique sense of humour and constant willingness to allow them to have fun, especially in the years following the end of the Second World War, which the majority of them took part in. However, Sinclair’s tenure is cut short with the arrival of Colonel Basil Barrow (John Mills), the man who is announced to be replacing him as the head of the battalion, and who is a far cry from his predecessor. Over the course of a few weeks, Barrow transforms the barracks, known for its rowdy antics and perpetual parties, into a dour, hostile environment, where everyone is forced to conform to wartime practices and routines, despite being in a time of peace. This proves to be extremely frustrating for Sinclair, who has to stand by idly while his successor takes away everything that he worked so hard to introduce, removing the needless traditions that only serve to stifle these soldiers, and replacing them with overly-strict conventions that remove them of all autonomy and freedom, turning them into complacent drones. The two men find themselves in perpetual conflict, with Sinclair’s stubbornness and Barrow’s refusal to loosen his stranglehold on the company causing them to continuously fall out, leading to a psychotic battle of wits that seems headed for nothing but disillusionment and bickering, which is against the principles of unity both seem to fight for. Barrow has the traditions on his side, while Sinclair has the soldiers (who still revere him, and see him as their true commander) on his – through constant attempts to undermine the others, the officers find themselves revealing more about themselves than they were initially comfortable with, leading to even more trouble and despair.

Ronald Neame wasn’t director who could necessarily be included amongst the pioneers of British social realism in the 1950s, despite being someone who looked at many of the same principles over the course of his career. Rather, his work reflected a very keen understanding of fundamentally human issues, especially when they focused on a particular faction of society. Tunes of Glory is one of his more prominent works, and a film that manages to be the rare kind of war story without any actual warfare included anywhere in it. Rather, it’s a caustic psychological dram about the conflicts that occur when tradition and modernity collide, which often leads to positive results, except for in the case where the consequences far outweigh the benefits, which is the central premise of the original novel by James Kennaway, and which the author (in his capacity as the screenwriter of this film) made sure to employ when adapting it to the screen. Tunes of Glory may not appear to be a major work – in both premise and execution, it’s a very simple (almost to the point of being pedestrian) story about conflicts arising between two very different individuals – but through Neame’s assured direction, the stunning work done by its two leads and a general sense of getting to know the underlying issues, rather than just inserting them unnecessarily into the story, it gradually becomes a very compelling work of fiction that has moments of triumphant comedy peppered generously between those of heartwrenching drama, creating a truly effective work of social realism that intends to do nothing more than just observe the trials and tribulations of a particular group of people, set to a particular thematic backdrop that may not be overly original, but is still quite effective in both its simplicity and the meaning embedded within it.

Tunes of Glory is a very simple film, and one centred on a particular storyline that doesn’t deviate too far from some vital themes. Essentially, this is a film about unity – we’ve seen innumerable films focused on war, and how it is often a battle between two conflicting sides. Neame and Kennaway go a different direction with this film, looking at a group of people who are supposed to be on the same side, but are separated not through violent conflict, but rather a more psychologically-complex process of division. At the core of the film are two men of authority, who may have the same title, after having achieved the exact same rank through their wartime efforts, but who could not be more different. One is a fun-loving, easygoing commander who relishes in being a man of the people (which he learned through years of being amongst those who had very little, or nothing at all), and who views each of his soldiers as an individual, even if it means forgetting about the immense amount of authority the military would expect him to be asserting at every moment. The other is someone who came up through the ranks in a more conventional way, working his way through the system, obeying decorum and structure, as if it were sacred – and as a result, he fails to look beyond the confines of his limited experience with troops. Despite seeming as if it is positioning one over the other, Tunes of Glory is remarkably objective on the matters of these two individuals, presenting both cases with an equal amount of attention. It isn’t choosing a side, and it mercifully doesn’t expect the audience to make one either – instead, it wants to portray the differences that come when two radically determined decide to unite their soldiers. One does it through seeing them as friends, getting to know them all and creating something of a brotherhood, while the other dismisses any notion of fraternizing, and instead curates them as a homogeneous group, where deviants need to set straight or punished. There are some fascinating conversations that can be had about this approach, and the director ensures that every amount of potential is extracted from this simple but fascinating premise.

At the centre of Tunes of Glory are two very interesting performances from a pair of hardworking actors who are doing some very compelling work. Alec Guinness, armed with a neat mop of red hair and a quaint Scottish burr, disappears into the role of Colonel Jock Sinclair, and gives quite an unforgettable performance. Undeniably, Guinness is pitching this portrayal unusually high, almost as if he initially thought he was in another one of his more quaint comedies (and his masterful collaboration with Neame in The Horse’s Mouth was only two years before), so there is a sense of levity governing much of this performance, which only makes the final scene of this film, where Sinclair falls apart entirely, all the more unsettling and heartbreaking. Contrasting Guinness is John Mills, who is giving the best performance in the film. As a dignified officer who views commanding a battalion as just an extension of an office job, where rules are to be followed and administrative is to be completed – so the shock of realizing it is far more than this sends him spiralling, and ultimately leads to a complete breakdown. Mills sells every moment of the character – he’s incredibly sophisticated and direct in his approach, but there’s a sadness underlying his stoicism, a kind of downbeat conflict that causes him to lose sight of his intentions, and fall into a slump of confusion and despair. The two leads are quite remarkable, and while Guinness may be dominant (particularly in how he takes up so much of the screen, which could be seen as either a wonderful bit of character development, or needless showboating for the sake of it, which Guinness was certainly not immune to doing at times), it’s Mills who is at the heart of the film, and sells every moment of emotion with a kind of honesty that infuses Tunes of Glory with such a poignant, heartfelt sense of authenticity, and makes it as deeply compelling as it ultimately thrived on being, a result of a keen ability to observe everyday life while gradually showing it in a very different, and often unsettling direct, way.

Tune of Glory is a simple but effective film, one that combines light comedy with hard-hitting drama in a way that comes across as entirely genuine, but never dour. It is intricately-plotted, put together with a bold sincerity that could not have come through without the meticulous detail with which Neame paints this film and its many challenging situations. Direct and unflinching in its conversations on matters such as mental health, social order and individuality, the film carries a wealth of meaning that only becomes more compelling as it moves forward. It has a lot of heart to it, but doesn’t trivialize its bleaker material, especially in the final act, where these issues come to the fore in quite unexpected ways, with Neame and every one of his collaborators finding meaningful ways to explore the depths of the human condition without becoming too heavy-handed. It takes a lot for a film with such intimidating themes to avoid being overwrought, but Tunes of Glory is incredibly effective in finding the truth in even the most harrowing situations. It has its moments of striking beauty, as well as perpetually providing context to a very serious discussion that is often missing in films that look at warfare from the perspective of the actual conflict, rather than the internal challenges that afflict those who are enlisted. It isn’t overly complicated, but is still quite thorough in its wealth of ideas – and through its lucidity in terms of the plot, elegance on the part of the performers, and a general sense of wanting to work its way through the lives of these individuals, Tunes of Glory is a resounding success.