The cult of Samuel Fuller, while abated somewhat in recent years (if for no other reason than a lack of new films to carp about), is still in full force in most corners of filmdom, and for good reason. Unlike the precious auteurs of the latter part of the century, with their idealistic rages against the monolith of Hollywood, Fuller was a guy who knew how to work within the system, for a time at least, and make movies both his way and in a way that would get the suits to pay for them. While Fuller's heyday was the 1950s and '60s, his last hurrah (with the exception of a couple smaller film and TV projects) didn't come until 1980, when he was almost 70 years old. The Big Red One was meant to be the culmination of a life's work, an epic story that would allow Fuller to use his ugly experiences as a veteran to puncture the hallowed fictions of World War II cinema, while still delivering a rock 'em, sock 'em Lee Marvin war movie.
It didn't come to pass.
Continue reading: The Big Red One Review