The Premiere of The Bridge on the River Kwai

It's February 13, 1945, in the skies over Southeast Asia.

American pilot Carl Fritsch peers out of the cockpit of his B-24 bomber.

Nicknamed the Crusader, the plane hums and shakes as its four powerful propeller engines drive it through the clouds.

Carl knows this route well.

He and his squadron have tried bombing today's target before without success.

It's a bridge nicknamed Old 277, and is part of a jungle railway constructed by the Japanese to transport supplies between Thailand and Burma.

In the past, Carl and the rest of his squadron have often been forced to retreat by anti-aircraft fire before they even get near the bridge.

But Carl has a good feeling about today's run.

They're getting close.

Pushing on the stick, Carl puts the bomber into a dive.

Below him, the bridge grows larger.

The ground approaches fast, and Carl's heart races as anti-aircraft fire erupts around him.

Carl silently prays his fuel tank doesn't get hit, that his bombardier stationed directly below the cockpit gets his calculations right and releases the payload correctly.

And out of the corner of his eye, Carl can see the other planes in his squadron braving the same barrage of anti-aircraft fire.

One of them is hit, and then another, but Carl keeps going.

Explosions and smoke rise from the jungle floor below.

The bridge gets closer, and Carl can now make out individual soldiers on the ground scurrying for cover.

Then he hears his bombardiers cry that the payload is away.

Carl pulls back on the stick.

The plane roars upward as its bombs detonate below.

The steel and concrete bridge begins to crumble into the river below.

When Carl is out of breath, he didn't realize he was holding.

Then he gives an ecstatic yell.

His men are celebrating too.

The bridge is down, the railway has been cut off, and this is a major win for the Allies.

Pilot Carl Fritsch screams away from the smoldering bridge with a sense of satisfaction.

But he does not know that it was not only enemy soldiers on the ground beneath his bomber.

The Burma Railway was constructed with forced labor.

Tens of thousands of allied prisoners of war and Southeast Asian civilians were used to construct the 250-mile-long railroad.

And whenever the allies bombed the bridges, those prisoners are forced to repair them.

In the years after the war, these prisoners' story will be made famous, but not in a way that many POWs will like.

A popular novel will romanticize events along the infamous Burma Railway.

And many of those who are actually there will feel their story has been twisted even more when the Hollywood adaptation of The Bridge Over the River Kwai premieres on October 2nd, 1957.

From Noiser and Airship, I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day.

On this podcast, every day, we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is October 2nd, 1957, the premiere of The Bridge on the River Kwai.

It's 1942, somewhere between Thailand and Burma, 15 years before the first showing of the Bridge on the River Kwai in London.

25 year old Jack Bridger Chalker crouches in the dense underbrush.

He's a British prisoner of war and is sneaking a break from hard labor constructing the Burma Railway.

But he knows that if the Japanese guards catch him resting, he'll be punished.

From his hiding spot, Jack spots a pair of laborers walking through the forest.

The POW shuffle along the uneven jungle path, their bodies gaunt and their bones nearly piercing through their skin.

One man is barely able to hold himself upright and leans heavily on his companion.

Jack watches intently because he's not just a prisoner, he's an artist.

And ever since he was captured, he's been recording moments like this one to record the dreadful experience he and his fellow prisoners are going through.

As the men pass, Jack reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper and a tiny pen.

He unfolds the paper and smooths it out across his thigh as best he can.

He always carries the piece with him for when inspiration strikes.

And so, shielded by the foliage, Jack begins to work, quickly sketching the men he's just seen.

Their exhaustion was palpable, and now it bleeds onto the paper through Jack's drawing.

And for a little while, Jack's concentration is absolute until he hears a rustle of leaves behind him.

He has just enough time to shove the paper inside his shirt before a guard appears above him.

The soldier grips Jack's arm and yanks him up from the ground.

Neither man has to say anything because Jack knows what's about to happen.

The soldier drags him through the forest to a cell where he's tortured for two days.

By the time Jack is released from confinement, his body is bloodied and bruised, but he survived and so by chance has his picture.

Jack will carry this sketch home with him, and when he's finally freed, he'll use it and his memories to paint watercolors of life in the camps, recording forever what the men on the Burma Railway went through.

He won't be the only one to create art based on their experience, however, only the other artists won't share Jack's determination to depict the truth.

It's 1952 in a small apartment in Paris, a decade after Jack Bridger Chalker sketched two men in the forest.

40 year old writer Pierre Boulle sits at his sturdy wooden desk.

The sounds of the city hum outside his window, but inside the only noise is the rhythmic clack of Pierre's typewriter.

Recently, Pierre was inspired to write a book about British POWs working on the Burma Railway.

He wasn't there himself, but Pierre did serve as a secret agent for the French resistance in Singapore during the war until he was arrested and held prisoner in 1943.

So he feels he knows enough to write a compelling story about life in captivity.

His narrative centers on British officer Colonel Nicholson.

He was invented by Pierre based on an amalgamation of real men he met during the war.

Nicholson is a POW working on a bridge on the Burma Railway, who becomes so obsessed with completing the project that he overlooks the fact that the bridge will aid the enemy.

When Boulle's book is released, it's met with critical acclaim.

Its exploration of duty, honor and the absurdity of war are widely praised, and it even wins a major literary award in France.

In 1954, the book is translated into English under the title The Bridge over the River Kwai.

By this time, former soldier, prisoner of war and artist Jack Bridger Chalker is working as the principal of an art college in Britain.

Even though he now lives a peaceful life, he's still haunted by his experiences during the war.

Like many other returned servicemen, he can barely sleep at night without dreaming about what he went through during his captivity.

So when the buzz around Pierre Boulle's novel reaches him, Jack is excited to get a copy of his own.

Maybe the success of Pierre's novel will help communicate the horrors that Jack and others like him experienced.

But when he reads The Bridge over the River Kwai, he's disappointed.

The novel doesn't portray anywhere near the level of brutality that POWs actually endured.

What's worse, the character of Colonel Nicholson isn't just a misrepresentation of British captives, it's an insult to them.

No British officer ever collaborated with the enemy the way Nicholson does in the novel.

Jack is not alone in his frustration.

Many other POWs who were forced to work on the Burma Railway feel betrayed by Pierre's depiction of events.

But they hope that the novel's popularity will soon fade, and that the public's impression of what really took place in Southeast Asia won't be too distorted.

But unfortunately for former POWs and their families, The Bridge over the River Kwai is about to become even more famous.

The novel has crossed the Atlantic, and a producer in Hollywood will soon set his sights on bringing this dramatic story to the silver screen.

It's early summer 1955 in Los Angeles, California, three years after the release of Pierre Boulle's novel, The Bridge over the River Kwai.

Producer Sam Spiegel walks back and forth in his Hollywood office.

Outside on the studio lot, a movie crew is noisily building a set, but 50-year-old Sam isn't distracted.

He's reading the latest draft of a letter he plans to send to the British War Office.

He's determined to secure their cooperation on his latest film project, an adaptation of Pierre Boulle's novel about the Burma Railway.

The English translation of the book was hugely popular on both sides of the Atlantic, and Sam hopes his film will achieve similar success, but he can't do it alone.

Sam knows the cooperation of the British Armed Forces will make all the difference to the authenticity of the film.

So every word of his letter has to be perfect to convince them to participate.

Sam reads through it one more time.

He's written about his previous experience in Britain, the streets of London, the bright lights and energy of Piccadilly, the warmth of the people's hospitality.

He hopes mentioning these fond memories will persuade the men in charge of the War Office of his respect for their country.

He knows they're likely to be cautious, but Sam has the resume to prove that he knows what he's doing.

Earlier this year, he accepted the Academy Award for Best Picture for On the Waterfront, for which he was the sole producer.

Now with this next project, he wants to win awards again and cement his status as a Hollywood heavyweight.

Once he's satisfied with his letter to the British War Office, Sam slides it inside a large envelope along with a copy of the screenplay.

He then seals the package and mails it off to England.

After an excruciating few weeks, Sam receives a response in early August.

He eagerly tears open the envelope, but as he reads the letter from the British War Office, he soon curses under his breath.

Officials in London think the script paints British POWs in a bad light.

Colonel Nicholson's character in particular is problematic.

The original novel's depiction of the officer has already upset veterans, and this screenplay does little to allay their concerns.

This isn't the first time Sam has heard this complaint, but he believes that the argument doesn't hold water.

This isn't a documentary they're making.

In his mind, the story Pierre Boules wrote is complexed and nuanced, and people who can't see that are simply not able to understand art.

He tosses the paper onto his desk in frustration, but he won't go down without a fight.

Over the next several weeks, Sam Spiegel continues his correspondence with the British War Office.

Slowly, he wears them down until they agree to cooperate with the production, but they stress that they are still not entirely happy about the story, and they want Sam to place a disclaimer at both the beginning and end of the film, spelling out the creative liberties taken with history.

Sam hates this idea and pushes back, proposing a much shorter disclaimer as a compromise.

In the end, Sam wins an almost total victory.

A limited disclaimer will be used, but only in London screenings of the film.

Elsewhere, and crucially in America, there will be no disclaimer at all.

It is a compromise, but one that Sam's happy to accept.

The finished film that will reach the public will be as close to his vision as possible.

Less than two years later, filming of The Bridge on the River Kwai begins in early 1957.

But production is not without its problems.

The sets required are too enormous to be built in a studio or a Hollywood back lot.

So the film is shot on location in Sri Lanka, where new roads are constructed through tea plantations to carry the cast and crew to set.

And in the Sri Lankan heat, nerves become frayed.

In particular, lead actor Alec Guinness clashes repeatedly with director David Lean.

Although the two men have worked together before, twice, their relationship is tense.

Guinness served in the British Armed Forces during World War II and doesn't like the way his character Colonel Nicholson is portrayed.

But despite these artistic disagreements and the vast expense of production, principal photography on The Bridge on the River Kwai will continue and finally come to an end in May 1957.

With Sam Spiegel's vision for the story In the Can, it will soon be time to share the film with the rest of the world.

It's October 2nd, 1957, in London, England, at the premiere of The Bridge on the River Kwai.

Producer Sam Spiegel sits in a darkened theater, his heart pounding with satisfaction as the film's climactic moments play out on screen.

As the final shot of two birds flying over the ruins of the bridge fade to black, the credits begin to roll.

For a brief moment, there's silence in the theater, then applause erupts all around him.

Sam looks about, overwhelmed, as people rise to their feet, they're clapping, growing louder and louder.

Sam then gets to his feet alongside the film's star, Alec Guinness, and its director, David Lean.

His chest swells with pride as Sam turns to face the crowd.

The three men bow slightly, soaking in the ovation, and Sam glances at David, who nods with satisfaction, and at Guinness, whose smile seems to be a little more forced.

He is still not happy with the way his character comes across on screen.

But despite the reservations of its star, The Bridge on the River Kwai will go on to huge success.

Not only will it pull in the modern equivalent of over $300 million at the box office, it will also win seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture for Sam Spiegel, Best Director for David Lean, and even Best Actor for the reluctant Alec Guinness.

But despite its critical and commercial success, the British military and many former POWs will remain less satisfied with the film.

As with the novel before it, many would declare that the film misrepresents their experiences and that it diminishes their suffering in favor of Hollywood glamour.

In their minds, the true story of the Burma Railway and the tens of thousands of people who died constructing it was overshadowed once The Bridge on the River Kwai premiered on October 2nd, 1957.

Next, on History Daily, October 3rd, 1849, American author, Egder Alan Poe, is seen in public for the last time when he's found delirious and a gutter in Maryland, just a few days before he dies under mysterious circumstances.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Mohamed Shahzeem.

Sound design by Matthew Filler.

Music by Throm.

This episode is written and researched by Sarah Batchelor.

Edited by Joel Cowan.

Managing producer, Emily Burke.

Executive producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.