Kelly's Heroes (1970)

War, Greed, and Genre-Bending Satire

Released in 1970, Kelly’s Heroes stands as one of the most peculiar and entertaining war films ever made—a mash-up of gritty World War II action, heist movie caper, anti-authoritarian satire, and irreverent comedy. Directed by Brian G. Hutton, who previously helmed the more traditional WWII thriller Where Eagles Dare (1968), Kelly’s Heroes offers a tonal shift from straightforward valour to something far more subversive and eccentric.

Set in the waning days of the European theatre in WWII, the film tells the story of a group of disillusioned American soldiers who go AWOL to rob a bank behind enemy lines. With Clint Eastwood leading the ensemble cast, Donald Sutherland stealing scenes as a proto-hippie tank commander, and Don Rickles injecting comic bluster, the film is both a rollicking adventure and a sardonic jab at the chaos and futility of war.

While Kelly’s Heroes may not have received the critical respect of other war films of its era, it has since developed a devoted cult following and remains one of the most original and enjoyable war comedies ever made.

Plot Summary: The War Within the War

Eastwood stars as Private Kelly, a former lieutenant demoted to the rank-and-file who learns from a captured German officer that a cache of gold bars—valued at $16 million—is hidden in a bank behind enemy lines in the town of Clermont, deep in occupied France.

Frustrated by incompetent superiors and motivated more by profit than patriotism, Kelly recruits a ragtag crew of soldiers to pull off the heist. Among them are:

Sergeant "Big Joe" (Telly Savalas): Kelly’s reluctant commanding officer, more interested in getting his men out alive than in treasure.

"Crapgame" (Don Rickles): A fast-talking supply sergeant with an eye for business and scams.

"Oddball" (Donald Sutherland): A laid-back, peace-loving tank commander who speaks in California surfer lingo and listens to jazz records between shellings.

Together, they set off in pursuit of the gold, dodging both the Germans and their own bumbling superiors—most notably the hilariously self-important General Colt (Carroll O’Connor), who interprets their rogue offensive as a brilliant military manoeuvre.

Tone and Genre: A War Film with a Beatnik Heart

Kelly’s Heroes is a film at war with its own genre. On the surface, it plays like a conventional World War II movie, complete with battle sequences, explosions, and enemy engagements. But underneath, it is a sly, often absurdist deconstruction of the very myths it pretends to honour.

Released at the tail end of the 1960s—a period defined by Vietnam, anti-war sentiment, and cultural upheaval—the film reflects a deep cynicism about authority and warfare. The characters are not interested in glory or ideology; they’re in it for the gold. That, in itself, is a radical departure from the self-sacrificing heroism of 1950s war pictures.

Its tone shifts constantly—one moment a gritty firefight, the next a slapstick scene involving minefields and bumbling officers, followed by a cool, jazzy interlude led by Oddball and his tanks. That fusion of war and whimsy, violence and comedy, works surprisingly well, largely because the film never pretends to be realistic. It embraces its anachronisms (e.g., 1970s language and attitudes in 1944 Europe) with confidence, even glee.

Cast and Performances: A Band of Anti-Heroes

Clint Eastwood anchors the film with his usual steely understatement. As Kelly, he’s not a traditional war hero—more of a calculating rogue, closer in spirit to The Good, the Bad and the Ugly than The Longest Day. Eastwood plays him with minimal dialogue and maximum cool, allowing his co-stars to provide the colour.

Donald Sutherland’s Oddball is the film’s breakout character. With his shaggy hair, zen-like calm, and surreal monologues ("Why don’t you knock it off with those negative waves, man?"), he brings countercultural energy to the battlefield. Sutherland's performance, often bordering on the psychedelic, injects the film with an irreverence that transforms the tone.

Telly Savalas, as Big Joe, plays the gruff realist trying to keep his men safe amid chaos. His chemistry with Eastwood grounds the film emotionally, even as the plot gets wilder. Savalas provides a necessary counterbalance to the absurdism.

Don Rickles is perfect as Crapgame, the weasel-like fixer and supply scavenger. Rickles brings his signature comedic timing and sharp-tongued delivery, turning every scene into a comic set piece without undermining the film’s stakes.

Carroll O’Connor, as General Colt, offers one of the film’s broadest performances. His portrayal of an oblivious, glory-chasing officer who misinterprets the gold heist as strategic genius skewers the pomposity of military command.

Direction and Style: Hutton’s Controlled Chaos

Brian G. Hutton directs the film with a sure hand, allowing for tonal variation without losing narrative momentum. The action sequences are well choreographed, especially the tank battles and the climactic standoff at the bank. He also makes excellent use of Yugoslavian locations (standing in for France), giving the film a gritty, dusty authenticity.

The editing is tight, the pacing brisk despite the film’s relatively long runtime (144 minutes), and the cinematography captures both the grandeur and absurdity of war-torn Europe. The use of slow-motion, particularly in action scenes, adds a stylized touch.

The film’s score by Lalo Schifrin mixes military marches with funk and jazz motifs—reflecting the film’s tonal duality. The theme song “Burning Bridges,” performed by The Mike Curb Congregation, is oddly upbeat and folky, contrasting sharply with the violence on screen—a subversive move that deepens the film’s anti war subtext.

Final Act and Leone Homage: The Gold, The Guns, and The Glare

The film’s final showdown is a clear homage to Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns—especially The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. The sequence in which Kelly, Big Joe, and Oddball face down a German Tiger tank outside the bank plays like a western gunfight, complete with extreme close-ups, slow pans, and tense silence.

This deliberate genre pastiche underscores the idea that Kelly’s Heroes is a war film playing dress-up. It’s a western, a comedy, and a heist movie in camouflage—less about World War II and more about genre manipulation, audience expectations, and the absurdity of heroism in a cynical world.

Themes: War for Profit, War as Theatre

Though it’s light in tone, Kelly’s Heroes has sharp satirical edges. Its central premise—soldiers abandoning the chain of command for personal gain—critiques both the futility of war and the myth of the noble soldier. These men are pawns who’ve decided to change the game.

The film also satirizes military bureaucracy. General Colt is more concerned with publicity than strategy. Command decisions are based on misunderstanding and chance. Victory is accidental. The real combatants are left to improvise, hustle, and survive.

Moreover, Kelly’s Heroes is one of the earliest American war films to show American troops engaging in morally questionable behaviour—not as villains, but as sympathetic anti-heroes. This shift mirrored the disillusionment of a generation coming to terms with Vietnam, Watergate, and a society less willing to glorify war.

Reception and Legacy

Upon its release, Kelly’s Heroes received mixed reviews. Some critics were confused by its genre-blending tone, while others appreciated its irreverence. It was moderately successful at the box office but did not earn major awards or critical accolades at the time.

However, the film has aged remarkably well. Over the decades, it has gained a strong cult following for its bold tone, quotable dialogue, and memorable characters—particularly Oddball. It is now seen as an ahead-of-its-time war film that anticipated later genre hybrids like Three Kings (1999) and Inglorious Basterds (2009).

Conclusion: War is Hell, But It’s Also a Heist

Kelly’s Heroes is a singular entry in the war film canon—mischievous, genre-defying, and slyly subversive. It’s a movie that uses humour to critique authority, gold to question valour, and tanks to deliver punchlines. While it may not bear the emotional weight of Saving Private Ryan or the gravitas of Patton, it doesn’t try to. Instead, it offers something rarer: a war film that dares to laugh, think, and entertain in equal measure.

It’s a cinematic oddball—much like Donald Sutherland’s unforgettable character—and all the better for it.