On the Beach (1959)

Another entry in the Gregory Peck festival, this one seemingly less remembered but important for showcasing Peck's anti-nuke stance. It is not a "beach movie," one lighthearted beach scene notwithstanding. Novelist Nevil Shute evidently chose the title for a touch of irony. It's set mostly in post-apocalyptic Australia and features a dangerous auto race, but that's about where its similarity to the Mad Max franchise ends.

In 1964 (incidentally when Dr. Strangelove and Fail-Safe debuted), bombs have rendered Australia the only reportedly habitable place left in the world -- and not for much longer, as radiation sickness spreads. Naval officers Dwight (Peck) and Peter (pre-Psycho Anthony Perkins) must leave their loves -- new girlfriend Moira (Ava Gardner) and wife Mary (Donna Anderson), respectively -- in order to investigate the first sign of outside life in a while: incessant, indecipherable telegraphy from the ruins of California. Tip: Don't get your hopes up for a Children of Men-like ending.

At 2 hours and 14 minutes, this film really takes its sweet time, even at moments that realistically ought to be quick. The first hour has almost nothing to do with any naval mission. Mainly it examines the prospects of romance in a doomed world. Dwight and Moira seem happy enough (and pretty steamy for the time) in their blossoming relationship, but Mary misses Peter's sweet side. It turns out that Peter obsesses over the certainty that neither Mary nor their baby will live long, and his proposed solution, however common and government-sanctioned, infuriates her.

Adding slight complication to the Dwight and Moira story, albeit pretty tangentially, is the presence of her ex, Julian (Fred Astaire in his first non-musical dramatic role). He engages in the aforementioned race, not particularly caring whether he lives or dies. That's easily the most exciting scene.

A running theme is how much people try to enjoy themselves with what time remains. Prepare to hear plenty of "Waltzing Matilda," mostly instrumental but also as a cacophonous drunken group number.

I've seen several Stanley Kramer-directed features, but about the only way this feels like one of them is in the melodrama. It's loud, cinematically clumsy, and surprisingly vacant. Then again, maybe those attributes befit the subject matter. If you're up for something bittersweet and have a bit of patience, you may want to tune in.