October 30, 1943 [Guadalcanal Diary]

Who am I to criticize a diary?

Still, Guadalcanal Diary works best when it forgets to be a diary. The narrator sounds less like a Marine than—well, than I do (and I don't, not even a little). So when he shuts up, the movie shouts how it's nothing but explosions, by sea, land and air—except for the quieter moments of talk about home and baseball, with lots of good-natured ribbing—although I'm not sure actual Marines are so circumspect in their discourse. And I get it: This is not a movie for the Marines (who may be a bit too busy these days to go to the Orpheum) but for us. We need to see that turning point last year as more than a hope—that the war's end began last February, when the Japanese fled Guadalcanal.

I have my doubts—especially in the Pacific—and yes I know: the movie informs me of Japanese treachery, their tendency to stab in the back, their less-than-human status. But these "monkeys" seem to cling tenaciously—and I also know the actual soldiers running the war know this—and OK, so does Guadalcanal Diary. But by the end everything seems wrapped up, an orderly change of command, Marines to Army, and a smiling advance—William Bendix once more on hand to remind us of Flatbush Ave.'s incalculable contributions to the war effort. There's a little gag in the movie: The chaplain hands out copies of Time magazine, and advises them with mock seriousness to "study it carefully"—and one of the soldiers quips, "Now I'll find out how we're doin'." I get it—and how: neither Time nor Guadalcanal Diary can be trusted as much as we'd like, diary or no diary.