**1/2

One of the last in a long line of sweeping historical epics produced by Hollywood in the 1950s and 1960s, “55 Days at Peking” tells the story of the final days of the Boxer Rebellion in China, when a large sect known as the I-ho Ch’uan determined to rid the country of foreigners, which it undertook by launching attacks on foreign political, military and religious missions as well as Chinese Christians.

These bloody attacks killed tens of thousands of innocent men, women and children and other combatants over a two year period that began in 1898. By August of 1900, at which point the film takes up the story, the Boxer Rebellion sought to gain the backing of the Empress of China and the use of her Imperial troops, which had publicly remained on the sidelines, but secretly supported the cause of ethnic cleansing.

Foreign governments controlled most of China in 1900, reaping untold wealth and natural resources without benefit to the local population. Once the rebellion was in full swing, these governments (particularly the British) were under tremendous pressure to do more than simply defend their embassies and residential compounds. Ironically, it was the British legation, the largest and most powerful in China and the one that had profited most from their colonial occupation of the country, that didn’t want to engage in armed conflict, pushing instead for a diplomatic solution.

In “55 Days at Peking,” David Niven is the British Ambassador, a typically restrained English character who butts heads with the typically visceral and aggressive American Marine commandant, played by Charlton Heston, who presses them to take up arms. Adding to the intrigue, and lending the narrative a bit of soap opera, is Ava Gardner in the role of a disgraced Russian countess who, predictably, winds up in the middle of these two determined men and the increasingly violent conflict engulfing the region.

It’s when the final phases of the revolt begin that the film really starts to come alive with some truly spectacular battle sequences—these scenes have a depth of realism that no computer-generated special-effects could match, and they are breathtakingly choreographed and exciting to watch, a testament to assistant director Andrew Marton, who took over for Nicholas Ray, fired by the producers midway through the project.

While “55 Days at Peking” will hardly go down in cinematic history as a filmmaking classic, in part because of its occasionally uneven performances and a narrative that fails to dig deeper into the subtext and backstory of the subject, this film has something to offer both as a rousing entertainment and as an example of filmmaking on a scale that has become nearly cost-prohibitive.

Suffice it to say that the film is a good example of one in which the whole is less than the sum of its parts. But many of those parts are highly satisfying in a manner befitting Hollywood’s traditional formula for escape.

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