More than 55 years later, director Peter Yates probably remains most famous for 1968’s thriller Bullitt. For a less known Yates film, we go to 1971’s Murphy’s War.

Set in spring 1945 as World War II draws to a close, Murphy (Peter O’Toole) serves on the crew of the merchant ship Mount Kyleb. When a German U-boat attacks, this vessel sinks off the coast of South America.

Apparently the only survivor, Murphy ends up in Venezuela and winds up in a missionary settlement. When he finds the U-boat hidden in the jungle, Murphy engages on an obsessive quest for revenge.

With talent like Yates and O’Toole in tow, I went into War with reasonably high expectations. In addition, the film’s premise added to my hopes for cinematic… well, if not greatness, at least pretty goodness.

Alas, I ended up with mediocrity. While War comes with enough to keep the viewer vaguely involved, it never turns into anything especially compelling.

Given its plot, War seems oddly devoid of real tension. In truth, it comes without nearly enough story material to fill its 107 minutes, so it feels padded and slow.

Part of the problem stems from our general understanding of where the story will go. No real surprises pop up along the way, so we find ourselves impatient to get to Murphy’s inevitable attempts to kill Nazis.

If War compensated with rich characters, the absence of much narrative thrust would seem less problematic. However, neither Murphy nor any of the locals he meets or his Nazi antagonists manage to become particularly interesting roles.

One might expect Murphy himself to offer a dark, driven personality, but instead, the movie makes him seem jaunty and jovial much of the time. Even when he appears as though he should feel completely unhinged, Murphy lacks the maniacal energy one would anticipate.

A lot of this stems from O’Toole’s performance, as he delivers a series of tics and mannerisms more than an attempt to flesh out the role. O’Toole’s amped-up turn makes it tough to take the character seriously and robs the part of gravity.

It doesn’t help that similar stories of obsession and revenge pop up frequently through the arts. We get nothing from War that we haven’t already seen in many other properties.

Again, I don’t view War as a bad film, for it manages enough drama to keep the audience moderately involve. But it never becomes better than that, and given those involved, it disappoints.

Murphy’s War appears in an aspect ratio of 2.35:1 on this Blu-ray Disc. The movie came with a largely fine transfer.

Sharpness appeared clear and concise. On occasion some shots looked slightly soft or hazy, but these instances did not occur frequently, and I suspect they reflected the source photography. Instead, the majority of the film was reasonably crisp and detailed.

No issues with jagged edges or shimmering materialized, and edge enhancement was absent. Source flaws stayed minor, as outside of a couple gate hairs and a few specks/streaks, this was a clean image. The movie did show a bit of jitter on a couple occasions, however.

Unman featured a fairly natural palette that leaned a little tan/amber and brought appealing colors within those choices. The tones seemed well-rendered given the movie’s restrained ambitions.

Black levels appeared deep and dense, and shadow detail also was clear and without excessive darkness. Across the board, this became a solid presentation.

The LPCM monaural audio of War held up fairly well over the last 53 years. Speech came across as reasonably warm and natural, with no issues of edginess or intelligibility along the way.

Effects appeared a bit thin, and they didn’t suffer from any notable distortion or other problems. Music also was reasonably bright and rich, with adequate range. For a monaural soundtrack from 1971, War seemed satisfactory.

Four featurettes appear, and Running Out of War goes for 19 minutes, 49 seconds. It involves comments from film critic David Cairns.

He looks at the source novel and its adaptation, the tale’s push toward the screen, cast and crew, sets and locations, photography, stunts and effects. Though billed as an “appreciation”, Cairns instead provides a production history – and a very good one at that, as he gets into matters well. Too bad Cairns didn’t record a commentary.

A Great Adventure spans 31 minutes, seven seconds. This one features remarks from co-editor/2nd unit director John Glen.

Best known for the five straight 1980s Bond movies he directed, Glen covers parts of his film career along with his experiences on War. He brings a solid collection of memories in this memorable chat.

Next comes Dougie, Chic and Me. In this 17-minute, 17-second reel, we hear from focus puller Robin Vidgeon.

Like Glen, Vidgeon goes over his time in movies as well as his work on War. We find another informative interview.

One Man Army lasts 17 minutes, 18 seconds. We get thoughts from film critic Sheldon Hall.

“Army” gets into the book’s path to the screen, genre domains, production elements and the film’s release/reception. Hall brings some good notes but a bit too much of this material repeats from Cairns’ discussion.

In addition to the film’s trailer, we end with an Image Gallery that presents 17 movie stills. It becomes an utterly forgettable compilation.

Due to its plot and themes, I figured I’d enjoy Murphy’s War. Unfortunately, the movie fails to deliver an especially engaging experience, so it ends up as a mediocre affair. The Blu-ray comes with generally positive picture and audio as well as a fairly good collection of supplements. Though watchable, this one nonetheless disappoints.