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Under the Red Robe

Under the Red Robe
Rating: **
Origin: USA / UK, 1937
Director: Victor Seastrom (aka Sjöström)
Source: Alpha Home Entertainment DVD

Under the Red Robe

This film is based on Stanley J. Weyman’s 1894 novel, the most popular book by that now-forgotten English historical adventure author, a man whose work was greatly admired by his contemporaries Robert Louis Stevenson and Arthur Conan Doyle (and by this editor—I included one of his short stories in my anthology The Big Book of Swashbuckling Adventure).

The Red Robe refers to the ecclesiastical raiment of Cardinal Richelieu, portrayed here by the dour and domineering Raymond Massey, who was a perfect choice for the role. But his is actually a minor part: the hero is a veteran swashbuckler named Gil de Berault, played by the German actor Conrad Veidt, whom we all know best as Major Strasser from Casablanca. Seeing beyond Strasser to accept Veidt as a French cavalier takes some effort, but after a while you get used to the idea. (You’ll still laugh at his black page-boy hair, however.) Berault is a notorious duelist nicknamed “The Black Death” who performs occasional missions for the cardinal. Returning from one such mission, Richelieu informs him of the new edicts that forbid dueling, and warns Berault that if he breaks them, he’ll hang. Richelieu then orders some arrests, and plays his flute for a while to relax.

Meanwhile Berault takes his pay to a gambling hell where he’s accused of cheating, challenges his accuser to a duel, runs him through, and is promptly arrested by the Cardinal’s Guard. He’s condemned, but on the way to the scaffold he’s reprieved by Richelieu, who suspends his sentence on condition that he accomplish an impossible task: infiltrate the castle of a rebellious southern duke and bring him back a captive to Paris. The cardinal gives Berault an assistant—and watch-dog—named Marius, an engaging rogue with nimble fingers who’s adept at sleight-of-hand. Cut almost immediately to the south of France—no time is wasted in this film—and the grim and gothic Castle Foix. Berault, reluctantly rescued from drowning in the adjacent river, is taken into the castle, where everyone is suspicious and unfriendly. How to gain their trust?

By the traditional method, of course: romance the lady of the castle! Enter Mademoiselle de Foix, played by French actress Annabella (yes, she has just one name, like Cher). Berault the spy inevitably falls for her, though she’s the sister of the man he plans to betray. This sort of thing usually gives a plot focus, but instead the middle of the movie grows confused, with everyone wearing false names, while agents with McGuffins mysteriously come and go, and character motivations get murky and unclear. It doesn’t help that there’s zero chemistry between Veidt and Annabella, which drains all credibility from their romance.

Oh, there are secret passages, a tower climb, pursuits and escapes, and noble renunciations in the name of honor, but they can’t quite save the thing once it’s gone smash. The ending, when the cardinal comes back on stage, is better, but it can’t make up for the muddled middle. Too bad: Massey is awfully good as Richelieu.

By |2018-01-02T20:59:50-05:00December 16, 2017|Ellsworth's Cinema of Swords|Comments Off on Under the Red Robe

Treasure Island (1950)

Treasure Island
Rating: ***** (Essential)
Origin: USA, 1950
Director: Byron Haskin
Source: Disney DVD

Treasure Island 1950

Walt Disney liked to adapt classic tales that were well-known (and copyright-free), so when he decided to make his first live-action feature, it’s not surprising that he chose Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island, with its child protagonist and adventures in exotic locales. What is surprising is how hard-edged and gritty it is, considering Disney’s later (well-earned) reputation for peddling bland conformist mediocrity. This 1950 film is as tense and dynamic as its pre-Code 1934 predecessor, and just as closely adapted from the novel, though the exact choice of scenes and dialogue varies between the two. Moreover the Disney version, of course, is in vibrant full color.

Though the Disney film’s Billy Bones, Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesy, and Captain Smollett can’t match up to their earlier incarnations, Bobby Driscoll as young Jim Hawkins does well, and is far less grating than the saccharine Jackie Cooper. And as good as Wallace Beery was as Long John Silver—and he was very good indeed—Robert Newton in the Disney version simply blows him away. He is Stevenson’s consummate con man in the flesh, all deference and false humility, constantly letting the mask slip just enough to show the audience the calculating schemer behind the smile—a trick he learned from Beery, to be sure, but Newton perfects it. Plus, the broad West-Country accent he adopts as Silver has become the default talk-like-a-pirate voice of piratical rogues ever since. You can blame Newton for “Ahr,” which he slips in everywhere; at the end of a funeral prayer for a man he’s murdered, he even solemnly intones, “Ahr-men.” And with a wink, you know the mutiny will soon be on.

The film was shot almost entirely on location in Cornwall and the tropics, and it looks great, including the background matte paintings of Bristol Port and a distant Hispaniola run aground on Treasure Island’s shore. Speaking of the Hispaniola, the ship plays such an important rôle in the plot that in any adaptation of Stevenson’s tale it’s practically a member of the cast, and for this version they’ve got a fine square-rigged three-master that’s completely persuasive. The most important decision in the novel, and the most intense scene in the film, is when Jim Hawkins decides to leave the safety of the stockade and go alone to cut the Hispaniola adrift, which leads to the nightmarish pursuit of the lad across the darkened deck and up into the rigging by the deranged and murderous pirate Israel Hands (Geoffrey Keen). It’s the emotional climax of the movie, and after Jim wins through single-handed, there’s no doubt but that in the end the ragtag pirates will be no match for young Hawkins and the forces of right and decency, no matter how John Silver plies his deceitful silver tongue.

By |2018-01-02T22:37:48-05:00December 16, 2017|Cinema of Swords, Ellsworth's Cinema of Swords|Comments Off on Treasure Island (1950)

Treasure Island (1934)

Treasure Island
Rating: *****
Origin: USA
Director: Victor Fleming
Source: Warner Bros. DVD

Treasure Island

Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic 1883 novel established the entire genre of pirate swashbucklers, so naturally it had been filmed in the silent era—five times, in fact. However, none of these older films have survived, so the earliest adaptation we have is this one—but this one’s all we need. It’s a wonderful film that has a lot going for it, but what makes it endlessly re-watchable is the larger-than-life performance of Wallace Beery as Long John Silver.

Conversely, alas, it has one major liability that, despite Beery’s best efforts, makes the modern viewer cringe and wince: the inclusion of Beery’s co-star, child actor Jackie Cooper, as young Jim Hawkins. To be fair, Cooper delivered exactly what was asked of him, which was to be painfully over-earnest and sentimental, like every other 1930s child star. It’s just that by current standards and sensibilities, the performances of 1930s child actors like Jackie Cooper, Shirley Temple, and their ilk, are so God-damned grating that you just want to fast-forward right past them.

All right, we got that little rant out of the way. On to the movie: Treasure Island is a pretty close adaptation of Stevenson’s novel, which means it starts slowly, with the first act involving the fugitive pirate Billy Bones at the Admiral Benbow Inn that establishes the backstory. Fortunately this production has the great Lionel Barrymore (brother of John) in the rôle of Billy Bones, and he leaves no scenery unchewed in a bravura performance that ends in his death from equal parts terror and rum. But in death he unwittingly bequeaths to Jim Hawkins the map to the plunder buried on Treasure Island, and avast! We’re off to the Caribbean.

But how to get there, eh? Eh? Enter Squire Trelawney as played by Nigel Bruce (later to be Dr. Watson to Basil Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes—harrumph, harrumph!). He takes Jim off to Bristol Port, perfectly depicted with a forest of masts above a row of docked ships. On the Bristol wharf we meet Long John Silver, and from there on the rest of the film belongs to Wallace Beery. Silver is the original engaging scoundrel, and Beery plays him broad, smiling, squinting, rolling his eyes and looking around furtively, making sure the audience is in on the joke of his duplicity from the beginning. Jim Hawkins and Squire Trelawney are completely taken in, allowing Silver to pack the crew of the “Hispaniola” with pirates. But Captain Smollett (craggy Lewis Stone, whom we last saw in the 1923 Scaramouche) isn’t fooled by Silver’s smarmy ways, and spots him as a cunning rogue.

But by that time they’ve arrived at Treasure Island, and it’s mutiny, mates, so serve out the cutlasses! The plot adheres closely to the twists and rapid reversals of the novel, and the action scenes are staged well, their imagery striking and memorable. The tense scene in which Jim Hawkins is pursued around the drifting “Hispaniola” by a wounded pirate, Israel Hands, is particularly fine. One can almost forgive the swab for letting Jackie Cooper survive!

Incidentally, they used a genuine three-master for the “Hispaniola,” a beautiful ship, filming key scenes at sea, so the sailing’s all true to life, and the episodes shot high in the rigging are vertiginous. And cackling, mad old Ben Gunn is the real treasure of the island. What a classic! Immortal line: “Them that die’ll be the lucky ones!”

By |2018-01-02T22:38:34-05:00December 16, 2017|Cinema of Swords, Ellsworth's Cinema of Swords|Comments Off on Treasure Island (1934)

Three Musketeers (1950)

The Three Musketeers
Rating: *
Origin: USA, 1950
Director: Budd Boetticher
Source: Amazon Streaming Video

Over the opening title card, the Magnavox Theater announcer intones, “The Three Musketeers: the first full-length film made in Hollywood especially for television!” Magnavox Theater was a brief series of seven one-hour dramas broadcast in the fall of 1950, all of which were live TV except this episode, which was produced by Hal Roach Studios. These sort of early TV “prestige” productions were a lot like Classics Illustrated comic book adaptations—earnest and well-meaning, but stiff, flat, and awkwardly abridged. The abridgement here consists of throwing out nearly everything in the novel except the duel between the musketeers and the Cardinal’s Guards, Buckingham’s secret visit to the queen, and the gauntlet d’Artagnan and the musketeers must ride to Calais to recover the diamond studs, with narration by Athos to fill in the gaps. Production values are better than usual for 1950 television—that is, just two notches above terrible. For once, Porthos is well cast, played here by Mel Archer, a giant of a man with a booming voice, but the rest of the actors are forgettable. For Dumas completists only.

By |2018-02-11T17:46:14-05:00December 16, 2017|Cinema of Swords, Ellsworth's Cinema of Swords|Comments Off on Three Musketeers (1950)
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