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Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

The Prisoner of Zenda
Rating: *****
Origin: USA, 1937
Director: John Cromwell
Source: Warner Bros. DVD

David Selznick bought the rights to The Prisoner of Zenda specifically as a starring vehicle for Ronald Colman, who was at the height of his fame coming off Lost Horizon (1937). Colman, of course, was cast in the dual role of Rudolf Rassendyl / King Rudolf, and Selznick surrounded him with a first-rate cast, including the glowing Madeleine Carroll as Princess Flavia, and C. Aubrey Smith and his whiskers as the king’s loyal Colonel Zapt. But best of all are the villains: Raymond Massey, looming and ominous as the would-be usurper Black Michael, and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., as the raffish rogue Rupert of Hentzau, who steals every scene he appears in (as Rupert does in every version of Zenda).

The story sticks pretty closely to that of Anthony Hope’s 1894 novel—and if you’re not familiar with it, why are you wasting time reading this? On the eve of his coronation, King Rudolf of Ruritania is kidnapped, but his loyal aides convince his lookalike English cousin to stand in for him. While impersonating his royal cousin, Rassendyll falls in love with the king’s betrothed, Princess Flavia—and she with him. Heartbreak ahead! Meanwhile, good guys Colonel Zapt and Fritz von Tarlenheim (a very young David Niven) are in a desperate dance with the villains, as nice and nasty try to outmaneuver each other before their various threats and ultimatums erupt in violence.

There’s so much to love in this movie: drugged wine, secret passages, throwing knives, and brooding Castle Zenda, so medievally murderous it’s practically a character unto itself. The outrageous helmets and embroidery-crusted uniforms of the Ruritanian nobles and guards cannot be improved upon. And everybody wears monocles! So fine.

In the end it all comes down to swordplay, of course, in a climactic duel filmed by James Wong Howe, who projects the duelists’ shadows thrice life-size on the walls of Castle Zenda. (Yes, this is where that trope originated.) The Oscar-nominated soundtrack is by Alfred Newman. Watch for Mary Astor in the small but pivotal rôle of the adventuress Antoinette de Maupau. Fun factoid: When the first theatrical production of Zenda was the hit of the London stage in 1896, the dual role of Rudolf and Rassendyll was played by … C. Aubrey Smith. (Pre-whiskers!)

By |2018-02-11T17:37:31-05:00December 16, 2017|Cinema of Swords, Ellsworth's Cinema of Swords|Comments Off on Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

Prisoner of Zenda (1922)

The Prisoner of Zenda
Rating: ***
Origin: USA, 1922
Director: Rex Ingram
Source: Warner Bros. DVD

The Prisoner of Zenda

This film, the second silent movie adaptation of Anthony Hope’s best-selling 1894 novel, features craggy-faced Lewis Stone in the dual parts of Rudolf Rassendyll and King Rudolf, and Ramon Novarro, in his breakout rôle, as the villain Rupert of Hentzau. Every version of Zenda is stolen by the engaging rogue Rupert, and this is no exception—and Novarro’s raffish charm in the part made him a star. The movie starts slow, and its talky set pieces betray the production’s origins as a stage play, but the emphasis on interiors and close-ups gives plenty of scope for mugging by an array of fine silent-screen character actors. A great deal of effort was put into Ruritanian pomp and display that hasn’t aged well, and the story doesn’t really pick up until over an hour into it—but once the action starts, there’s actually more swordplay than in the better-known 1937 and 1952 versions. The last forty minutes definitely redeem the previous seventy, and the fencing in the final scenes is better than anything we’ve seen previously in the silent era. Visual Bonus: monocles and jodhpurs!

By |2018-02-11T17:37:10-05:00December 16, 2017|Cinema of Swords, Ellsworth's Cinema of Swords|Comments Off on Prisoner of Zenda (1922)

Princess and the Pirate

The Princess and the Pirate
Rating: ***
Origin: USA, 1944
Director: David Butler
Source: Warner Bros. DVD

The Princess and the Pirate

You wouldn’t know it from his later career, but there was a time when Bob Hope was genuinely funny. His movies in the 1940s followed a formula: stuck in a Hollywood genre film—Western, gangster, monster movie—Hope, a genial but cowardly shmoe, fouls up and gets in trouble with the bad guys. Trying to avoid whatever doom is at hand, he falls in with an Aspirational Blonde who’s also threatened by the creeps, and having to save her gives him the spine and spunk necessary to outwit the villains. In this entry, the villains are a crew of cartoonish Caribbean pirates led by a captain known as Hook because—do I have to tell you? Hope plays a comically-bad itinerant actor called Sylvester the Great, which gives him an excuse to adopt various guises over the course of the story (including, of course, a fop with a quizzing glass). The Aspirational Blonde is Margaret (Virginia Mayo, fittingly pale, bland, and cloying), who’s been abducted by the pirates and held for ransom because she’s actually the Princess of … somewhere, we’re never really told. Facts, meh: the story’s just a framework for a torrent of gags. The jokes start to get good when Walter Brennan shows up in the pirate crew, playing a crazy coot named Featherhead with unholy glee. He helps Sylvester and Margaret escape and sends them off on a cockamamie mission to dig up Hook’s buried treasure.

The escapees sail their dinghy to the pirate port of Casarouge, where after various mock-frightening encounters with the town’s scurvy citizens they run afoul of the colonial governor, the oleaginous La Roche, who’s played by the fine Austrian actor Walter Slezak, making his Hollywood debut in a comic rôle tinged with menace—his specialty. In fact, he made such a strong impression in this film that he spent the rest of the 1940s playing wily villains in historical adventures. Hook reappears and bellows a lot, Featherhead pops out of a wardrobe and tattoos a treasure map on Sylvester’s chest, Margaret sings a song, and there’s a good deal of chasing around the governor’s mansion. It’s pretty funny, actually, until the dumb deus-ex-machina ending invalidates all of Sylvester’s reluctant heroism. Walk the plank, writers.

By |2018-02-11T17:36:40-05:00December 16, 2017|Cinema of Swords, Ellsworth's Cinema of Swords|Comments Off on Princess and the Pirate

Prince Who was a Thief

The Prince Who was a Thief
Rating: ***
Origin: USA, 1951
Director: Rudolph Maté
Source: ATI Entertainment DVD

This is the first of many sword-swinging starring rôles for Tony Curtis, whom you really can’t avoid if you’re watching historical adventures made in the ‘50s. Everybody mocks Curtis, and it’s mostly deserved, because he just doesn’t have the wits of a Burt Lancaster, or even a Louis Hayward, but he’s not terrible so much as just mediocre. Somebody was persuaded, and persuaded him, that he was movie star material, and it took Hollywood about ten years to figure out that he was best employed as a reliable second banana. Fortunately he’s offset in this film by engaging performances from Everett Sloane and from Piper Laurie, who even this early in her career knew exactly what she was doing.

As in The Prince of Foxes, Sloane excels playing a thief and assassin, though here with a comic touch he didn’t get a chance to show in the earlier film. Hired to kill the infant Dey of Tangier so the child’s wicked uncle can assume the throne, when the time comes he can’t do it, so he fakes the murder and takes the child to raise as his own. As in all these tales of a rightful monarch raised by someone else, we know how it’s going to end, so the pleasures or disappointments come in the getting from here to there. This time the trip is mostly worthwhile. The boy grows up to become Julna (Tony Curtis), the city’s greatest thief, who is fixated on its greatest prize, the treasury vault where the false dey stores the gold his tax collectors wrest from the people. The business of thieving gets a proper workout in this movie, and Julna’s exploits evoke the young Conan the Barbarian, or a Dungeons & Dragons rogue. The whole thing is shot on soundstages, with no exteriors at all, just the ever-dark city streets and the moody lamp-lit interiors that surround and tower over them.

In proper Thief of Bagdad fashion, while escaping some guards Julna goes where he shouldn’t and casts his eyes on forbidden fruit, his beautiful cousin the Princess Yasmin (Peggie Castle). The thief is smitten with the snotty princess, but as soon as he cute-meets another thief, Tina (Piper Laurie), during a bungled jewel robbery, we know she’s really the one for him. The barely-legal Laurie, as slippery as an eel and as cute as two bugs, is a wide-eyed naïf who speaks of herself in the third person like an Elder Scrolls Khajiit, and is just as adorably avaricious. Lissome and energetic, she effortlessly matches Curtis’s considerable athleticism, usually while squealing with glee. She’s a delight.

Though based on a story by Theodore Dreiser, of all people, the plot is standard-issue claptrap, with mistaken identities, intrigue in the dey’s court, and an egg-sized pearl the possession of which is the key to marrying the snotty princess. There are several unnecessary scenes of “oriental” dancing by scantily-clad women, but to be fair there’s also a lot of gratuitous swimming by the bare-chested Curtis. There are gags interspersed between the thefts and pursuits, but about half of them fall flat, often because they rely on labored locutions such as, “Begone, you sons of she-camels!” Still, the scene where the thieves use geese as projectiles is charming. In the end, Julna is revealed as the Rightful Dey—he has a tattoo AND a scar, to make doubly sure—the snotty princess is packed off, and Tina is forced to take a bath so she can be properly married. Ending in a marriage: in classical terms, that’s what makes it a comedy, right?

By |2018-02-11T17:36:22-05:00December 16, 2017|Cinema of Swords, Ellsworth's Cinema of Swords|Comments Off on Prince Who was a Thief
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