Topper Takes a Trip (1938)

Oct 111938
 
2.5 reels

The good deed performed by the recently deceased George and Marion (Constance Bennett) Kerby in the previous  Topper movie, is being undone.  Conniving Mrs. Parkhurst (Verree Teasdale) has convinced Mrs. Topper (Billie Burke) to divorce her husband Cosmo (Roland Young), because he checked into a hotel with a women (and explaining that it was the ghost of Marion Kerby isn’t helping).  So Marion has returned to Earth in ghostly form, minus her husband but now with a dog (Asta), to set things right.  With Mrs. Topper in France where divorces are easier to get, Cosmo and Marion travel together to win her back, and stop Mr. Parkhurst (Franklin Pangborn), a corrupt hotel manager, and a fake Baron (Alexander D’Arcy) who are after Topper’s money.

Topper, the 1937 comedy ghost story, benefited from a near perfect cast, amusing and engaging characters, and invisibility gags that were fairly new to cinema. It is a classic screwball comedy that has been copied many times. This is the first copy.

The opening credits for Topper Takes a Trip contain a thank you to Cary Grant for allowing footage from its predecessor to be used. Was that part of Grant’s contract or just a way to get his name on the screen? Certainly his absence leaves a hole in the film. Luckily, the rest of the cast returns which, is primarily responsible for the movie being worth your time.

Roland Young, who plays the much abused title character, is an amazing physical comedian, spending much of the movie dancing, fighting, and holding conversations with thin air. A short man who gave the impression of being round although he wasn’t overweight, Young could express confused bemusement no matter what he was doing and equally, could be funny no matter the circumstances. He never had a better role than Cosmo Topper (although he was in a better picture, playing Uncle Willie in the classic The Philadelphia Story). Billie Burke (Glinda, the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz) is once again the flighty, shallow, Mrs. Topper. With her and Young together, it would be nearly impossible to make a film that wasn’t at least watchable. Constance Bennett doesn’t have the personality of the others, and without Grant, is positively anemic, but she is adequate if over shadowed. And I would be derelict not to mention Asta, a wire-hair terrier that became famous in the Thin Man movies staring William Powell and Myrna Loy. Few animals have been as popular, and for good reason.  He has the indefinable quality that makes some animals more fun to watch than others.

Unfortunately, the script has little for these comedians (and the dog) to do. It starts with an eight minute recap of the first film, and then settles into a stream of slapstick gags and no-longer-impressive special effects jokes. Yes, glasses float, but it isn’t enough to base a film around. Most of the better material is retreads of bits from Topper. This is like taking a group of Olympic athletes and putting them on a junior high football team.

While Topper Takes a Trip is based on Thorne Smith’s novel of the same name, there isn’t much of Smith’s work on screen. The novel brought back not only Marion’s ghost, but George’s as well. Losing a major character is a rather large change. I sympathize with the producers. You can’t replace Carry Grant, but perhaps they should have tried, or given up on the project and put the actors together in something new.

Oh well. There’s still a ghost (two if you count the dog), and some great character actors. If you are a fan of silver screen comedies, Topper Takes a Trip is a fine way to wile away a Saturday afternoon.

 Ghost Stories, Reviews Tagged with:

A Christmas Carol (1938)

Oct 081938
 
four reels

Miserly Ebenezer Scrooge (Reginald Owen), known for his cruelty, particularly to his employee, Bob Cratchit (Gene Lockhart), is visited by the spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, and learns the meaning of Christmas.

This MGM, high-gloss version of the Dickens classic is a long way from its weak, 1935 predecessor.  What a difference three years (and a lot of money) can make.  Constructed with a sharp understanding of the difference between film and literature, this adaptation rockets along with a light tone and some major cuts.  But while some scenes are missing, the spirit isn’t.  Gone is the younger, businessman Scrooge turning to avarice and away from his fiancĂ©e.  Also missing are the opportunists selling off his clothing and bed curtains in the future.  Instead, there is a greater focus on the amiable Cratchit family and the jovial nephew Fred.

Lionel Barrymore (best remembered as Mr. Potter in It’s a Wonderful Life) had played Scrooge in a popular annual radio broadcast, so was hired to recreate the role for the silver screen.  However he bowed out shortly before filming began due to an injury, and at his urging, Owen was chosen to replace him.  It doesn’t take much imagination to hear Barrymore in Owen’s interpretation.  He delivers a Scrooge that’s more crotchety than evil, one where it is easy to accept Fred’s pronouncement that the person his uncle is hurting the most is himself.

Nearly stealing the show is the husband and wife team of Gene and Kathleen Lockhart as the Cratchits.  They supply warmth, Christmas cheer, and a good dose of humor.  Making it a family affair, their daughter June took a role as one of the Cratchit children.  She would grow up to play the mother in the TV shows Lassie and Lost in Space, and starred with her own daughter in the fantasy film, Troll.

One of the best tellings of the Christmas classic, 1938’s A Christmas Carol is more accessible than the other traditional versions that tend to be dark and slow.  This, and the 1951 Alastair Sim version, are the two that are on my must see list every year.

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Holiday (1938)

Oct 021938
 
five reels

Johnny Case (Cary Grant), a dreamer in the midst of a very promising business deal, becomes engaged to Julia Seton (Doris Nolan), not knowing she’s an heiress with a very proper, old-school father (Henry Kolker).  Neither father nor daughter is aware of Johnny’s unorthodox plan to make a bit of money and then quit for a multi-year Holiday.  His scheme is supported by Julia’s naive sister, Linda (Katharine Hepburn), her drunken brother, Ned (Lew Ayres), and his old friends, the Potters (Edward Everett Horton, Jean Dixon).

The ultimate New Year’s movie, Holiday is a film where starting over is ingrained in every scene.  The only questions are: will the characters take the opportunities presented, and if so, will they choose the right ones?  Well, there is also a question about you, the viewer.  Will you be willing to change your life, or let it slip away?

Holiday has much in common with screwball comedies.  It has the clash of the classes, the quick wit, and the eccentric secondary characters (Henry Daniell and Binnie Barnes are excellent as pompous, haughty cousins who gossip about our heroes and long for “the right type of government”), but not only is it lacking the lunatic behavior of the genre, it is just barely a comedy.  Really, it is a romantic drama with a few well-placed jokes.  The arguments on what is the best way to live, as well as the trials of relationships, are taken quite seriously, and while the film’s positions are obvious from the start, the situations are quite moving.  It is generally a sad movie, with a feeling of pain hanging over most of the scenes.  This is in no way a bad thing.  It is the type of pain that people need to go through in order to figure out what life means.

Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant would collaborate with director George Cukor and screen writer Donald Ogden Stewart on another of Philip Barry’s plays, The Philadelphia Story, two years later, but Holiday is not a dry run for the latter classic.  Nearly it’s equal in quality, Holiday is a forgotten film with its own unique feel.  The acting is particularly strong, which is high praise for a film where script is all-important.

There’s little I can say about Hepburn or Grant that hasn’t been said many times before, and while their characters do not match any others they played, fans will find a great deal that is familiar.  But Lew Ayres, once famous as Doctor Kildare, has not been remembered as vividly, and it is Ayres who puts in the most compelling and heartbreaking performance.  At first, Ned seems to be an unpleasant, spoiled, and stupid child of privilege (a not uncommon character during, and in the years after, the depression), but events quickly prove otherwise.  Only Ned sees everything that is going on around him.  He understands humanity, his family, and the ways of the world, and it is that knowledge that dooms him.  He’s long lost the energy to fight.  It is Linda and Johnny’s innocence that allows them to escape.  They don’t know there is no way out, so they create one.  Ned has only a bottle to give him solace.  Ayres inhabits the role, giving it warmth and tragedy.  This was the performance that should have won the best supporting Oscar for 1938, and the fact that the statue went to Walter Brennan for Kentucky is one of several major indications that the Academy Awards have no relationship with the quality of a film or performance.

I mentioned Holiday as the perfect New Year’s film, but its treatment of Christmas is odd, and I’ve never been able to explain it.  Not a word is mentioned about Christmas.  Don’t think I require every New Year’s film to mention its bigger brother among holidays, but the movie starts on Christmas Day.  That’s soemthing that you have to deduce.  Johnny shows up at the mansion by cab and meets the full, on duty staff.  Everyone in the city appears to be working.  The Seton family then heads to church where the chosen song is “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” and yet, even in church, no one mentions it is Christmas.  I can’t see any larger meaning for this in the story, so it’s just a weird and meaningless piece of trivia.

Holiday is a brilliant film in every way.  It is enjoyable, but will also make you think.  If you’ve never seen it, buy it.  It’s now available as part of The Cary Grant Box Set.

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The Missing Guest (1938)

Jun 181938
 
one reel

Fast-talking reporter ‘Scoop’ Hanlon (Paul Kelly) is stuck doing an advice column, so is willing to accept any story to get him back in the big leagues, and the one his editor offers is on the haunted Blue Room of a nearby estate, where people have died in the past. There is a party at the estate to mark the reopening of the room, and a reporter will not be welcome, so he’ll have to sneak in. When Scoop is temporarily out of the way, Frank Baldrich (Selmer Jackson), his niece Stephanie Kirkland (Constance Moore), Dr. Carroll (Edwin Stanley), and overly-eager Larry Dearden (William Lundigan) discuss the dark history of the room. Larry announces his plans to sleep there that night to show there’s nothing to be scared of, and suggests that others do the same on the next few night. Naturally this leads to disappearances and deaths, and the return of Scoop, as well as a pair of ex-cons posing as police.

This is the third version of the Blue Room story, and second from Universal (the previous being 1933’s Secret of the Blue Room), and they’d do it again in 1944 as Murder in the Blue Room. The general opinion is that this is the weakest version, and I agree, at least with regard to the English language versions (without subtitles the German version was a bit difficult for me to follow).

This one has the least distinguished and distinguishable cast and unexciting cinematography, but most of the horror stuff is passable. However, The Missing Guest adds in comedy elements in the form of the cocky lead, two wacky sidekicks, and some newspaper office silliness, and none of it is funny. Scoop is an obnoxious character of a type that popped up in a lot of films of the ‘30s. He’s fast-talking, rude, pushy, reckless, sarcastic and willing to do anything to get the story. He fails both as an engaging or exciting lead and as a comedy protagonist. The fake police are worse, shaking and squealing in terror, and spewing dialog that belongs in a children’s picture. From a marketing standpoint I see why they wanted to retool the story into more of a comedy as straightforward Dark House Movies seemed to have run their course, but they put no effort into the change. There’s no wit, and no effort to make the jokes fit into a horror movie. They’re just loud. And all that goofing about kills the tension the story needs.

If this was the only version, I might give it a tepid recommendation for the thriller aspects, but as you can watch the Secret of the Blue Room instead, there’s no reason to bother with this.

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The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Feb 131938
 
five reels

I can’t decide what hits me hardest when I watch The Adventures of Robin Hood, the beauty of the film or the sheer joy in it.  This is the film where everybody got it right.

Let me start with the colors.  Technicolor was new to film in 1938 and for this one film, it was spectacular. Crisp, bright, and dazzling, it wasn’t quite real, but how reality should be. You go to an art museum to see paintings that don’t match the world, yet have a greater connection to it  than any exact replica—the same goes for the colors in The Adventures of Robin Hood. The forest is radiant, every leaf gleaming.  Castle walls sparkle.  Costumes glow. It amazes me that after 66 years, no one  has managed to capture that look again.

To accompany the luminous visuals, Erich Wolfgang Korngold wrote a score that stands on its own as symphonic art while managing to merge into the film.  The merry men would never have been so merry without Korngold’s lighthearted march.  The romance between Robin and Marian, given its brief screen-time, would have lacked emotional depth without Korngold’s idyllic  melody. This is one of the great film scores, topped, if at all, only by another Korngold composition.

The story is less complicated than the art direction, but that isn’t a flaw.  It’s iconic.  The basic tale, in one form or another, has been with humanity since we started telling stories around blazing fires.  There is the great hero who doesn’t follow rules, the beautiful maiden to inspire him, friends to stand with him through all things, and the evil that must be defeated.  And this version is told with humor, rapid pacing, and exciting swordfights.

Errol Flynn plays the iconic hero, and is one of the reasons why a film like this could never be made now.  Flynn is often underrated because he didn’t play in dry, slice-of-life dramas that people like to pretend are important.  Any number of actors can slide into those roles but no one could replace Flynn.  He wore green tights and a little hat, swung from trees, tossed his head back for bellowing laughs, and made grand speeches, and did it all without looking silly or effeminate.  Anyone who can wear that costume and come off as tough has talent.  I can’t watch an Errol Flynn film without liking him, and he puts all his charm and masculinity into Robin Hood.  The Adventures of Robin Hood, is fun from beginning to end, and much of that comes from Flynn.  It isn’t that it looks like Flynn is having a good time, but rather that Robin is having a good time, and that is vital to the movie.

Flynn was backed by a near perfect supporting cast, all of whom were able to let the audience know their character in seconds.  With an inflection from Rathbone, we know the vicious nature of Sir Guy.  A smile from Rains reveals the megalomania of Prince John where a similar smile from Hale exposes Little John’s rugged but amiable nature.  In just over an hour and a half, we know eleven characters well; that’s quite a feat since for most films, we’re lucky to get to know two or three.  Granted, they only have a few levels of depth, but they are more than cardboard cutouts, and they are believable in their relative simplicity.  Olivia de Havilland is the only one whose portrayal feels forced, but it is sufficient.

Virtuoso director Michael Curtiz pulls all the pieces together.  He knew exactly how long to stay with a scene, or a line, to raise the tension or get a laugh.  The Adventures of Robin Hood contains his signature swordfight, with the shadows fencing behind Flynn and Rathbone.  The scene has been copied many times,  even by Curtiz, and much later by George Lucus, but this was the original.  The Adventures of Robin Hood is not a perfect picture, but it is close.  A day-for-night scene looks like day, an exterior castle shot is obviously an interior set, and the over cranking of the camera for several fight scenes is dated, but any flaws are minor ones.

If you feel the need for a meaningful theme in your films, one can certainly be found.  The Adventures of Robin Hood presents a way of life, and does it better than any other film. It suggests that to have a good life, you need to do the right thing, the ethical thing, but not in some holy, righteous manor.  Happiness can be found in right action, mixed with wild behavior, a certain amount of anarchy, and a strong questioning of any authority.  Robin rarely makes the best choice on how to help others, rather he makes the fun choice.  And that allows him, or anyone, to keep helping, which is far more important than doing it all properly once.  That’s worthy of Buddha.

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Song at Midnight (1937)

Oct 271937
 
two reels

An acting troop, including young lead Sun Xiaoou (Chau-Shui Yee) and his girlfriend Liu Die (Xu Manli), arrives at a dilapidated theater, and are greeted by only Zheng (Wang Weilyi), the guardian of the theater and a hunchback with a monstrous appearance, that no one ever mentions. They set to work on a new opera, but Sun has problems performing his song. He is helped by a mysterious voice that sings his part, which turns out to belong to Song Danping (Shan Jin), a star who supposedly died ten years ago. With the show a big success, Sun seeks out Song, who lives in the attic. Song then tells him of his life. He was a revolutionary, fighting the good fight for the people and to join the country together. But after three years he became disheartened and stopped fighting to join a theater company, where his incredible mastery of music took him quickly to the top. He was always afraid that his revolutionary activities would get him in trouble, but it turned out that old fashioned jealousy was his downfall. Song and a local rich girl Li Xiaoxia (Ping Hu) became lovers, but local tough Tung (Gu Menghe) wanted Li for himself, so he told her father that Song was a lowlife. Her father was an old fashioned elitist, who had connections with local warlords. He had Song whipped, but when this didn’t make Li fall for Tung (yes, Tung seemed to think that this would win her over
 He’s not a bright guy) he threw nitric acid on Song, disfiguring his face and hands. Horrified by his appearance, he faked his death, which drove Li insane. She has stayed in her room all these years in a fugue state, and Song would sing to her at night to comfort her broken mind. But now, Song has a plan to save her, while Sun has his own plan, and neither of them realize that Tung is still around and owns the theater.

The Chinese critics in ’37 found this too Western of a film, which makes it easier for me to review, as it means I’m less likely to be missing some cultural differences in how we see film. Though perhaps they would find any horror too Western and this was China’s first horror film, inspired by The Phantom of the Opera, with a touch of Frankenstein thrown in at the end.

It is at times beautiful. Li walking between the columns as Sun sings is a mystical and romantic image. But as a whole it doesn’t work. The editing is a major problem, with many scenes running too long. Others not long enough. There are pauses when there shouldn’t be, and then jumps. The flashback goes on and on, both taking up too much time and moving  too slowly. The music is another flaw. Not the diegetic music. Song or Sun singing is always good, though a few pieces could be shortened. It’s the nondiegetic music. Cues from various Western symphonic music are roughly edited in, starting and stopping mid note, including Night on Bald Mountain and Rhapsody in Blue. To say they don’t fit would be an understatement.

I can’t blame writer/director Weibang Ma-Xu for the political content, much as I’d like to. In order to get the film past the censors, he had to add a theme of patriotic revolution, which included the struggle of the masses and for all Chinese to come together to fight off outsiders. It’s very odd when in the middle of a romantic scene, Song or Sun suddenly blurt out about the “struggle” and how we must always fight. Dude, she just wants you to hold her.

But the problem is larger. Song at Midnight is shot in the language and style of a silent film. Movements are too broad for something not further removed from reality. scenes are structured to tell the story visually, without dialog, and then we get a lot of dialog. You could cut 90% of the lines, and put the rest of intertitles, and you’d have a fine silent film. You’d want keep the diegetic songs, but that’s it. Not only could that have been done, it should have been. As is we get endless conversations, which tell us little to nothing, are performed poorly, and kill the pacing. Song at Midnight is worth seeing as an important moment in Chinese cinema, but not for its quality.

 Artists, Asian, Classic Horror, Foreign Language, Horror, Reviews Tagged with:

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

Sep 241937
 
five reels

I’ve always thought of the The Prisoner of Zenda as a “smart” Swashbuckler, and it is, in dialog, character, and structure, if not in story.  The action is first rate, but secondary to the film, for in this case, it is all about words—superbly crafted words—and the voices that pronounce them.  While fun to watch, the true joy of this film comes from listening.  Ronald Colman’s voice is nearly an institution and he never sounded better.  Add in the voices of Douglas Fairbanks Jr., C. Aubrey Smith, Raymond Massey, and David Niven, and the images become almost unnecessary.

The story has been redone many times (has there been a sitcom that didn’t have an episode where a character found he was the double of a noble?), but there is no feeling of clichĂ© here.  Englishman Rassendyll (Colman) arrives in a small English-speaking, Germanic country the day before the coronation of his look-a-like cousin (also played by Colman).  When the king is drugged, Rassendyll is persuaded by loyal Col. Zapt (played with gruff lovability by Smith) and valiant Capt. von Tarlenheim (Niven, in a supporting role that moved him from bit player to star) to take the place of the king for a day.  When the “play-actor” king appears, Rupert of Hentzau (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) kidnaps the real, unconscious king for Black Michael, the king’s illegitimate half brother (Raymond Massey).  It’s up to Rassendyll to rescue the king and keep it a secret that he was ever captured.

Massey was, for many years, remembered for his portrayal of Lincoln, but it is his sinners that will leave a permanent mark on the history of film.  He had already portrayed the zealot, Citizen Chauvelin, in The Scarlet Pimpernel, infusing him with such righteous malevolence that I found myself hating this fictitious character.  Seven years later, he would bring humor to the murderer, Jonathan Brewster, in Arsenic and Old Lace.  But Michael was his best creation.  With relatively little screen time, Massey  makes a multilayered, sympathetic, monster.  Michael is flawed, but I understand him, particularly as it is likely he would have made a better king than his drunken brother.

Even with Massy and Colman putting in the best performances of their carriers, it is Fairbanks that steals the film.  Hentzau is suave, witty, and playful.  He jokes as he kills.  He’s more than happy to run from a fight, but not because he is a coward; he simply sees no reason to stick around.  Fairbanks has the charm and sex appeal to pull off the role, and in their climatic battle, it is sometimes hard to root against him.

Both the scenes with the heroes planning their intrigues and those with the villains plotting their treacheries are well paced, crisp, and fun, but The Prisoner of Zenda becomes one of the finestSwashbucklers when Rassendyll and Hentzau confront each other.  It is a contrivance of the genre that swordfights contain breaks for banter, and hereThe Prisoner of Zenda is only rivaled by The Princess Bride.

There is also a romance, between the false king and the soon to be queen, Princess Flavia.  It is perfectly done, though not what makes the film memorable.

A few things don’t play out so smartly

With so much clever going on, it is best not to think about the story.  Rassendyll just happens to show up in the country at the needed moment for a fishing trip?  The king just happens to run across him in the woods (I know it’s a small country, but not that small).  That’s a bit too coincidental.  Even better to ignore that this is a dictatorial little country where a few feudal lords have the power of life and death over a repressed populous.  Is it a country worth saving?  Would it be any worse if our heroes lost?  Ah, but this is a fairytale land, where having a princess in a really nice dress is all the politics that is necessary.  Besides, all that is just window dressing to a tale of heroism and loyalty.  A different kind of flaw comes from the ages of the main characters.  Madeleine Carroll is about ten years too old to have been transformed from a young girl into a beautiful woman in the last three years as the dialog suggests.  And Coleman is about the same amount too old to be a young king just being crowned.  Apparently, ages where taken from the book, and not altered to fit the actors.  It’s a little thing, but they really should have known better.

The few flaws take little away from this engaging work.

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Sh! The Octopus (1937)

Sep 091937
 
two reels

Police detectives Kelly (Hugh Herbert) and Dempsey (Allen Jenkins) were fixing a flat tire in a rainstorm when they were interrupted by Vesta (Marcia Ralston), a hysterical woman in distress, who reports that her stepfather has been killed in a lighthouse. They race to the spot to find it occupied by an artist (John Eldredge), who’s just bought it from the government. The lighthouse quickly fills with an array of odd characters, including deranged Captain Hook (George Rosener), relatively stable Captain Cobb (Brandon Tynan), completely dry shipwreck victim Polly (Margaret Irving), and Vesta’s Nanny (Elspeth Dudgeon). The lighthouse may also be the headquarters for The Octopus, a nefarious criminal, as well as under attack from an actual, giant octopus. The two detectives must deal with a fake corpse, poison gas, a submarine, ominous proclamations from an bodiless voice, glowing eyes, a hag, a death ray, and no one ever telling them the truth, that’s assuming there is something called the truth..

If you can have an Old Dark House film, why not an Old Dark Lighthouse film?

It amazes me how many of these ‘30s mystery horror films were stage plays first. That amazement is magnified in this case. The play, Sh, The Octopus, ran for 2 months in New York in 1928, and was a parody not of first generation Old Dark House mystery plays, but of the parodies of those plays. So we’ve got a parody of a parody. Credit is also given to the author of the play, The Gorilla, though any direct connection to that play seems to have vanished in rewrites. The Gorilla made its own way into film three time, first in 1927, then in 1930 (now lost), and finally in 1939. I have no doubt that Sh, The Octopus was an odd play as Sh! The Octopus is an odd movie.

Hugh Herbert and Allen Jenkins play pretty much the same characters they were known for in all their pictures, with Herbert making strange “whooping” sounds at the end of his sentences and Jenkins being eternally frustrated. I’m not a fan of Herbert’s—too vaudeville for me, which makes sense as that’s where he came from—but have frequently enjoyed Jenkins in third banana roles. Here they are all comedy, and their jokes doesn’t work for me. Mistaking being told to look for a painter’s palette for being told to look at the roof of a guy’s mouth is the height of their comedy.

However, the rest of it works for me (almost
). Everyone else is in some kind of absurdist philosophical work, or are just confused. The result is less of a narrative, and more what I’d expect from an improv troop. Characters switch personalities almost as often as identities. Few setups have payoffs and most comments lead nowhere. Things just happen. Why are there glowing eyes? What’s the submarine doing? Why was a body hung from the roof? Why does everyone have matching wallets? Nothing matters and nothing makes sense, and it is kind of refreshing, perhaps because at under an hour it doesn’t give you time to become frustrated.

There’s an attempt at an explanation, and it’s horrible, going to the cheapest trick in storytelling, and it doesn’t even work since it doesn’t explain the scene before we meet our two leads. I suggest you turn off the movie two minutes before the end (you’ll know when) and just bask in the ridiculousness of life.

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The Prince and the Pauper (1937)

Aug 111937
 
two reels

Edward (half of the Mauch Twins), Prince of England, encounters Tom Canty (the other half of the Mauch Twins), a look-a-like begger child, and the two switch places a short time before the king dies. The Earl of Hertford (Claude Rains), discovering the truth, plans to control Tom as king, and have Edward assassinated. But Edward meets Miles Hendon (Errol Flynn), a charming soldier, who protects him.

Mark Twain’s book is far in the rear-view-mirror of my life. I vaguely remember it to be aimed at a younger audience, and yet, to contain a touch of satire. The film version strips away any satire, and lowers the age range of the intended audience. This is a kids film, much to its detriment. The twin child actors are annoying, partly due to them being forced to act younger and stupider than their age and position should dictate. And as this is a kid’s film, each, though mainly Edward, must learn a very simple lesson. They are surrounded by gruff, and often overly sincere actors who are nearly as painful to watch. Claude Rains and Alan Hale, as the Captain of the guard and potential assassin) manage well enough with what they are given, though neither is at his peek.

That leaves Flynn, and he’s the saving grace of the whole mess. He is charming and flamboyant, as was his norm in the later half of the ‘30s. He is also the only thing that makes this a Swashbuckler. All the swordplay is his, and it isn’t anything special, but it is still Flynn with a rapier which makes it better than most cinematic duels. Flynn is given top billing after his success in Captain Blood. Based on screen time, it is undeserved. He doesn’t appear till half way though the film and is in and out of the rest of the film. But if we go by reasons to watch The Prince and the Pauper, his name was right where it needed to be.

Errol Flynn’s Swashbucklers/pseudo-Swashbucklers are: Captain Blood (1935), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), The Sea Hawk (1940), Adventures of Don Juan (1948), Against All Flags (1951), Adventures of Captain Fabian (1951), The Master of Ballantrae (1953), and Crossed Swords (1954), The Dark Avenger/The Warriors (1955).

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Fire Over England (1937)

Jun 241937
 
2.5 reels

In a time of conflict between Queen Elizabeth I of England (Flora Robson) and King Philip II of Spain (Raymond Massey), an English privateer ship is captured, resulting in young Michael Ingolby (Laurence Olivier) recovering in secret with a Spanish friend of his father’s and that man’s daughter Elena (Tamara Desni). He returns to England, and his fiancĂ©e Cynthia (Vivien Leigh), where his outspoken nature and good looks gets the Queen’s attention. When the traitor Hillary Vane (James Mason) is discovered, Ingolby is sent to Spain in his place, to spy, and again runs into Elena, now married to Don Pedro (Robert Newton).

It’s hard not to take this as a first run at making The Sea Hawk. It has essentially the same plot, the same concern with historical accuracy (i.e. none), the same actress playing Queen Elizabeth, and perhaps most importantly, the same theme. Spain is a stand-in for Germany and the Inquisition fills in for Nazi philosophy. It’s a propaganda film for a war that was forming, while The Sea Hawk was one for a war that was in full bloom. There’s a great deal of talk of the freedom of England compared to the tyranny of Spain. (Free England
 Under a dictator
 Huh.)

In place of Errol Flynn we have Olivier, who is handsome, but lacks Flynn’s dynamism. He never manages to make his too-loud youth likable as Flynn did with Geoffrey Thorpe. His Ingolby and Leigh’s Cynthia come off as obnoxious brats. Sometimes being pretty isn’t enough.

Fire Over England also lacks the fast movement, witty dialog, and combat, making this a costume drama, not a Swashbuckler. But it is filmed beautifully for its budget, there’s a bit of action, and the characters get much more interesting in the second half. The acting power (and best dialog) is not with the leads, but with the supporting actors, particularly Robson and Massey. Ninety minutes of the two of them chatting would have made for a superior film. But this film isn’t bad and all of the acting is passable, even if Olivier himself had his doubts.

Fire Over England is most famous for giving Vivien Leigh her shot at Gone With the Wind, and for the romance behind the scenes between her and Olivier.

I’d give it an extra half star if The Sea Hawk didn’t exist, but as it does, Fire Over England comes off as a demo by a talented artist and I’d rather hear the coming classic.

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