Tyrone Power Blogathon: Son of Fury

This entry is happily part of the Power-Mad blogathon to celebrate the 100^th anniversary of the birth of one of Hollywood's most enduring stars, Tyrone Power. Other entries can be found here: http://eves-reel-life.blogspot.com/2014/03/celebrating-tyrone-powers-100th-birthday.html.

For me, SON OF FURY (1942) is a prime representation of Golden Age Hollywood. Impossibly beautiful leading men and ladies, luminous cinematography, a haunting music score, studio craftsmanship able to convincingly recreate 19^th century London, an English country manor house and a South Seas island paradise on the Fox back lot, and a seemingly never-ending cavalcade of unforgettable character actors.

SON OF FURY is a perfect vehicle for star Tyrone Power. Twentieth Century Fox studio head Darryl F. Zanuck was always on the look out for suitable stories for his top male box office attraction, and while Power may have blanched at some of these roles, Zanuck knew his audience and what to give them – and he did, in some of the best adventure films ever made.

Tyrone Power had that rare talent to wear period clothing and making it look completely natural. He inhabited those costumes like 007 wearing a tuxedo. And his beautiful speaking voice with clear diction made him an ideal fit for these roles.

Based on the 1941 best-selling novel “Benjamin Blake” by Edison Marshall, SON OF FURY tells the story of young Benjamin Blake (Roddy McDowall), the illegitimate son of an English landowner who is brought up by his grandfather (Harry Davenport). His estate has been stolen from him by his uncle Sir Arthur Blake (George Sanders).

Blake works at the estate as a stable boy where he grows up to become Tyrone Power, falling in love with his cousin Isabel (Frances Farmer) and tormented on a regular basis by his cruel uncle. Finding Ben and Isabel together, Arthur whips Ben unmercifully. (Power seemed to get beat up or tortured by quite a bit in his adventure films, such as here and in THE BLACK SWAN the same year).

With the help of kindly tavern keeper (Elsa Lanchester), Ben flees England and stows away on a ship headed to the South Seas. Upon discovery he is beaten up some more by the captain, but allowed to work his way for his passage. He befriends Caleb Green (John Carradine) who tells him of an island whose sea beds are loaded with pearls.

Ben and Caleb jump ship at the island, where they find a fortune in pearls. Ben falls in love with one of the girls on the island who he names Eve (Gene Tierney). After an idyllic time spent on the island, Ben returns to England, where he enlists the aid of London's sliest lawyer Bartholomew Pratt (Dudley Digges) to reclaim his birthright and extract revenge on his uncle, not only in court but in a well-staged bout of fisticuffs.

While Marshall set his novel in the 1770s and early 1780s, Zanuck was having none of that. A July 1, 1941 memo from script coordinator Dorothy Hechtlinger wrote: “Mr. Zanuck is against using any kind of wigs in the motion picture. For this reason, we will change the period of the story proper to 1810, the period of LLOYD'S OF LONDON (Power's first starring role in 1936), which is a very good period. The prologue would take place around 1795.”

Not only was the novel's setting changed, but so was the title. Though “Benjamin Blake” had been a best seller, Zanuck wanted a punchier title. Zanuck liked one of the suggested titles, SON OF FURY, enough to keep it. Other titles considered were HE WHO CAME BACK and SON OF THE STORM. But “The Story of Benjamin Blake” was retained as a subtitle on the film's promotional materials and on the film's title card, to help rein in the book's many readers.

Though Power was always set for the lead, some of the initial casting ideas for the other roles are very interesting. Laird Cregar was penciled in for Sir Arthur and Ida Lupino as Isabel. Though Lupino was under contract to Warners at the time, she still owed Fox a picture in a contract dating back to her role in THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES (1939). Instead, Fox cast her opposite Jean Gabin MOONTIDE (1942). Maureen O'Hara was then slated until she was felled by appendicitis which required surgery and recuperation. Next up was Fox contract player Cobina Wright Jr., until a serious throat infection caused her to drop out. In desperation, Fox borrowed from Paramount the troubled but very talented Frances Farmer, in what proved to be her penultimate film appearance.

For the role of Eve, Ben's South Seas love interest, Zanuck suggested “If we don't use a real native girl, Gene Tierney.” We now know Tierney from such roles as LAURA (1944) and LEAVE HER TO HEAVEN (1946), but at this point in her career being cast as a South Seas maiden likely didn't seem so odd. She had been already cast as an Arab in SUNDOWN (1941), and Asians in THE SHANGHAI GESTURE (1941) and CHINA GIRL (1942). She makes a most fetching Eve, especially when so lovingly photographed by ace cinematographer Arthur Miller on those moonbeam-drenched beaches. If Tierney in a sarong was enough to bring in the men, the ladies got Tyrone Power spending most of his South Seas scenes in his bathing trunks. Something for everyone.

It's easy today to be critical about Gene Tierney cast as an island maiden, but context is everything. As socially conscious as he could be (and Zanuck was the most socially conscious of all the studio heads), there was no way Zanuck the businessman wasn't going to showcase his newest exotic-looking contract player and potential star opposite the studio's biggest leading man in what was sure to be one of the year's smash hits.

Because he was a former screenwriter Zanuck had an unusually acute sense of story structure. He was critical of screenwriter Philip Dunne's initial drafts, telling him in a memo:

“You have Blake running away from social injustice so he can come back some day and cure the horrible conditions. We don't want to tell that kind of a story. We don't want this to be a social document. It must be a personal story – the story of a bastard who has the moral right to an estate using his wits against another man who has the legal right. It must be told with gusto – swashbuckling. It is a Monte Cristo setup and should be treated as such.”

Novelist Marshall seemed somewhat ambivalent about the final film and its many changes from the book, saying at the time of the film's release, “I wrote a book to be read; Fox has made a picture to be seen, and I think they complement each other nicely.” (I don't know what he thought of the adaptation of his 1951 book “The Viking” which was made into “The Vikings” (1958) with Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis. Hardly anything of Marshall's book is found in the movie.)

The film is loaded to the brim with great character actors. It's one of John Carradine's most appealing characterizations – it's such a pleasure to see him play a good guy for a change. Dudley Digges steals every scene he's in as the wily lawyer, and Elsa Lanchester delivers one of her loveliest and most understated performances here. No eccentricities, just a decent woman trying to do the right thing.

George Sanders delivers his usual venom-dripped performance. One senses Sir Arthur enjoys every aspect of stealing his nephew's inheritance, and even when it looks like all is finished he's still trying to finagle matters to his advantage. Any movie is better with George Sanders in it. His wife is played by Kay Johnson, wife of director John Cromwell and mother to actor James Cromwell.

Cromwell does a splendid job here. I've always thought he was a most unheralded director, based on his beyond marvelous THE PRISONER OF ZENDA (1937) and that small jewel of a movie THE ENCHANTED COTTAGE (1945). While not as good as those two masterpieces, SON OF FURY impresses with its sweep and lack of padding. There's a lot of story told in 98 minutes.

The film is also helped immeasurably by Alfred Newman's musical score. The film's major love theme – and its a beauty – had lyrics added to it by Mack Gordon and titled “Blue Tahitian Moon.” It achieved a modicum of success via recordings by Kenny Baker and Frances Langford, but without the smash success of Newman's haunting “The Moon of Manakoora” from John Ford's South Seas epic THE HURRICANE (1937). (While most famously used in the Ford film, that melody was originally composed for MR. ROBINSON CRUSOE (1932) starring Douglas Fairbanks.)

SON OF FURY was successful enough to warrant a remake, TREASURE OF THE GOLDEN CONDOR (1953), with Cornel Wilde, George Macready, Anne Bancroft and Constance Smith in, respectively, the Tyrone Power, George Sanders, Frances Framer and Gene Tierney roles. Filmed in Technicolor and moved to Guatemala, it's not a bad little film (the Sol Kaplan score is first-rate, one of his finest), but can't compare with SON OF FURY. The Power film remains as watchable today as it did when it was first made.

I know Power wished for more challenging roles from Zanuck, but he did exceptional work in the swashbuckling/adventure film genres. I've always felt he gave an Academy Award nomination-worthy performance in THE MARK OF ZORRO (1940) – it's probably my second favorite performance after his very atypical role in the classic NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947). But Power, like Errol Flynn and to a lesser extent Stewart Granger, had the unheralded talent to look at home in other eras. It's much harder than it looks (ever see Brad Pitt in TROY(2004)? I think he's a terrific actor, but he was so out of place there).

It's a tragedy that Power died so young. It would have been nice to see him make it to the nostalgic boom of the 1970s, become a respected character actor, and look at his past films and say, “Boy, those were some pretty entertaining films after all. Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Happy 100^th Birthday to one of the great ones, an actor whose performances have given and continue to give enormous pleasure over the decades.

(Background information on SON OF FURY came courtesy booklet notes from the SON OF FURY soundtrack CD, a Screen Archives Entertainment Production.)

State Fair (1945)

 

I’ve never attended a state fair, but I wouldn’t mind going to one, especially after watching “State Fair” (1945), which a friend of mine, a veteran of many state fairs, says is pretty accurate. Minus the singing of course.

What he was referring to was the hog contests, the food competitions, horseracing, carnival rides and shady barkers.

Plus the food. In “State Fair” there’s a close-up of a hamburger in Technicolor that I think even PETA would find mouth-watering.

”State Fair” is probably best known today as Rodgers and Hammerstein’s only original Hollywood musical. The team had scored a massive hit in the theater with “Oklahoma” and when 20^th Century Fox elected to remake “State Fair”, originally filmed in 1933 with Will Rogers and Janet Gaynor, it was decided to hire the famed songwriting team to write songs for this wonderful piece of Americana. (I’ve never seen the 1933 version, but would love to. I have seen the 1962 remake with Alice Faye and wish I could unsee it).

Anyone with an ounce of cynicism would do well to stay away from “State Fair.” But for me, it’s a real treat, with a clever screenplay that gives each member of the Frake family, and several supporting characters, a chance to each enjoy a big scene, either in song, comedy or drama.

 

The Frake family – Father Abel (Charles Winninger), Mother Melissa (Fay Bainter), Daughter Margy (Jeanne Crain) and Son Wayne (Dick Haymes) prepare to go to the Iowa state fair. Abel is anxious to enter his prize hog Blue Boy, while Melissa anxiously enters her pickles and mincemeat in the food competition. Daughter Margy is as “restless as a wind storm and as jumpy as a puppet on a string” and son Wayne is despondent his girlfriend won’t be going with him to the fair.

 

The film helped make Jeanne Crain a star. No wonder, what with those very generous close-ups of her singing. While her voice was dubbed, she does a very good job of acting the songs, especially the song that introduces her and her indecisive character “It Might As Well Be Spring.” Jeanne Crain was very popular with audiences and could have made more movies if she wasn’t always getting pregnant, to the everlasting dismay of Fox studio head Darryl F. Zanuck.

(Later on during this segment, she imagines the voices of Charles Boyer, Ronald Colman and Bing Crosby wooing her. I’ve always wondered if those were the actual voices or done by impersonators. Does anybody know? They sound like the real thing to me.)

Margy falls in love with reporter Pat Gilbert (Dana Andrews), covering the fair for the Des Moines paper. Andrews is very charming in the role even if it is fairly one dimensional.

I’ve always liked Dana Andrews and like him more after watching the DVD’s special features. Apparently he had a very good singing voice but the studio didn’t know that. He learned that his singing would be dubbed, and because he didn’t want the guy doing his dubbing to be out of a job, he kept silent and never told his Fox bosses about his musical talent.

Admittedly, Dana Andrews doesn’t get a “big” scene, but everyone else does. Wayne falls in love with singer Emily Edwards (Vivian Blaine) and they share a charming duet together, “Isn’t It Kind of Fun” but is heartbroken when he learns a secret about her. Abel gets his scene when he enters Blue Boy in the blue ribbon contest, and Melissa sweats out her pickles and mincemeat competition.

 

This could be my favorite scene in the movie because one of the judges is Mr. Hippenstahl, played by the great Donald Meek, who steals the show from everyone. Melissa is unaware that Abel has spiked the mincemeat with copious amounts of brandy. She adds her own dose of brandy as well and the expression on Mr. Hippenstahl when he tastes the well-laced mincemeat is classic. He keeps digging into the mincemeat with unconcealed glee.

Harry Morgan also enjoys a memorable scene as a crooked carny worker who gets outed by a revenge-seeking Wayne, who got rooked the year before. Morgan’s slow-burn as he realizes the tables are turning on him make this one of my favorite scenes of his in a long and distinguished career.

In addition to the splendid Technicolor photography, I’ve always enjoyed the treatment the music gets. When Alfred Newman is music director on a show, one is in for a treat. Just listen to those yearning, shimmering strings in the “It Might As Well Be Spring” number. It’s a perfect accompaniment to a song that introduces Margy’s character as well as any amount of dialogue could.

 

The film’s best known song “It’s a Grand Night for Singing” gets a wonderful treatment, starting in the beer garden where Wayne surprises Emily with his crooning, and continues on to the rest of the carnival, including a singing Margy and Pat in a flying carnival ride. It’s a glorious sequence.

The only dance number comes at the end with “All I Owe I Owe Iowa”, a jubilant number with Emily dancing with Abel (Charles Winninger obviously using a few steps he learned in vaudeville). I love Hammerstein’s lyric for this song. He turns Iowa into Io-way to rhyme with Hooray. Great stuff.

Everybody in “Stare Fair” is good and decent. Those that aren’t get put in their place, like Harry Morgan’s barker character and arrogant bandleader Tommy Thomas (William Marshall).

Errol Flynn fans know Marshall as director of two of the legendary star’s most ignoble efforts. “Adventures of Captain Fabian” (1951) for Republic and the never-seen “Hello God” (1951) for which no prints have been known to survive. Marshall also appeared alongside Flynn in “Santa Fe Trail” (1940) as George Pickett. (Even in a blog on “State Fair” I can find a way to mention of the Mighty Flynn.)

Director Walter Lang will never make the auteur books, but looking at his filmography I realized how many of his films are great favorites of mine, including my favorite Betty Grable movies: “Moon Over Miami” (1941), “Coney Island” (1943) and “Mother Wore Tights” (1947). Clifton Webb enjoyed two of his greatest successes with Lang, with “Sitting Pretty” (1948) and “Cheaper by the Dozen” (1950). Lang also directed my favorite Rodgers and Hammerstein adaptation, “The King and I” (1956). In a lot of these movies, scenes of sadness or unhappiness are acknowledged as part of life, but not something to be lingered over.

I’ve seen “State Fair” several times and each time my fondness for it grows. The music is great, the photography impeccable, I like everyone in the cast, those Jeanne Crain close-ups are marvelous to behold and the ending sends everyone out happy. There’s a feeling of good cheer that permeates the movie from beginning to end.

I can’t wait to watch it again.

The Mary Astor Blogathon: The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

 

“Toward the close of the last century, when History still wore a Rose, and Politics had not yet outgrown the waltz, a great Royal Scandal was whispered about in the Anterooms of Europe. However true it was, any resemblance in ‘The Prisoner of Zenda’ to Heroes, Villains, Heroines, living or dead, is coincidence not intended.”

Thus begins “The Prisoner of Zenda” (1937), one of the genuine jewels from Hollywood’s Golden Age, a marvelous entertainment on every level and one of the greatest romantic swashbucklers ever made. It offers several career-best performances, luscious black and white photography, wonderful costumes, a glorious Alfred Newman score and a truly literate and witty screenplay. “The Prisoner of Zenda” is one of those happy instances where all the right people were in the right place at the right time. Above all, it could be one of the most perfectly cast movies ever.

Some movies take a bit to warm up to. With others, it’s apparent from the very start that something magical is about to take place. “The Prisoner of Zenda” is the latter. With its scene of a row of immaculately dressed trumpeters shown onscreen playing a thrilling Alfred Newman fanfare, and an honor roll of a cast – Ronald Colman, Madeleine Carroll, C. Aubrey Smith, Raymond Massey, Mary Astor, David Niven and Douglas Fairbanks Jr., all appearing in a story “From the celebrated novel by Anthony Hope” I was hooked.

And when that aforementioned title card comes up right after the credits, one is ready to sit back and enjoy.

“The Prisoner of Zenda” tells the oft-filmed story of Rudolf Rassendyll, an Englishman on a fishing vacation in the mythical Central European kingdom of Ruritania. He’s an identical double for the king (and distant cousin) Rudolph V, about to be crowned the next day. When the fast-living king is drugged on the eve of his coronation, Rassendyll agrees to take his place at the coronation until the king can be revived. Immediate suspects to the drugging are the king’s power hungry half brother Michael (Raymond Massey) and his henchman Rupert of Hentzau (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., in the performance of his career).

Rassendyll falls in love with the king’s betrothed Princess Flavia (Madeleine Carroll), and she with him. She can’t get over the change to the man she formerly despised. When the king is kidnapped, Rassendyll continues the charade until the king can be found and restored to the throne.

 

So where does Mary Astor fit into all of this? She plays Antoinette de Mauban, the mistress of Michael. Hers is probably the most nuanced, and adult, portrayal in the movie. This is not meant as a slight to the other cast members. Everyone is at the top of their game. But Antoinette’s character centers the movie with real emotion. She genuinely loves Michael and thinks he is in love with her. But Rupert knows everyone’s Achilles Heel and he zeroes in on hers, which is Michael.

Rupert taunts her, telling her that as king, Michael will have to marry Flavia. If she thinks Michael will renounce Flavia and marry his mistress, does she have a surprise in store for her. Astor reacts marvelously in these scenes. One can almost see the yearning, hope and crushing realization crossing her face all at the same time.

She’s probably the most adult character in the film, giving the film an edge that plays against, but well, with the story’s more swashbuckling fantasy element. It’s not a large role, but it is a key one.

“The Prisoner of Zenda” offers my favorite Ronald Colman performance. 1937 was a great year for Colman with this and his other signature role in “Lost Horizon.” But the essence of Colman’s popularity is here. The beautiful speaking voice, the courtly manners, the wit and the style are all there. He’s fairly mature for a swashbuckling hero, but no one can charm like Ronald Colman. And that voice! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If there’s such a thing as reincarnation, I want to come back as Ronald Colman’s speaking voice.

 

I love his expression when he’s listening to Rupert’s plans to do away with everyone else and only leave the two of them standing. Rupert calls Rassendyll “the play actor” and tells him “You and I are the only ones worth saving” out of the whole mess. Rassendyll is as amused by Rupert’s plotting as Rupert is in hatching it.

The other great performance is Douglas Fairbanks Jr.’s Rupert. It’s a joy to see him in every scene. Despite committing several murders on-screen and  ready to break a promise to not kill Rassendyll (as he holds a gun in his hand), he’s the most charming rogue and villain in swashbuckling movie history. The man gleefully grins from ear to ear at his own nefarious plots. He actually gets away at the end, and I for one am ready to cheer when he does so. I never felt that way about Basil Rathbone, George Sanders or George Macready in their costume villainous portrayals. Bur Fairbanks trumps all of them.  

(And for the life I can’t figure out how this got past the Hays Office. Censorship mores at the time demanded the villain be properly punished for his deeds at the end, but here Rupert gets off scot-free. Methinks he charmed the censors as much as he charms the audience. Author Hope did write a sequel called “Rupert of Hentzau” but when did a little thing like that ever affect the Hays Office.)

Fairbanks was initially reluctant to take on the role, due to its supporting nature. His famous father told him to can it, Rupert was the best role in the story and he would be a fool to forsake it. He thankfully took his dad’s advice. One does regret he didn’t do more roles like this. He should have received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor and he should have won that year.

James Wong Howe’s photography can’t be beat. The film boasts one of the most famous pull backs in movie history, as the Rassendyll and Princess Flavia make their first appearance at the coronation ball. The shot stars in on a close up and then pulls back the length of the ballroom as the two descend down the stairs and past a long row of bowing subjects.

 

The later castle dungeon scenes are marvelously evocative, with lighting from nearby a fireplace and flickering candles highlighting the final action as Rasendyll sneaks into the castle to save the king before he can be killed. The black and white contrast scenes are marvelous to behold and some of the scenes are gorgeous enough to frame. If Ansel Adams ever decided to photograph swashbuckling action in a castle, his scenes would look like something out of “The Prisoner of Zenda.”  

Madeleine Carroll makes just about the loveliest princess imaginable. Not just physical beauty (which Carroll most certainly has), but a warmth and generosity that makes her instantly appealing.

 

The film’s final scene between Flavia and Rassendyll is one of the greatest farewells in movie history and I think it’s every bit as good as the similar scene in “Casablanca.” (1942). After Flavia has been told who Rassendyll really is, she asks to see him. Rassendyll tell her that he has been an imposter in everything but his love for her and he invites her to throw away her cares and duties and follow him to England. She tells him she was born to those cares and duties and that honor binds a woman’s heart too, as much as any man. It’s beautifully played and written, and if “Casablanca” had never been made, I think this scene would win as the ultimate self-sacrifice scene in movie history.

Interestingly, it was a scene that came about amidst much controversy. The film was in production when Edward VIII elected to abdicate the English throne in order to marry the American socialite Wallis Simpson. No honor for Edward, and producer David O. Selznick was worried that this scene in “The Prisoner of Zenda” might be seen as a condemnation towards Edward. There was some talk about changing the ending, but wiser heads prevailed. (Still, one wonders if Edward had been allowed to keep the throne and marry Wallis Simpson, if Selznick would have done the same with Rudolf and Flavia).

Director John Cromwell stresses the film’s romantic aspects over the adventurous ones. Most of the action is confined to the castle raid, and the older Colman is clearly doubled in the long shots during the duel between Rassendyll and Rupert. The dialogue between the two as they parry and thrust is a delight. This is one swashbuckler where the words are more important than the action.

The film’s final goodbye scene between Rudolf, Col. Zapt and Fritz, backed by that glorious Alfred Newman music (with wordless chorus chiming in) and Rudolf riding away in the distance with a tip of his hat, is just about one of the greatest endings ever and never fails to bring a lump to my throat. Just glorious and wonderful in equal measures.

 

When looking at Mary Astor’s credits, I’m always impressed with her participation in several landmarks movies in their particular genres. In addition to Zenda, she graced two of the greatest private eye movies ever, one in the 1930s “The Kennel Murder Case” (1933) and one in the 1940s “The Maltese Falcon” (1941). Drama - her Academy Award-winning role in the splendid woman’s movie “The Great Lie” (1941). Musical – her warm mother portrayal in the immortal “Meet Me in St. Louis” (1944). Comedy - roles in two of the greatest comedies ever made “Midnight” (1939) and in “The Palm Beach Story” (1942) (as the Princess Centimillia!)

“Dodsworth” (1936) is one of the finest literary adaptations ever, and “The Hurricane” (1937) ranks among the top disaster movies of all time, and the historically important “Don Juan” (1926), the first film to feature a synchronized score and sound effects impresses today with its wit, sweep and action.

Admittedly, Mary Astor may not be the first name that comes to mind when one thinks of these films. Undoubtedly though, she is an essential part of the success of these films, and one can’t imagine any of them without her participation.  She remains one of the most underrated figures from Hollywood’s Golden Age and if this Mary Astor blogathon attracts much deserved attention to her career, it will be a grand thing indeed.

 

To read more about this woman and her amazing career visit the Mary Astor blogathon page to see the schedule and what films are being covered.

http://doriantb.blogspot.com/p/astor.html

They Shall Have Music

“They Shall Have Music” (1939) is an odd but endearing mixture of juvenile delinquency drama and classical music. It’s a Samuel Goldwyn production and watching it, one can see the footprints of two 1937 films, his own production of “Dead End” and Universal’s monster hit “100 Men and a Girl.”

“Dead End” had been a huge hit for Goldwyn, and he was eager to replicate its success.  Ever since his big budget musical smorgasbord “The Goldwyn Follies” (1938), Goldwyn had wanted to put the violinist Jascha Heifetz, considered one of the century’s finest musicians, in the movies, but couldn’t find the right project.

I’m just surmising here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Goldwyn examined the grosses of “100 Men and a Girl”, which deals with Deanna Durbin and her ceaseless attempts to have Leopold Stokowski conduct an orchestra of musicians put out of work by the Depression. What could work for Stokowski could easily work for Heifetz.

Put Heifetz in a slum setting with underprivileged youth, include lots of classical music and watch the profits roll in.

Alas, “They Shall Have Music” was roasted by the critics and proved one of Goldwyn’s biggest bombs. It’s schmaltz, to be sure, but the music is wonderful and like so many movies of the era, it moves along and there’s lots of memorable sequences to make this well worth watching.

The film is centered on a music school for slum children, run by Professor Lawson (Walter Brennan) and his daughter Ann (Andrea Leeds, one year before her self-imposed retirement from films). The school is constantly scraping for money, and is continually one step ahead of the creditors, especially Mr. Flowers (Porter Hall, at his most obnoxious).

 

Frankie (Gene Reynolds) is basically a good kid who discovers the power of music when he finds some discarded tickets to a Heifetz concert. Thinking Heifetz is some sort of magician, instead he’s transfixed by the sight and sound of Heifetz performing the “Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso” by Saint-Saens. For those of us who are film music fans, we get the added pleasure of seeing Alfred Newman play the conductor in this piece, and he looks very natty in his white-trousered conductor threads.

 

Frankie finds a violin in his basement and takes lesson at the Lawson’s school. But the school is on the brink of foreclosure, and Frankie hatches the idea of having Heifetz perform at the school’s concert. With the determination of Deanna Durbin stalking Stokowski, Frankie, through a series of adventures, attracts the attention of Heifetz to the concert.

Playing a similar idealistic role in “Dead End” Joel McCrea is back as the love interest to Ann. I’m very fond of Joel McCrea, but this may be one of his most colorless roles. He can’t do a thing with it, and it’s not his fault.

Marjorie Main plays Frankie’s mom, and she’s a far different mother than her shattering scene in “Dead End.” Frankie runs away from his abusive father, but his mom is very supportive of her son.

 

Porter Hall is at his most despicable here, even more so than shooting Gary Cooper’s Wild Bill Hickok in the back in “The Plainsman” (1936). In “They Shall Have Music” Hall tries to take back the kid’s instruments, even as they are onstage for the concert! He doesn’t even wait for the concert to be over. The scenes leading up to the concert are very entertaining, as the neighborhood mothers stand firm in front of the school’s entrance, blocking the police and re-possessors from entering the building.

For Heifetz fans, the film is a joy. He gets five solos in the film, and it’s a pleasure to watch a film like this with minimal cutting so we can concentrate on the music. The finale finds him performing the final movement of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto accompanied by the school orchestra. Said orchestra members are played by The Pete Meremblum California Junior Symphony Orchestra, a group made up of young musicians. I have a dim memory of reading somewhere that, outside of his film duties, Alfred Newman was one of the orchestra’s conductors, but I can’t find the citation in any of my books. .

 

 Heifetz was no stranger to Hollywood. An earlier Hollywood connection was his 1928 marriage to actress Florence Vidor, ex-wife of the director King Vidor. Later, on he would commission glorious violin concertos from Erich Wolfgang Korngold and Miklos Rozsa.

Alfred Newman was nominated for his music director duties here in the Best Score category. It was one of Newman’s four nominations that year. His other nomination in the Best Score category was for “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” and in the Best Original Score category he was nominated for “The Rains Came” and “Wuthering Heights.”

I think the Best Score category was for scores that were adaptations of pre-existing music, but that doesn’t explain the nomination for the Hunchback or Korngold’s nomination for “The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex”, both of which are substantially original scores. To further muddy the waters, Aaron Copland’s score for “Of Mice and Men” was nominated twice, once in both categories. Strange are the ways of the Academy Awards. (Newman lost that year to “Stagecoach” in the Best Score category).

I watched “They Shall Have Music” on a VHS tape, and with the news that the Samuel Goldwyn film catalog will be released on DVD and Blu Ray next year, this film may be one I would gladly update for. It’s corny, to be sure, but its heart is in the right place and the music can’t be beat. Just lower your expectations if you’re a Joel McCrea fan.

Stars and Stripes Forever

After watching a spectacular fireworks display at the local park, and still experiencing a patriotic high, it seemed appropriate to pull out my VHS copy of “Stars and Stripes Forever” (1952), Twentieth Century Fox’s Technicolor tribute to march composer John Philip Sousa. There’s only the modicum of a plot, but the performances are so likeable and the music is so great, that I forgave the lack of story and dramatic incident.

Admittedly, I don’t know too much about the real life of Sousa, but if there’s no real drama regarding his life, then I’m fine with not making up conflict and letting us instead enjoy the music and period trappings.

Clifton Webb stars as John Philip Sousa and he’s great as always. I can watch him in anything. We usually think of Webb as the caustic, snobbish type, but he can also be remarkably subtle and moving.

A few weeks ago I watched, and thoroughly enjoyed, “Titanic” (1953) where he and Barbara Stanwyck most believably play a long-time married couple watching their marriage unraveling and his betrayal that their son is not Webb’s. The scenes with Webb and son on the sinking deck (hardly giving anything away here, folks) are very moving. Webb accomplishes so much with so little.

In “Stars and Stripes Forever” Webb enjoys wedded bliss with his wife (Ruth Hussey) and three children. Perhaps there’s not enough Sousa and too much footage given over to a romance between sousaphone inventor Willie Little (Robert Wagner) and dancer Lilly Becker (Debra Paget), but they are both so beguiling and charming in this that I didn’t care. In fact, it may be the most likable performance from Wagner I’ve ever seen. He’s almost like a stalker in his attempts to play under Sousa, but he’s so upfront about it and so eager to be in the presence of the great man that I rooted for him the entire time.

(I do know enough about Sousa’s life that he himself invented the sousaphone and not some guy named Willie Little. But then how else is Willie going to ingratiate himself with Sousa than by telling him about his invention of the sousaphone? It’s a great scene and Webb’s befuddlement is a joy to behold.)

There’s also a very amusing scene where Sousa is leading the United States Marine Band at a White House function hosted by the 23rd president, Benjamin Harrison.

The receiving line is taking too long and a presidential aide asks Sousa to play something livelier to move the line along. Sousa plays his famous march “Semper Fidelis” and President Harrison is pleased that the music’s quick tempo makes those in the receiving line move much faster. (They should play that march at the receiving lines at some wedding receptions I’ve been to.)

I’ve always had an interest in U.S. presidents and can’t recall another film where Harrison was portrayed. If anyone knows of any other films featuring Benjamin Harrison, I’d love to hear about it.

Arguably the best studio orchestra in the 1950s was the Twentieth Century Fox one and with Music Director Alfred Newman leading the orchestra you know that the famous Sousa marches are going to be given a first-rate treatment. Many of Sousa’s most famous marches are performed and they can get the blood flowing in a corpse.

For the Olympics buffs out there, the film’s orchestrations are provided by Leo Arnaud, whose own Olympic fanfare is as well-known as any Sousa march.

The Sousa band not only played his marches, but other compositions as well. We get robust performances of “Turkey in the Straw”, the “Light Cavalry Overture”, “Dixie” and a stupendous choral performance of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Fox choral director Ken Darby is responsible for the latter, and when Newman and Darby teamed up you knew one’s ears would be burning with pleasure for the length of the movie.

There’s a lot of musical talent here and if one of the film music labels ever released the tracks it would make a wonderful album of American music.

Speaking of musical talent, Debra Paget as showgirl Lily Becker has a terrific number called “When It’s Springtime in New York” and also dances to Sousa’s “Washington Post” march. She’s a wonderful dancer and it’s too bad she didn’t have the opportunity to do more musicals. I always wondered about that.

Fox was known for their musicals starring blondes like Alice Faye, Betty Grable, June Haver and Marilyn Monroe. Did Zanuck not want to top line a brunette in one of the studio’s musicals? I know musicals were slowly easing their way out in popularity in the 1950s, but I still would have loved to have seen Debra Paget in more musicals.

In addition to the music, the film benefits from the glorious Technicolor that Fox lavished on their musicals. Even in my slightly faded VHS copy of the film, the colors burst through.

Director of “Stars and Stripes Forever” is Henry Koster, a great favorite of mine. He directed many a movie I’m very fond and many of them are what some people might pejoratively call “nice movies.”

Not from me, though. There’s a lot of heart and humanity in Koster’s films but with the treacle held back. I think he’s incredibly underrated and anyone who schedules a Henry Koster Film Festival would earn the happy gratitude of the attending audience.

I wrote about Koster before in my look at “The Robe” (1953) – I know, shoot me, but I love it. One can’t go wrong with any of these titles: two Deanna Durbin films “First Love” (1939) and “Spring Parade” (1940); “The Bishop’s Wife” (1947); “Come to the Stable” (1949); “Harvey” (1950); and “A Man Called Peter” (1955). There’s many others in his neglected filmography.

If memory serves, “Stars and Stripes Forever” was due to be released on DVD about five years ago, but it never happened. Since “The Egyptian” (1954) was announced for release at about the same time, and it’s finally coming out this month on DVD on the specialty Twilight Time label, I’m hoping that we will soon see “Stars and Stripes Forever” on DVD. It’s a movie to be enjoyed over and over again, not just on the Fourth of July, but all year long.

The Robe

I finally got around to watching the new DVD of “The Robe” (1953) and was really surprised at how much I enjoyed it. I’ve always liked the film, mainly due to the glorious Alfred Newman score, but always found it more than a bit plodding and talky.

But Twentieth Century Fox put a ton of money into restoring this historically significant movie (the first Cinemascope offering) for DVD and Blu-Ray release, and the results look spectacular. I felt like I was watching it for the first time and the two hour and 10 minute running time just flew by. I was captivated from beginning to end, even while recognizing its faults.

“The Robe” details the effect the title garment - the robe Jesus was wearing when he was crucified - has on the Roman centurion Marcellus Gallio (Richard Burton) who led the crucifixion. Thanks to the Robe and the early Christians he meets on his journey, he is converted to Christianity and returns to Rome, under the rule of the depraved Caligula (Jay Robinson).

“The Robe” was based on a huge best seller written by Lloyd C. Douglas, a Protestant minister whose books often contained spiritual themes, such as “Magnificent Obsession” and “Green Light.” The novel really struck a chord with World War II audiences, with its message of faith and trust in mankind.

The movie follows the book’s core incidents, though much was obviously left out.

There is much to enjoy while watching “The Robe” but, sadly, the acting is not one of them. Richard Burton earned his second of seven Academy Award nominations and this was one nomination that was not deserved. His magnificent speaking voice is pretty monotone throughout and his facial grimacing and contorting when faced with the magic properties of The Robe are pretty embarrassing now. Jean Simmons who plays Diana, who fell in love with Marcellus when they were children, isn’t given much to do though she looks as beautiful as ever and has a good scene where she denounces Caligula before the gathered Roman court.

Acting chops go to, no kidding, Victor Mature, as the Greek slave Demetrius. Always a very likable actor, Mature gives one of his best performances as the anger-filled slave who sees his life transformed by the events at Calvary.

The other standout performance is Jay Robinson’s gloriously fruity Caligula. Caligula was the maddest of all Roman emperors and Robinson is a joy to watch in each scene. He’s even loonier in the film’s sequel, “Demetrius and the Gladiators” (1954), where he thinks the Robe will give him magic powers.

The film is happily loaded with familiar faces: Dean Jagger as one of the first Christians; Michael Rennie as Peter; Torin Thatcher plays Burton’s father, a Senator who pleads with his son not to incur Caligula’s wrath; Richard Boone makes the most pensive Pontius Pilate imaginable; 1950s science fiction hero Jeff Morrow engages in a pretty good sword duel with Burton; Dr. Pretorius himself, Ernest Thesiger, plays the wise Tiberius; future General Burkhalter Leon Askin plays a slimy tradesman; and an uncredited Michael Ansara plays Judas with great theatricality, aided by some impressive thunder and lightning effects. Also uncredited is Mae Marsh, former leading lady to D.W. Griffin, as the woman who assists Demetrius after he is beaten by the Romans.

For a director unused to the widescreen process, Henry Koster does a good job of positioning his actors within the wide Cinemascope frame, especially in the Calvary sequence and the scene where Burton and other early Christians stage a raid on a Roman prison to rescue Demetrius

Koster will likely never earn praise for his style, but he directed many movies I’m very fond of. There’s always a great deal of warmth that shine from his films. Unlike the stereotypical tyrannical director, I always get the impression that Koster liked people, imperfections and all. He directed several of my favorite Deanna Durbin films, including “First Love” (1939); “Spring Parade” (1940); and “It Started with Eve” (1941). Two of his best loved films that remain popular today are “The Bishop’s Wife” (1947) and “Harvey” (1950). His name also appears on the charming “Come to the Stable” (1949) and the John Philip Sousa biography “Stars and Stripes Forever” (1952). Good movies all, and I think Fox entrusted him with “The Robe” due to the humanity he brought to his projects.

(Koster was also lucky enough to be married to uber-cutie Peggy Moran, a starlet best remembered today for her heroine turn in “The Mummy’s Hand.” (1940). If I was married to Peggy Moran, I’d celebrate humanity too.)

The best part of “The Robe” is the exquisite musical score of Alfred Newman. It’s one of the most famous scores in movie history, and was one of the first scores to have its excerpts re-recorded for LP back in the early 1950s. The score, re-issued several times over the years on LP, cassette tape and DVD, has rarely been out of print. Quite an achievement.

It’s a magnificent score, filled with beauty, lyricism, tenderness and excitement. So many highlights I can’t begin to list them all, but I always liked the exquisite treatment of the love theme as Marcellus’ boat leaves the Roman dock for Palestine and Diana looks at him from the pier. Ironically the film’s most famous theme, the glorious “Hallelujah” chorus at the end, was likely not Newman’s but composed by Austrian composer Ernst Toch for the 1939 film “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

Toch was a well-known composer in Europe in the 1920s and 1930s who fled his country during the rise of Nazism. He settled in Hollywood where he taught, composed symphonies and also wrote musical scores for movies. Newman was incredibly busy in 1939 and by necessity farmed out portions of his scores to ghostwriters (a common practice then and now). There’s pretty strong documentation that Toch, not Newman, composed the Hallelujah chorus in “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” in the scene where Quasimodo swings from the bell tower to rescue Esmeralda from hanging.

Newman liked it and re-used it in his Academy Award-winning score for “The Song of Bernadette” (1944), but it’s given its most lavish treatment for the final scene of “The Robe.” In the 1950s, no other studio orchestra could match the 20th Century Fox Orchestra and Chorus, and they really do the piece justice. We’re talking goose bumps here.

Careful listeners can also hear it played faintly during the climatic scene in “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946) when George Bailey is running and yelling through snowy Bedford Falls on his way home.

“The Robe” was a massive hit for Fox, and resulted in a very entertaining sequel the next year called “Demetrius and the Gladiators.” Victor Mature was back, as was Michael Rennie’s Peter and Jay Robinson’s Caligula. They’re joined by Susan Hayward (as Messalina), Debra Paget, Ernest Borgnine, Anne Bancroft, Barry Jones (as Claudius) and a pre-Blacula William Marshall.

In one of the great injustices in Oscar history, Alfred Newman’s score for “The Robe” was not nominated for Best Score. (See, “Dark Knight” fans, the Oscars have long been known for head-scratching omissions). Composer Franz Waxman was so incensed at this that he resigned from the Academy in protest. The following year when he was given the assignment of “Demetrius and the Gladiators”, he re-used several of Newman’s themes in key scenes and the two shared a title card on the film.

Gerry, the guy I rent movies from in Westmont, Westmont Movie Classics (over 15,000 titles!) tells me “The Robe” is one of his most popular titles, renting out pretty much every weekend. He purchased extra copies to meet demand. More than 50 years later, “The Robe” still continues to entertain and inspire.

Born to Dance; Speedy

“Born to Dance” (1936) is oodles of fun to watch, 105 minutes of terrific Cole Porter songs, dancing, comedy and luscious production design in the best M-G-M style. There’s a lot of exuberance on display here, which translates into good will for the audience.

Eleanor Powell was one of the great female dancers in the movies, and she’s shown to her best advantage here. The final number is a little ditty called “Swingin’ the Jinx Away” set on the deck of a mock battleship. It runs more than 10 minutes along, boasts seemingly a hundred or so extras, but Powell commands center stage and is amazing to watch. She sports a huge grin throughout the whole number, and golly, I think she means it. In her numbers she looks like she’s having the time of her life as she taps away. With other dancers, sometimes the smiles look forced, like Ray McDonald in the “Hoe Down” number from “Babes on Broadway” (1941). But dancers like Powell and Rita Hayworth seem to attain a special glow when dancing and it’s a lot of fun to watch.

Equally enjoyable is James Stewart in one of his first movies. He exhibits a pleasant singing voice as he croons “Easy to Love” to Powell and joins the cast and crew in the exuberant “Hey, Babe, Hey” number. He kicks up his heels in the number, and appears astonished, and pleased with himself, that he’s keeping up with professional dancers like Powell and Buddy Ebsen.

The trailer on the DVD is interesting, because it highlights selections from the Porter score, but does not highlight the song that has stood the test of time, “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” Not the swinging version known thanks to Frank Sinatra, the song here is sung at a more languid tempo by Virginia Bruce. I love the look she gives Stewart as she finishes the song, a long lingering close up of her over a champagne glass. That inviting look says more than pages of dialogue could.

“Born to Dance” is probably the best sounding of the 1930s M-G-M musicals, thanks to Alfred Newman’s musical direction. He was freelancing at this point in his career before deciding on a long-term contract with 20th Century Fox in the late 1930s. It’s fun to think what he could have bought to M-G-M, but with Lennie Hayton, Johnny Green, Conrad Salinger and others in the future, the M-G-M musical was in more than capable hands. But there’s no denying the extra oomph that Newman brings here.

There’s a riotous scene after the “Easy to Love” number when a suspicious cop (Reginald Gardiner) spies Powell dancing while Stewart air conducts the orchestra. Gardiner stops the proceedings, holds up his hands, and then proceeds to air conduct the music in a manner befitting a symphony conductor, with the music taking on the flavor of a vast symphony. Gardiner’s facial expressions are priceless here, and his great mop of hair is flying every which way as he conducts the music to an ever faster pitch.

The scene must have been popular with audiences, since the next year in the delightful Astaire musical “A Damsel in Distress” he does a similar scene, only this time with grand opera.

Any movie with Raymond Walburn as a dimwitted admiral is OK with me. There’s also an astonishing number Virginia Bruce called “Love Me, Love Me Pekingese” which has to be seen to be believed, and I mean in a good way. This love song to her favorite pooch, with accompanying approval from the lads of the U.S. Navy, is one of the many highlights of this most enjoyable movie.

Rating for “Born to Dance”: Three stars.

I also watched “Speedy” (1928), Harold Lloyd’s last silent feature, and a wonderful time capsule of a movie. Filmed on location in New York, there’s a marvelous sequence where Harold takes his girlfriend (Ann Christy) to the Coney Island amusement park for a day. It looks like a wonderful place to spend the day. I’ve heard relatives speak of the fun they used to have at Chicago’s version of Coney Island, Riverview, and think it must have been something like the Coney Island on display here.

There’s a fun cameo by Babe Ruth too, as cabbie Harold gives The Babe a cab ride from Hell. What fun to see a true baseball legend.

“Speedy” ends with a big chase scene and while it doesn’t contain the laughs and thrills that Harold gave us in “Girl Shy” (1924) or “For Heaven’s Sake” (1926) it still astonishes us with its stunt work, especially since it was filmed on actual New York streets. No soundstage work here.

What I like about a lot of Harold’s movies is he knows how to leave us laughing. Many of his films have a final scene or image that gives the audience one final laugh, sending us out on a grinning high. “Speedy” is no exception and its last image is one of Harold’s best.

Rating for “Speedy”: Three stars.

Son of Fury

“Son of Fury” (1942) is a rousing adventure film in the best tradition of Hollywood’s Golden Age. It was a real treat to re-discover it as part of the new DVD collection of Tyrone Power films.

Set in the latter half of the 18th Century, “Son of Fury” tells the story of Benjamin Blake (Roddy McDowell) who is cheated out of his inheritance by his uncle (a sneering George Sanders) who makes Benjamin his bond servant. Roddy grows up to be Tyrone Power, who escapes to the South Seas where he finds a treasure bed of pearls and an even greater treasure (Gene Tierney in a sarong). Newly wealthy, he returns to England to reclaim his estate.

There’s nary a wasted moment in the film, which clocks in at 98 minutes. It’s wonderfully escapist movie viewing, and shows why Tyrone Power was 20th Century Fox’s prime male box office star. As I’ve noted before, he always looks good in costume pictures, though I suspect he was somewhat disdainful of them. (Power’s best performance is in the harrowing “Nightmare Alley” (1947) with Power as a carny worker turned scam artist. It’s a wonderful film but was a huge box office bust, so 20th Century Fox studio head Darryl Zanuck put Power back in the adventure films which were consistently successful.)

Like so many classics from the 1930s and 1940s, the supporting cast is exceptionally strong. Just take a look at this who’s who of Golden Age character actors who appear in “Son of Fury”: Elsa Lanchester, John Carradine, Harry Davenport, Dudley Digges (who steals every scene he’s in as the lawyer Bartholomew Pratt), Halliwell Hobbes, Arthur Hohl, Pedro de Cordova, Lester Matthews, Dennis Hoey (Inspector Lestrade from the Universal Sherlock Holmes films) and as a judge, Robert Greig. A few postings ago I wrote about Greig’s butler role in “Trouble in Paradise” so it was nice to see him in a different role than his typical servant portrayal.

The film also marks the final screen appearance of Frances Farmer in the supporting role of Sander’s daughter who Benjamin has a romance with. Farmer was one of the most promising actresses of her generation, until alcoholism and mental health issues put a halt to her career.

In the other female role, Gene Tierney is about as Polynesian as I am, but she’s so gorgeous we don’t mind. Many of the South Seas scenes are accompanied by another lush Alfred Newman score, with one of those unforgettable island melodies that he seemingly wrote in his sleep.

When the film was released in 1942, the South Seas scenes were sepia tinted. (Much like the Caribbean scenes in Errol Flynn’s “The Sea Hawk” two years previously). When the film was successfully re-issued over the years the sepia tints were gone. I was hoping when the DVD was announced that the sepia tinting would be re-instated but it was not to be. That’s OK, because the transfer on the film is exquisite.

The film was directed by John Cromwell (father of the actor James Cromwell) and he’s woefully underrated as a director. I was looking at his filmography and I was surprised to see how many of his films are really first rate. My favorite film of his is the sublime 1937 version of “The Prisoner of Zenda” with Ronald Colman and Madeline Carroll. It’s a shame that these two films are his only entries in the swashbuckling field, as these films show he was able to bring out the best in this type of material.

Rating for “Son of Fury”: Three stars.

Captain from Castile

I’ve always enjoyed “Captain from Castile” (1947) even while recognizing its faults. It’s lavish, yet kind of slow-moving, and lacking in physical action. On the plus side, it’s never boring, gorgeous to look and the score is to die for.

“Captain from Castile” was a big production for 20th Century Fox. Reportedly in production for more than three years, it tells the tale of Cortez’s conquest of Mexico. But he really doesn’t conquer it in the movie. After two hours and 20 minutes, the movie ends with the Spanish army massed to conquer the Aztec nation. So no big battle scenes here, unfortunately.

Tyrone Power stars as Pedro de Vargas, a Castilian nobleman who runs afoul of the Spanish Inquisition, must leave Spain and heads to the New World to seek fame and fortune. He brings along a peasant girl, Catana, played in her film debut by Jean Peters, who is hopelessly in love with him. He joins the Cortez expedition, and Cesar Romero gives probably his best-ever performance as the fortune-hunting Cortez. With his mischievous grin, you can understand why men were willing to travel halfway around the world to a mysterious new world to stake their fortunes.

Fox shot the movie in Mexico, and the Technicolor cameras do a splendid job of capturing the magnificence of the country. In two scenes we can see in the background volcanoes belching huge whorls of black smoke in the air.

And then there’s the score. Sometimes a musical score for a movie can be so grand it becomes foreground music, not background music, and becomes the guiding force of a film, moreso than the actor, director, cinematography, etc.

Anyone who has ever seen “Captain from Castile” knows what I’m talking about.

Alfred Newman’s score for “Captain” is one of the jewels in film music, a symphonic masterpiece brimming with passion, excitement, romance and adventure.

The score’s most famous piece, the “Conquest March”, is heard in all its glory in the final five minutes. The USC marching band adopted the piece as its signature tune, so thousands of people are familiar with it even though they may not associate it with the film. I’ve heard the Chicago Symphony Orchestra perform the piece live and it gave me goosebumps.

Catana’s melody is an inspired creation, and covers the romantic scenes with a fine sheen. Glenn Erickson, a critic I greatly respect (www.dvdsavant.com), also loves the score save for Catana’s theme, which he describes as “weird.” I think weird is too harsh a word, but I think I know what he means. It’s not a traditional love theme, and when it’s played in the high registers of the strings, as here, it has an ethereal quality, as if Catana is a ghost or a memory, instead of a simple peasant girl. But the melody is so gorgeous we don’t mind. It’s almost as if Newman was placing her on a higher plane, like a Castilian Virgin Mary, a la his vision scenes for “The Song of Bernadette” for which Newman won a well-deserved Oscar in 1943.


My favorite part of the film is the first 45 minutes set in Spain. Most of action takes place here, what with the Inquisition, a prison escape and a horseback chase through the countryside. Thrilling stuff.

The DVD transfer is fine, though these first 45 minutes seem a little dark to me. I’m not familiar with how the film originally looked, and though many of the scenes take place at night or in prison cells, I think it could be brightened up a bit.

Enamored of the movie as a mere youth after seeing it on television, I went to the library to read the book on which it was based. Samuel Shellabarger was a very popular writer of historical fiction decades ago, though his work is rarely revived today. It’s too bad, because the man had a God-given gift for story telling.

The second half of the book is full of marvelous, blood-thirsty action. If memory serves, all the battle scenes fall in the second half, and at one point Catana is captured by the Aztecs and strapped naked atop a temple ready for a human sacrifice. The Spanish attack and Pedro rescues Catana and carries her naked self down the temple steps, arrows flying about and Pedro and his comrades slashing their way through the enemy. That scene made quite an impression on me, and I would love to see that on screen someday. Perhaps a remake is in order? But please, keep Hans Zimmer away.

Despite its flaws, “Captain from Castile” remains splendid entertainment. I look forward to seeing - and hearing it - again.

Rating for “Captain from Castile”: Three stars.