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Showing posts with label Douglas Fairbanks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Douglas Fairbanks. Show all posts

The Exile

Wednesday, June 24, 2009


After waiting (literally) decades to see “The Exile” (1947), I finally got to see it last night, thanks to the fine folk at the Gene Siskel Film Center in Chicago, who screened it as part of its ongoing Max Ophuls retrospective.

I had a great interest in seeing this as I once asked the star of the movie, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., how come it was never shown anywhere.

Almost 20 years ago Fairbanks was touring the country promoting the first volume of his autobiography “The Salad Days” (a marvelous read, by the way) and he was appearing on the “Extension 720” show on WGN-AM. There was much discussion about his career, his father, step mom (Mary Pickford) and famous movies such as “Gunga Din.”


It was a good show but I was chomping at the bit to find out about “The Exile”, a swashbuckler he not only starred in, but also produced and wrote. I have no memory of it being on television in all the years growing up. (If it was on I missed it.)

I’ve always liked Fairbanks, especially in his swashbucklers, like “The Corsican Brothers” (1941), “Sinbad the Sailor” (1948) and my personal favorite “The Fighting O’Flynn” (1949). “Gunga Din” (1939) is one of the greatest adventure movies ever made, as is the 1937 version of “The Prisoner of Zenda.” Fairbanks played the villain Rupert of Hentzau in that and he’s absolutely sensational, one of the cheekiest rogues in the swashbuckling canon. Despite his nefarious activities throughout he’s so engaging that when he escapes at the end we feel like cheering.

I’ve enjoyed the above titles many times over the years, but never an appearance of “The Exile” anywhere. Why?

I decided to call in to see if I could get on and ask about why “The Exile” was never shown anywhere.

So I dialed up the station and told the producer who screened the calls my question. I added, “And he produced it too, so I was wondering if there some sorts of rights issues involved that were keeping it unseen.”

The producer said it was a good question and to hold the line, I would be on the air shortly.

A few minutes later I was talking to Mr. Fairbanks himself. I was nervous, but got through my question OK.

He seemed surprised by the question and said something like, “I honestly don’t know. I’m unaware of any rights problems. Some friends of mine saw it on TV in New York a few months ago and called me about it.”

I thanked him, he thanked me and I hung up. So as long as there no rights problems, surely it would show up someplace. Nope, not on TV, VHS or DVD. I’ve waited and waited and never saw it until last night.

Was the wait worth it? Yes it was. There’s not as much action as I would have liked, but there was plenty more to keep one’s eyes happily occupied, namely Ophuls’s graceful camera movements and the stunning production design.

“The Exile” is set in 1660. Charles II, King of England, is in exile in Holland after being chased out of the country by Oliver Cromwell and his Roundheads. The Roundheads have agents scattered throughout Europe looking for the king so they can kill him. In Holland, Charles falls for a pretty Dutch farm girl (Paule Croset, previously Rita Corday, later Paula Corday) and settles on her farm/inn as a worker. He is kept advised of the situation in England by a group of loyal followers, including Sir Edward Hyde (a non-bumbling Nigel Bruce).

One particularly dangerous Roundhead agent (Henry Daniell) finds his way to Holland and tracks down Charles. Daniell is one of my favorite character actors and if you’re going to cast someone as a Roundhead, Henry Daniell should be your first choice. The man could bring a polar ice cap to the Equator just be standing there and glowering. Unfortunately Daniell is not in the movie as much as I would like.

Fairbanks wrote “The Exile” and the screenplay structure is very odd. There’s very little physical action until the final quarter of its 97-minute running time. It’s structured almost like a play, with long scenes taking place in one or two locations.

One long sequence has a bemused Charles playing host to an actor (Robert Coote) who claims he is the exiled king.

Another sequence has a French countess (Maria Montez) flirting with Charles and giving him messages and gifts from the French king.

Still producer Fairbanks knew what he was doing when he hired Max Ophuls to direct. This is a stunning film to look at in every way. Ophuls favored long tracking shots with a minimum of cutting. A long opening scene on a Holland dock between Charles and Katie is done in a series of long, fluid takes. In a lot of historical movies, the sets are lavish but they seem like sets. Here the camera tracks characters as they move from location to location, or in the inn, from room to room with nary a cut.

The construction of these sets must have really taxed the Universal Studios production design department, but they likely welcomed the challenge. By the late 1940s, Universal was one of the most factory-like of the major studios, and the production department no doubt relished the chance to construct sets with real depth and breadth.

Most of the action occurs at the end, with the final duel between Charles and his Roundhead opponent in a windmill (another spectacular set). Fairbanks and Daniell exchange dialogue in between sword parries and thrusts. At one point Charles asks quite sensibly, “England will still go on even if we both die.”

I was excited to see the name of David Sharpe in the credits as the action scenes choreographer. Sharpe was one of the best stuntmen in the business, responsible for so many of the memorable stunts that fill Republic serials and B-westerns. Seeing his name I was expecting him to bring some of that Republic magic to “The Exile.” It’s there, just not in the doses I wanted. Still, Fairbanks’s Charles II is probably the most athletic king in movie history, jumping through windows and riding windmill blades while evading his Roundhead enemies.

In a 1988 interview with The New York Times, Fairbanks names “The Exile” as one of his favorite films even though “we were forced to hire Maria Montez for that.”


Not very gallant, I say, and how would he feel that much interest in “The Exile” today rests on Montez’s 10-minute cameo?

Back to that phone call. It was the oddest sensation to talk to someone famous with a very distinctive voice and hear that voice come back to you over the phone. A few years later I talked to Charlton Heston on the same radio show and had the same reaction. These aren’t just actors, these are larger than life personalities with highly identifiable speaking voices.

I mean if I called into a radio show to talk to, say, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Ben Affleck or George Clooney would the sensation be the same? I don’t think so. I probably wouldn’t expend the energy to talk to any of those gentlemen, but if I was blindfold and they each said something could I identify who was talking? Not in a million years.

But Fairbanks and Heston! Those are voices, larger than life, unique and individual. Those are famous voices and to hear them talking through your telephone is a weird sensation. But I’m glad I had the opportunity to do so.

The Thief of Bagdad (1924)

Thursday, October 18, 2007

“The Thief of Bagdad” (1924) is one of the most lavish silent movies ever made, thanks to the wondrous production design of William Cameron Menzies (“Gone with the Wind”, “King’s Row”). The oversize sets are a wonder to behold and the special effects are quite charming. In fact the flying carpet sequences are still quite effective.

The main flaw in the film is it takes forever to get going. It runs two and a half hours and the first hour appears to me devoid of much drama. Like Faribanks’ earlier “Robin Hood” (1922) it takes a while to get going, but once it does the entertainment level kicks in big time.

Douglas Fairbanks plays the title character who falls in love with a princess (Julanne Johnston). She falls in love with him too, but he is a mere commoner, and a thief to boot. To win her love, he must embark on a series of challenges to win her hand. These adventures include fighting a dragon, battling a large bat-like creature, tangling with a large underwater creature while being tempted by sirens, stealing a gem from the eyes of a giant statue, etc.

While Doug is away, a Mongol suitor (the Japanese actor Sojin) attempts to take over Bagdad with the aide of the Princess’ hand maiden, played by a young and stunningly beautiful Anna May Wong.

The second half of the movie flies by and offers a never-ending parade of wondrous sights. I can imagine 1924 audiences must have been bowled over by the sheer spectacle on display, and I can see why it was such a huge hit.

Fairbanks is as dynamic as ever, and his enthusiasm shines through 80 years later. Johnston is adequate in her role but rather colorless. It’s too bad Wong couldn’t have essayed the role. She would have brought much more fire to it.

Sojin makes a good villain and I was interested to see him, as he played Charlie Chan in the silent “The Chinese Parrott.” (1927). This film is unfortunately lost, and it’s a shame as I would think it would be a real treat to see. It was directed by Paul Leni, a master stylist who directed “The Cat and the Canary” (1927) and “The Man Who Laughs” (1928), two films that rank among the most stylish silent films I’ve ever seen. I would love to see what he did with “The Chinese Parrott.”

The score on the Kino DVD is based on the original 1924 cue sheets and contains original themes as well as familiar themes based on Rimsky-Korsakov and Ippolitov-Ivanov compositions..

The “Thief of Bagdad” has been remade several times most notably in 1940 with Sabu, a version which remains one of the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous color films ever made. The Miklos Rozsa score for the 1940 version is one of the greatest pieces of symphonic music written in the 20th century. And no, I’m not exaggerating.

Rating for the 1924 “The Thief of Bagdad”: Three stars.

Don Q, Son of Zorro

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

I apologize to faithful readers of this blog (all five of you), for not updating this of late. Thanks to a plethora of summertime activities, I did not go see any movies this past weekend and hardly watched any at home.

However, I did watch one movie, a silent movie called “Don Q, Son of Zorro” (1925) starring one of the decade’s biggest stars, Douglas Fairbanks.

A sequel to his enormously successful “The Mark of Zorro” (1920) – yes, they even had sequels in the 1920s – stars Fairbanks in the title role, who is framed for murder and must clear his name. Of course the villain (Donald Crisp, who also directed) must compete with Don Q for the same woman (Mary Astor, 16 years before her celebrated turn as Brigid O’Shaughnessey in the immortal “The Maltese Falcon”).

With the help of Pa Zorro (also played by Fairbanks), all rights are wronged and Fairbanks and Astor share a romantic clinch at the end. The climax is very exciting as father and son duel their way through the ruins of the family estate. An expert swordsman, Don Q also wields a whip in ways that would make Indiana Jones turn green with envy.

The film is a lot of fun and well worth watching but there was one scene that had me gasping in amazement.

Fairbanks as Don Q is sitting in a chair near a fire. He puts a cigarette in his mouth, and in one fluid motion, flicks his whip towards the fire so the end of it catches fire, snaps it up to light his cigarette and with a quick flip of his wrist extinguishes the flame at the end of his whip. Simply amazing.

At first I thought it was trick photography. After all, the climax of the movie shows the two Zorros fighting side by side, and Fairbanks’s movie the previous year was the monumental, special effects heavy “The Thief of Baghdad”, so he was not adverse to using the latest in special effects techniques.

But I stopped the film several times and re-ran it back and forth, even in slow motion, and it looks real to me and not an illusion. In real life Fairbanks was an acrobat so its very possible he taught himself this cigarette lighting trick.

There’s also a leap into a carriage that has to be seen to be believed. The camera is far enough away so we can see there’s no trampoline device of any kind on the ground. He faces the carriage, leaps into it, twists his body so he lands facing forward into the carriage before driving off. Again, simply amazing.

It’s no wonder Fairbanks was the idol of millions worldwide in the 1920s.
 

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