The Bandit of Sherwood Forest

Columbia Pictures’ “The Bandit of Sherwood Forest” (1946) is a pretty entertaining addition to the Sherwood Forest canon. It’s not as good as the Flynn or Fairbanks films, but better than the Kevin Costner and Russell Crowe entries. Fans of the “The Adventures of Robin Hood” are likely to be especially entertained, thanks to its numerous ties to that 1938 classic.

Cornel Wilde brought his real life fencing skills to the role of Robert of Nottingham, the son of the famous Robin Hood (Russell Hicks, who looks to be having a ball). Robert joins his father’s gang, including such favorites as Edgar Buchanan as Friar Tuck, John Abbott as Will Scarlett and Ray Teal as Little John, to save of the life of the Queen (Jill Esmond), and her young son the King (Maurice Tauzin) from the evil machinations of the Regent (Henry Daniell, a useful substitute when Basil Rathbone is not around).

Among other dastardly deeds, The Regent plans to negate the Magna Carta, a key story line in the Russell Crowe version.

Robert falls in love with Catherine (Anita Louise), lady-in-waiting to the Queen. It’s very interesting to see Anita Louise here, as at one time she was scheduled to play Maid Marian opposite Errol Flynn, before wiser heads cast Olivia deHavilland in what would be one of her signature roles.

There are other comparisons to the Flynn version. “Bandit” composer Hugo Friedhofer was one of the orchestrators for Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Academy Award-winning score for the “The Adventures of Robin Hood.” Several of the cues do sound like they could have been included in the Flynn film. Indeed, his score is an exuberant one and is more than adequate to support the more modest scope of this version. (1946 was also the year Friedhofer won the Academy Award for Best Score for “The Best Years of Our Lives.”)

Lloyd Corrigan plays the Sheriff of Nottingham in the same buffoon fashion as Melville Cooper did. (Did the Sheriff being played for laughs begin with the Errol Flynn version?)

The biggest similarity is the final scene. I don’t think I’m giving anything away here when I say both films enjoy a happy ending, though I was surprised at how similar the endings were. Both films end with a grateful king knighting the hero and with Robin/Robert and Marian/Catherine standing before the king, who asks if the two love each other and would take each other in marriage.

Though eight years separated the films, “The Adventures of Robin Hood” was one of the most popular films in the Warner Bros. library, and was constantly being re-issued. Mindful of this, it’s no wonder Columbia Pictures saw a new Robin Hood film as a perfect vehicle for Cornel Wilde, its new contract player. Wilde was in real-life a champion fencer who was a member of the U.S. Olympics fencing team. He would have participated in the 1936 Olympics had not he left the team to pursue acting. Wilde makes a dashing hero, and his final duel with Daniell is a good one.

As masterful a villain as he could be, Daniell was no fencer and had to be extensively doubled in his dueling scenes. On “The Sea Hawk” (1940), Daniell was so ineffective that director Michael Curtiz said it took forever to film close-ups where it would appear he was dueling.

Columbia had a big hit with “The Bandit of Sherwood Forest”, which earned more than $3 million at the box office. 1946 was one of Hollywood’s biggest years ever. The war was over, and GIs were returning home to start families and carve out new lives for themselves. Going to the movies was an even bigger past time than ever, and 1946 saw attendance hit record peaks. Pretty much everything made money that year, but $3 million for a modestly budgeted swashbuckler is pretty impressive. Wilde had a huge hit the year before playing Chopin in “A Song to Remember” and was the new heart throb. In addition to the action and romance, however, I think another big factor in the film’s success was the Technicolor.

I’m not an expert on color photography, but it seems to me that Columbia and 20th Century Fox were the experts when it came to Technicolor films. Even today their color films from this period have an added vitality to them that were lacking at other studios. I can’t put my finger on it, but their colors are exceptionally vivid. (Too vivid some may say, but not me. I love my three-strip Technicolor).

The film’s credits list two directors, George Sherman and Henry Levin. I would be curious to find out what happened, as two credited directors on a film was unusual for the time. (Actually it still is today). Sherman directed a lot of B westerns at Republic, so I assume that the opening scenes of the Merry Men riding throughout the forest gathering forces as they go were directed by him.

No earth shaker but an enjoyable film, “The Bandit of Sherwood Forest” will likely retain its place in the upper echelon of Robin Hood movies.

The Exile

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.

Castle in the Desert

“Castle in the Desert” (1942) was the last Charlie Chan film produced by 20th Century Fox and unlike many final series entries, it’s a most respectable conclusion. An unusual setting, great atmosphere and wonderful supporting cast really elevate this one.

Charlie Chan (Sidney Toler) is summoned to a mysterious castle in the Mojave desert owned by the Manderleys (shades of “Rebecca.”) Paul Manderley (Douglass Dumbrille) is a historian studying the Borgias. His wife Lucrezia “Lucy” (Lenita Lane) is a direct descendant of the infamous family of poisoners. Manderley keeps half his face hidden under a large scarf, thanks to an industrial accident which left part of his face horribly scarred.

He’s so intent on immersing himself in the 16th century while writing about the Borgias, that the Manderley Castle has no phone or radio.

Effectively cut off from the world (accessible only by taxi, with the nearest town 70 miles away), the Castle nevertheless welcomes a houseful of guests.

The great Henry Daniell shows up as a sculptor and there are others on hand, including Steven Geray, Edmund MacDonald and the conventional young couple, Arleen Whelan and Richard Derr. Ethel Griffies, the old ornithologist in the café in “The Birds” (1963), plays a woman with supposed mystical powers who sneaks into the castle to warn everyone of impending doom.

Why Charlie was invited no one knows, but it’s a good thing he’s there, because poison soon claims its first victim, played by Milton Parsons. (Always liked Milton, and was sorry to see him go so soon).

Apparently someone suspected Charlie’s services would be needed. Fortunately Number Two Son Jimmy (Sen Yung) has a week’s leave from the Army and is happy to help “Pop” with the case. In Jimmy’s case, help equals hindrance.

The interior design of the castle is a marvel, filled with all kinds of macabre furniture and props. The lighting is particularly good here. Also, any movie that boasts both Douglass Dumbrille and Henry Daniell in the cast is automatic viewing.

Thanks to World War II, Fox pulled the plug on the Chan series. I’ve never quite understood why. Not making any more Mr. Moto movies makes a certain kind of sense since he was Japanese, but Charlie is of Chinese descent, and an American citizen to boot. Perhaps Fox thought Charlie was more suited to detective work, which seemed trivial in light of current world events. There were now spies and enemy agents to capture, and Fox’s newest in-house sleuth, Michael Shayne, could handle that, and provide more physical action, than Charlie could.

Charlie Chan wasn’t the only detective series the studio dropped. Fox had made two very successful Sherlock Holmes films in 1939 with (of course) Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, both set in Victorian England. They declined the option to make additional entries, feeling audiences wouldn’t care about Victorian skullduggery when the war was going on. So off they went to Universal, starring in arguably the most popular detective series of all time (and with an updating that included entries where Holmes and Watson battle Nazis).

Charlie Chan, still played by Sidney Toler, also moved, but instead of a lateral move to another major studio, he wound up at Monogram Pictures, that Poverty Row studio par excellence. Toler played Charlie 11 more times at Monogram, before dying in 1947. Monogram replaced him with Roland Winters, in six additional titles before ending the series for good in 1949.

Production-wise, of course, the Monograms can’t hold a candle to Fox, and several of the Monogram Tolers like “Dangerous Money” (1947) and “The Trap” are unspeakably bad, and are probably the worst Charlie Chan films ever.

But the Monograms had what Fox didn’t – the great comedian Mantan Moreland as Birmingham Brown, the Chan family chauffeur. His comedy relief, still genuinely funny today, is the highlight of these films. Birmingham Brown wants nothing to do with murders, or corpses, but of course, when you chauffeur Charlie Chan, that’s not going to happen.

Even if it wasn’t the last in the series from 20th Century Fox, “Castle in the Desert” would still earn kudos as a more than respectable entry in the Charlie Chan filmography.

Rating for “Castle in the Desert”: Two and a half stars.