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Month: March 2012

Son of the Sheik, The (1926)

Son of the Sheik, The (1926)

“Like all youths, he loved a dancing girl. Like all dancing girls, she tricked him.”

Synopsis:
The son (Rudolph Valentino) of an Arabian sheik (also Valentino) falls in love with a dancer (Vilma Banky) whose father (George Fawcett) and his cronies are thieves. When young Ahmed (Valentino) is mistakenly led to believe Banky seduced him as a front for her father’s gang, he feels terribly betrayed, and kidnaps her in revenge.

Genres:

Review:
The Son of the Sheik — notable as one of Hollywood’s first sequels — was released just two weeks after Rudolph Valentino’s premature death from appendicitis at the age of 31, and was one of his biggest hits with audiences; it’s now widely considered by critics to be his best film. Indeed, it shows clear evidence of how far Valentino’s acting range had evolved since his laughably one-dimensional performance in The Sheik (1921) (which consisted of little more then leers and melodramatic eyebrow-raising); here, playing both the Sheik and his son, his expressions are much subtler — it’s not just the elder Sheik’s graying hair that allows us to differentiate between father and son. Meanwhile, the original film’s disturbing premise of love borne from captivity has been replaced by a refreshingly mutual attraction between young Valentino and Banky; their sexual chemistry together is palpable, and makes for enjoyable eye candy. With all that said, The Son of the Sheik is ultimately little more than escapist fare; the fact that it’s more palatable than its awful predecessor isn’t saying a whole lot. However, I am recommending it as a “must see” title to film fanatics, simply to see Valentino in his final role.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Rudolph Valentino in dual roles as the Sheik and his son

  • Plenty of sexual chemistry between Valentino and Banky
  • Fine cinematography

Must See?
Yes, simply to see Valentino in his last — and arguably his best — role(s).

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Gun Crazy / Deadly is the Female (1949)

Gun Crazy / Deadly is the Female (1949)

“Some guys are born smart about women, and some guys are born dumb.”

Synopsis:
A gun-loving but peaceful veteran (John Dall) falls in love with a sharpshooting carnival performer (Peggy Cummins) who convinces him to assist her in a series of hold-ups. Soon they’re on the run from the law, desperate to do one last job before retiring.

Genres:

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary argues that while “there have been many fine movies about young couples driving across the country with the police on their trail, including Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde, which this film surely influences”, “none is more fascinating or exciting than” Gun Crazy (a.k.a. Deadly is the Female). He notes that this “low-budgeter” by director Joseph H. Lewis is “supercharged with energy, non-stop action, violence, passion, and sex”, and, despite being “set against a backdrop of poor, insensitive, smalltown America of the forties”, remains “remarkably contemporary, especially in its portrayal of a country turned on by speed, violence, and crime”. He points out that “Lewis’s achievements are great, ranging from maintaining a terrific pace throughout to attaining a distinct sense of time and place”; a cinéma vérité-like bank hold-up taking place in the middle of the movie — shot in one long take (Lewis’s idea), without informing nearby pedestrians they were filming — is merely the most famous example of his creative genius.

Peary notes, however, that Lewis’s “more inspired contribution was giving his leads to the relatively unknown Cummins (a British actress) and Dall”. In his review of the film for his first Cult Movies book, Peary elaborates on this point by writing that “they both prove to be highly skilled actors who lend an intelligence to the proceedings and express such a complex array of emotions so honestly that it is truly hard to believe that they are not playing themselves”; in sum, “they are simply terrific”. Dall — who most film fanatics will only know from one other movie, Hitchcock’s Rope (1948) — was particularly inspired casting; Peary notes that in an interview with Lewis, he learned Lewis specifically wanted to cast a gay male in the lead because of the inner tension he felt such a man (in mid-century America) would inevitably bring to the role. Meanwhile, unknown Cummins is simply a revelation as (in Lewis’s own words) a “beautiful demon who no man can resist or help forgiving when she does wrong”.

To that end, Peary points out that he actually differs from Lewis’s own interpretation of Laurie (Cummins); Peary sees her as “the victim of a world that doesn’t forgive past sins” — a woman who may “play men for suckers” and “lead a bad life” but who “is sincere when she apologizes to Bart [Dall] for being unable to control her mean temper”. He likens her thrill-seeking tendencies to “a fiend who needs a fix or an alcoholic unable to control the urge to drink” — and this is exactly how I interpret her, too. Indeed, it’s fascinating to see a character who so clearly fits the femme fatale mold, yet remains oddly sympathetic throughout; we really do get the sense she can’t help herself, and wants to (in her words) “be good”. Adding to our sympathy is the fact that she and Dall are (eventually) so obviously in love with each other: as Peary notes, “Even when they flee police on foot through rough terrain, are soaking wet, dirty, bruised, exhausted, and in a panic because they can hear the bloodhounds, he still calls her ‘honey’, and they still take a moment to hug and kiss”.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Peggy Cummins as Annie (nominated as one of the Best Actresses of the Year in Alternate Oscars)
  • John Dall as Bart (nominated as one of the Best Actors of the Year in Alternate Oscars)
  • The justifiably lauded “one-shot” hold-up sequence
  • Consistently creative direction by Joseph Lewis


  • Russell Harlan’s cinematography



  • MacKinlay Kantor and Dalton Trumbo’s screenplay

Must See?
Yes, as an enormously enjoyable cult classic. Voted the Best Picture of the Year in Peary’s Alternate Oscars.

Categories

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

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Adventures of Prince Achmed, The (1926)

Adventures of Prince Achmed, The (1926)

[Note: The following review is of a non-Guide for the Film Fanatic title; click here to read more.]

“Where is the magic lamp?”

Synopsis:
Prince Achmed accidentally trades his sister to a wicked magician in exchange for a flying horse, who takes him to the island of Wak-Wak, where he falls in love with a bird princess named Pari Banu. When demons steal Pari Banu away from Achmed, his only chance to rescue her is with the help of Aladdin’s magic lantern.

Genres:

  • Animated Features
  • Folk Tales, Fairy Tales, and Mythology
  • German Films
  • Royalty and Nobility
  • Silent Films
  • Witches and Wizards

Review:
Lotte Reiniger’s The Adventures of Prince Achmed — considered to be the first surviving animated feature film — is a classic example of a Missing Title which Peary can’t be blamed for omitting from his GFTFF, given that it wasn’t restored and made available for viewing until 1999. While it clearly holds an indubitable place in cinema history, it also happens to be an enormously enjoyable fantasy film, one which maintains interest from beginning to end simply from the sheer, giddy inventiveness of its groundbreaking animation. Working in a self-made studio on the property of a benefactor, Reiniger — just 23 at the time — collaborated with her husband, Carl Koch, to create this “silhouette film” by cutting intricate jointed silhouettes out of black paper, then painstakingly moving them across artfully conceived backdrops to create the illusion of motion (much like stop-motion animators would do with clay).

Reiniger was a consummate storyteller, using as her inspiration the Arabian folk tale collection One Thousand and One Nights — but one gets the feeling she could have chosen just about any source material and created a similarly breathtaking masterpiece. Indeed, while the episodic story itself is reasonably compelling, it’s Reiniger’s artwork which really holds one’s attention: watch the intricate movements and interactions of the characters with their environment and with each other, as objects and people shift shape, and the landscape is kept in constant motion; it’s simply a fascinating process to see unfolding. Sadly, the film didn’t earn enough money to satisfy her benefactor, who considered his patronage a monetary investment; add to this the complications of an approaching World War, and it’s unfortunately easy to see how Reiniger’s promising career became compromised. With that said, she continued to make shorter silhouette films throughout the rest of her life, and fans can now easily view many of them — including a commercial for Nivea (!), as well as numerous European fairy tale adaptations. However, Prince Achmed (her only feature) remains her undisputed masterpiece.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Lovely, intricate animation




Must See?
Absolutely; this historically ground-breaking animation gem should be seen by all film lovers.

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Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)

Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)

“The D’Ascoynes had not only wronged my mother; they were the obstacle between me and everything I wanted.”

Synopsis:
A man (Dennis Price) whose nobly-born British mother (Audrey Fildes) was denied her heritage after marrying an Italian singer decides to seek revenge on the eight heirs (all played by Alec Guinness) who stand in the way of his succession to dukedom.

Genres:

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary’s take on this classic Ealing Studios outing — perhaps the first black comedy ever produced in Britain — is one of decided discomfort; he notes that the film produces an “odd viewing experience in that we laugh as each person is killed, even though Price’s methods are cruel and only a couple of the victims seem like despicable characters”. He points out that “as Price gets closer to his title, he becomes increasingly like the arrogant aristocrats he despises”, and “regards himself as superior to all of humanity (which corresponds to the Nietzschean aspects of the book)” upon which the screenplay was based, Roy Horniman’s Israel Rank (1907). He correctly argues that “our ‘hero’ is a cad, even [having] simultaneous affairs with a married woman (Joan Greenwood) and a widow (Valerie Hobson) of one of his victims”. Of course, as has been duly noted by many critics, “what makes [Price’s] murders tolerable (and funny) is that Alec Guinness conveniently plays all the victims”; to that end, “we are not shocked by each death because we correctly expect Guinness to turn up again quite soon”.

Despite his discomfort, Peary ultimately lauds the film as “beautifully played”, calling out its “absolutely exquisite script” with “sophisticated dialogue [that] reminds [him] of Oscar Wilde”. [“While I never admired Edith as much as when I was with Sibella, I never longed for Sibella as much as when I was with Edith”, our protagonist drolly intones at one point.] Peary points out that part of what adds “to the amusement is that while the educated characters engage in smart conversation, or Price’s silver-tongued narration hints at his egocentricity, absolutely silly events occur” — such as a victim who’s “blown up in the background”, or “lovers [who] plunge over a waterfall”. He notes that his “only complaint” is what he considers to be “an overly convenient (for the writers) ending that saves Price from having to make a difficult decision”, but I disagree; I find it a suitably open-ended finale to a story with an undeniably challenging moral compass.

It’s been pointed out that Guinness’s tour de force work as no less than eight supporting characters (including, in a hilarious bit, one woman) often overshadows Price’s perfectly controlled performance in the lead role; each actor ultimately deserves a different type of kudos, one no less than the other. Joan Greenwood, meanwhile, is suitably sibilant and cat-like as Price’s kindred spirit — an ambitious young woman who takes the first opportunity she sees for social ascension, but immediately regrets her decision. The cinematography (by Douglas Slocombe), sets, and direction (by Robert Hamer) all contribute to the success of the movie — one which film fanatics (and their loved ones) can safely return to time and again when seeking a generous helping of deliciously dark humor.

Note: As far as I know, this was the first comedy to feature one actor playing so many different parts, thus paving the way for similar work by Peter Sellers, Jerry Lewis, and Eddie Murphy, among others.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Alec Guinness as “the D’Ascoynes”


  • Dennis Price as Louis Mazzini
  • Joan Greenwood as Sibella
  • Douglas Slocombe’s cinematography
  • A remarkably clever, droll, bitingly witty script

Must See?
Yes, as a justifiably classic British comedy.

Categories

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links:

Sheik, The (1921)

Sheik, The (1921)

“When an Arab sees a woman that he wants, he takes her!”

Synopsis:
While touring in the Middle East, an adventurous white woman (Agnes Ayres) is abducted by an Arabian sheik (Rudolph Valentino) who insists he can force her to love him. Soon her anger begins to melt, especially when she faces an even worse fate at the hands of an evil bandit (Walter Long).

Genres:

Review:
Silent-era heartthrob Rudolph Valentino is, unfortunately, most closely associated with his title role in this horribly dated, incurably offensive “romantic adventure” taking place in the Middle East. The film starts off with refreshingly feminist overtones, as we’re introduced to the intrepid Lady Diana, who refuses to be bullied by anyone, or to take no for an answer — but her role is quickly degraded into that of a female victim who (in classic Stockholm-Syndrome style) eventually comes to love her captor. Meanwhile, Arabian culture (which, naturally, is conflated and homogenized here) is presented in both a patronizing and disrespectful fashion: “Where the children of Araby dwell in happy ignorance that Civilization has passed them by”, one early inter-title informs us; Arab women are either brides being sold on the market or dance-hall girls.

Naturally, you could argue that such culturally insensitive perspectives were par for the course at the time, and that one shouldn’t judge a film on the merits of the social climate within which it was made. With that said, then, how enjoyable is The Sheik on other accounts? Sadly, not very. Valentino’s performance is laughably one-note (his leering grin and arching eyebrows are a caricature of silent-era over-emoting), and the arrival of Adolph Menjou on the screen as Valentino’s long-time friend (a noted author) does little to alleviate one’s irritation at the offensive central storyline. Apparently this film’s sequel, Son of the Sheik (Valentino’s final role), is much better on many counts — so I’ll look forward to reporting back once I’ve seen it.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • A glimpse at Valentino in his most iconic role

Must See?
Unfortunately, yes — simply for its status as Valentino’s signature role. Listed as a film with Historical Importance in the back of Peary’s book. Available for free viewing on www.archive.org.

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Queen Kelly (1929)

Queen Kelly (1929)

“You think you can share the Queen’s bed? I’ll share him with no one!”

Synopsis:
A young woman (Gloria Swanson) living in a convent is courted by a prince (Walter Byron) who’s been forcibly engaged to marry a mad queen (Seena Owen). When the queen learns about Byron’s romantic interest in Kitty Kelly (Swanson), she banishes Kelly, who eventually ends up in an African brothel visiting her dying aunt (Florence Gibson), and facing her own enforced marriage.

Genres:

Review:
The final downfall of Erich von Stroheim’s notoriously challenge-filled directorial career was precipitated by his work as a writer and director on this epic love story, conceived by silent-screen star Gloria Swanson as a way to revive her own waning career (and brought to the renewed attention of moviegoers when a clip was screened by Swanson’s aging diva in Sunset Boulevard). Production on Queen Kelly halted midway through, and it was never completed; the version that exists thus offers merely a tantalizing glimpse of von Stroheim’s estimable talents and broader vision for the story. (Viewers interested in learning more about the film’s production history and restoration should check out any of the informative links below.)

It’s primarily the first third or so of the film that we’re left with — and what an exposition it is! We’re shown a mad queen taken to walking around mostly nude and carrying a white cat loosely draped over her bosom; a drunken playboy prince (not at all in love with the queen) racing to the palace in a chariot filled with gleeful prostitutes (“Come on Wild Wolfram! I’ve bet my nightie on you!”); and a coy convent girl who accidentally (?) drops her panties in front of the prince, then balls them up and throws them at him in a fit of anger. My goodness! What could possibly come next? From there, the storyline shifts to showing us the rapid blossoming of Byron and Swanson’s romance, with Byron nearly burning down the convent to get Swanson’s timely attention, eventually carrying her off to his bedroom in a scene filled with plenty of remarkably risque Pre-Code intimations.

Unfortunately, it’s shortly after the infuriated queen discovers Byron’s betrayal that the film (literally) begins to fall apart; the next scenes we’re shown (reconstructed in part from stills) take place in Africa of all places, and feel like they belong in a decidedly different film all together. (They actually hearken back to Swanson’s role the previous year in Sadie Thompson, set on a South Seas island.) Kelly’s enforced marriage to a demented older man — a scene that seems to go on forever, in a truly nightmarish fashion — is nothing short of surreal. There’s no telling, of course, what type of continuity von Stroheim could or would have offered between these two radically different settings, had he been given the opportunity; Queen Kelly instead remains a classic example of a semi-lost film which will forever be known primarily for its potential.

However, as indicated in my assessment above, the delightfully demented scenes that do exist in full are finely produced and acted. While there’s no denying Swanson (at 30) was too old to be playing a schoolgirl, she nonetheless brings just the right amount of coyness and romantic longing to her role; meanwhile, Byron makes a suitably charming prince, and Owen — while not given quite enough to do — projects appropriately haughty disdain and madness. The cinematography throughout is luminously atmospheric, and the royal sets are just as grandiosely baroque as one would expect for such a milieu.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Gloria Swanson as “Kitty” Kelly
  • Opulent sets
  • Luminous cinematography

  • Some creatively conceived inter-titles
  • A remarkably racy, memorable, ultimately bizarre screenplay

Must See?
Yes, for its historical relevance as von Stroheim’s final film, and Swanson’s silent-era swan song. Listed as a film with Historical Importance and a Cult Movie in the back of Peary’s book.

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London After Midnight (1927)

London After Midnight (1927)

[Note: The following review is of a non-Peary title; click here to read more.]

“Honest, Sir James — they’re dead people from the grave! Vampires is what they are!”

Synopsis:
A detective (Lon Chaney) tries to help solve the mysterious death of a man found shot with a suicide note. Five years later, when the man’s body is found missing, Chaney returns to his house, which is now inhabited by two mysterious vampire-like creatures (Lon Chaney, Sr. and Edna Tichenor).

Genres:

  • Detectives and Private Eyes
  • Lon Chaney, Sr. Films
  • Silent Films
  • Tod Browning Films
  • Vampires

Review:
In his Alternate Oscars book, Peary nominates Lon Chaney as one of the Best Actors of 1927/1928 for his work in both Laugh, Clown, Laugh and London After Midnight — yet the latter title has been a notorious “lost film” since 1967, and thus unavailable for viewing except in the form of a “creative reconstruction” using stills and relying upon the screenplay to flesh out the storyline. It’s highly possible that Peary remembers seeing the film in revival sometime before the final (known) print was burned in an electrical fire in MGM’s vaults — but of course his selection remains maddeningly difficult to verify, given that it’s impossible to actually see Chaney in action. (Stills of his gruesome make-up don’t quite count.)

However, I’m reviewing it briefly here simply given that it would most certainly be considered a “Missing Title”, if only a copy is ever found! Regardless of whether or not it’s a great movie — and many insist it’s actually not — its fame as perhaps the most sought-after lost film makes it automatically a “must see” for film fanatics, at least for the time being. Browning’s Mark of the Vampire (1935) was a remake, and similar spoilers abound, so I once again won’t say much about the plot — except to note that, from the reconstruction, it looks like a reasonably enjoyable, darkly comedic whodunit which any fans of Chaney’s work would likely want to see. (He plays both the detective investigating the murder, and the odd-looking man who has come to live in the deceased victim’s house.)

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Lon Chaney’s incredible make-up

Must See?
Yes, if it ever emerges, simply for its curiosity value!

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Tol’able David (1921)

Tol’able David (1921)

“You won’t be a man for a spell yet, David. But you’re tol’able… just tol’able.”

Synopsis:
A young man (Richard Barthelmess) in a close-knit West Virginian family must take on adult responsibilities when violent new neighbors (Walter P. Lewis, Ernest Torrence, and Ralph Yearsley) critically injure his married brother (Warner Richmond) and precipitate the death of his father (Edmund Gurney).

Genres:

Review:
I’ll admit to being slightly puzzled about the status of this popular silent melodrama as a beloved favorite of many, and as a film specifically selected for preservation by the National Registry as being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant”. It tells the rather simple tale of a pastoral existence rudely shattered by a family of bullying thugs (is there significance to their last name being Hatburn, so remarkably close to Hatfield?), paralleled by an adolescent’s desperate desire to come of age — in part to impress the pretty girl next door (Gladys Hulette). To that end, the sweet budding romance between Barthelmess (rightfully acknowledged as one of the most beautiful of all male silent stars) and Hulette remains the film’s primary selling point, though it’s overshadowed by numerous other melodramatic plot elements. Torrence is appropriately menacing as the main baddie of the piece, but his performance ultimately lacks nuance; I prefer his role as the villainous Moriarty in Sherlock Holmes (1932) instead.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Richard Barthelmess as David
  • Gladys Hulette as Esther Hatburn

Must See?
No. Listed as a film with Historical Importance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book. Available for free viewing at www.archive.org.

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Holy Matrimony (1943)

Holy Matrimony (1943)

“Don’t you understand? You’re burying the wrong man!”

Synopsis:
Desperately seeking to avoid media attention, a famous but reclusive painter named Priam Farll (Monty Woolley) assumes the identity of his deceased valet, Henry Leek (Eric Blore), and marries the woman (Gracie Fields) Leek had recently contacted via a matrimonial agency. His peaceful life of anonymity is soon disrupted, however, when an ambitious art dealer (Laird Cregar) begins to sell his latest paintings, and suspicions arise that “Priam Farll” isn’t really dead.

Genres:

Review:
Monty Woolley is perhaps best known for his starring role in Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman’s acerbically madcap play The Man Who Came to Dinner (turned into a film in 1942) — yet his titular performance as the too-nasty-for-words theater critic Sheridan Whiteside doesn’t display him in anything close to his best light. I much prefer Woolley’s Oscar-nominated role in the wartime adventure drama The Pied Piper (1942), as well as his work in this gentle “comedy of errors”, about a world-class painter so desperate to be left alone that he willingly adopts another identity altogether. While Nunnally Johnson’s Oscar-nominated screenplay (based on a novel by Arnold Bennett) strains credibility time and again, it presents such an appealing scenario in the unlikely marriage between Woolley and Fields that one willingly suspends disbelief and criticism.

Comedienne and singer Gracie Fields was once one of England’s most popular performers, and her appeal is in full evidence here. From the moment she mistakes Woolley for his valet and rescues him from a trip to the jailhouse, we can’t help breathing a sigh of relief for the good fortune Woolley — who’s accustomed to having all his needs taken care of by someone else — has chanced upon. Their marriage-of-convenience is nothing short of charming, thanks in large part to Fields’ unceasing good grace and common sense, and Woolley’s clear appreciation of said characteristics. The complications that inevitably ensue — including the appearance of Blore’s estranged wife (Una O’Connor) and grown sons, and Fields’ sudden need to earn additional money for house payments — simply allow Fields to show us once and again why Woolley’s character is a damned lucky fellow. (And fortunately, he knows it!).

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Gracie Fields as Alice
  • Monty Woolley as Priam/Henry

Must See?
Yes, for the lead performances.

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Man in the Iron Mask, The (1939)

Man in the Iron Mask, The (1939)

“To any other man in this kingdom, twin sons would be a blessing.”

Synopsis:
When cursed with the birth of twin sons, King Louis XIII (Albert Dekker) sends his second-born son away to live with his loyal musketeer, D’Artagnan (Warren William), and grooms his first-born, Louis, as the French dauphin. Upon learning of his brother’s existence, grown Louis (Louis Hayward) schemes to have his twin (also Hayward) “disposed of”, in the most diabolical way possible.

Genres:

Review:
It’s interesting to note that iconic horror director James Whale — best known for helming Frankenstein (1931), The Invisible Man (1933), and Bride of Frankenstein (1935) — was responsible for this adaptation of the third part of Alexander Dumas’ final novel about the loyal Musketeers of France, given that it shows little evidence of his distinctive stylistic presence. With that said, it remains a solidly enjoyable — if slightly over-long — adventure tale, and features a truly noteworthy set of lead performances by Louis Hayward as both despotic King Louis XIV and his exiled twin brother, Philippe. To an extent rarely seen in such portrayals, Hayward is utterly convincing playing two completely different, though physically identical, men: Louis is vile, narcissistic, and very likely psychopathic (though this is only gradually revealed), while Philippe is loyal, brave, and goodhearted. (It’s especially fun to see how Hayward subtly handles the moments when Philippe is pretending to be Louis.)

Also enjoyable is Joseph Schildkraut’s portrayal as Louis’ scheming right-hand man, Fouquet, who will seemingly do anything to achieve his ambitions, but who nonetheless reacts with appropriate alarm upon hearing Louis’ nefarious plans for his twin brother’s imprisonment. Joan Bennett is suitably beautiful and regal (but ultimately not all that distinguished) as the conflicted and confused Maria Theresa of Spain (who can’t figure out why her betrothed changes his personality each time she meets him); whenever the screenplay focuses on her romance with Louis/Phillip, things generally grind to a halt. Meanwhile, the musketeers themselves — D’Artagnan (William), Porthos (Alan Hale), Aramis (Miles Mander), and Athos (Bert Roach) — aren’t on-screen very much of the time, but do get to play a critical role later in the storyline.

Redeeming Qualities and Moments:

  • Louis Hayward as Louix XIV and Philippe

  • Joseph Schildkraut as Fouquet
  • Fine period sets
  • Atmospheric cinematography

Must See?
Yes, simply for Hayward’s performance(s). Listed as a Sleeper and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

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