The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934)

The Scarlet Pimpernel (Harold Young, 1934) The classic tale of the foppish member of the elite aristocracy who disguises himself to fight the despotic powers for the good of all. No, it's not Don Diego or Bruce Wayne. It's Sir Percy Blakeney, aka the Scarlet Pimpernel (Leslie Howard), master of disguise and master tactician, who, with his loyal League of the Pimpernel, in the case of this film, frees French noblemen from the ruffians of Robespierre during the French Revolution, circa 1792.  

Waitaminnit! Attendre! The ruffians of Robespierre WERE the common people! All too common as it turns out, as director Young and scripters Robert Sherwood, Lajos Biro and S.N. Behrman would have you believe, demonstrated by the common cruelty of the throng awaiting noble be-headings at the guillotine, distracting themselves with knitting, stuffing their faces, and the things most people do during opening acts at a country fair. Such very public gatherings—and executions—make it very difficult to do any serious rescuing, especially when you have the evil Chauvelin (Raymond Massey), the new ambassador to Britain and enforcer for Robespierre (Ernest Milton) himself, breathing down your neck. And necks were very fragile things during the Reign of Terror.

In other words, it's hard out there for a pimpernel.

But, wait, wait, wait. Hold on there, citizens. The Pimpernel isn't Batman. He isn't Zorro or Robin Hood. He's a member of the aristocracy fighting for the aristocracy. Those other guys are examples of the privileged fighting for the common man. The pimpernel doesn't give a pinch of snuff for them. Nope, he's protecting elites who've been caught up in the Revolution against monarchy, authoritarianism by both aristocracy and clergy, as well as against slavery. He's on the wrong side of History, but I suppose when allies, friends and relatives are facing a blade in the village square, higher ideals and an Age of Reason seem a little dull by comparison.

This is because the stories of The Scarlet Pimpernel were written by the Baroness Emmuska Orczy, who knew something of revolutions, he family having fled their native Hungary in 1868, fearing a peasant uprising. The Baroness settled in London, and married an artist named Montague MacLean Barstow, and although it was a happy marriage, Barstow's career as an illustrator did not keep the Baroness in the manner to which she had grown up accustomed. She began to write, somewhat successfully, but she didn't achieve any real success until the two collaborated on a play about the Pimpernel, based on one of her short stories. That play ran for four years, and her novelization of it became a best-seller, inspiring a continuing series of books, and allowed her to buy a villa in Monte Carlo, where she spent most of the remainder of her life.

So, the Baroness' sympathies weren't exactly with democratic ideals, preferring the joys of imperialism and militarism. So, of course, (given her history) she would side with the aristocracy, rather than with the peasants. After all, they can always eat cake. It's just that a guillotine is rather impractical to slice it with. So, no, the Pimpernel is not for the common good unless it's to preserve the status quo. He wouldn't do well in America.

But, then again, these days, he might.

But, where the Baroness did have a good idea was an invention that might have been partially inspired by the works of Edmond Rostan and Alexandre Dumas, that of the "secret identity" (that is taken for granted in today's super-suffused culture). In order to do "what must be done," the hero operates outside the law, which has every inclination to suppress him for their survival. And so, he must operate in disguise, live a double life, so that his actions cannot be detected by the behavior of his "other life." It is also to protect friends, family, and lovers from being used as pawns against him.

But, even here, the Baroness has an odd wrinkle—for Percy Blakeney, English baronet, is married to the Lady Marguerite (the spectacularly photogenic Merle Oberon), both French and aristocratic by birth, and even though her brother is suspected of being in the Pimpernel's infernal "League," she has no idea that her foppish husband could be the daring Pimpernel (doesn't she wonder about any unexplained absences? Could she be suffering from "Lois Lane blindness?"). Her suspected ties to the Pimpernel (oh, if they only knew) makes her just the sort of weapon that can be used against him, and so her friend, the Chauvelin coerces her to try and find out the true identity of his nemesis. At one point, she actually sends her husband into a trap and only realizes the truth and what she's done in time to warn him.

Of course, there wouldn't be a series of books if he got caught, and the black hat/white hat dichotomy is so starkly presented that no one in their right mind would favor Raymond Massey's fortunes over Leslie Howard's. And so, the Pimpernel persists into legend.

We seek him here, we seek him there, 

Those Frenchies seek him everywhere. 

Is he in heaven? — Is he in hell? 

That damned, elusive Pimpernel