Captain Horatio Hornblower (R.N.)

Captain Horatio Hornblower (R.N.)* (Raoul Walsh, 1951) Supposedly C.S. Forester himself adapted his first three Hornblower novels to make the screen-story for this swashbuckling distillation of the Royal Navy's fictional hero. It is 1805, and his majesty has sent the HMS Lydia on a secret mission. England is at war with Spain and France, and Hornblower must enlist the aid of a mad South American dictator in the war efforts a world away. But, upon arriving, Hornblower's distaste for the assignment and the "El Supremo" (Alec Mango) has him violating the Admiralty's standard orders, and when he captures the massive El Natividad (commanded by a very young Christopher Lee), he is forced to turn over the ship to the mad-man. Heading for home, he finds out that Spain is now England's ally (oops!) and he must re-take the massive ship on open seas, risking his crew and an unwanted passenger, Her Ladyship Barbara Wellesley (Virginia Mayo), sister to tthe Duke of Wellington and betrothed to Admiral Leighton (Denis O'Dea).

The crew is very British (including a young Stanley Baker), but its Captain is played by the very American Gregory Peck,** ramrod-stiff and stoic, so even though the accent is wrong, the attitude is just so—Forrester's Hornblower is a stoic, constantly questioning himself and his failings, reflected in his constant lecturing and drilling of his crew. And Raoul Walsh is the perfect man to direct, as the action director has a keen eye toward the psychological and characters with complicated motivations. Peck has the attitude, but is a bit uneasy when called upon to display the comical aspects of the still-upper-lip Hornblower—his uneasy "harumphs" are constantly dubbed in to make more of them than Peck could convey on-set. But for the brooding and irritation (and the authoritarian air), Peck is fine.

The battles are well-choreographed for the times—one can practically see the wires yanking pieces of ship-railing past the players—and sometimes the falling masts and ropes get a little out of control, but the model-work and staging are excitingly done. A fine way to spend a rainy afternoon.

* The added "R.N." because the British version of the title included them, the American did not. As with the recent Master and Commander, nothing is made of Hornblower maybe having to fight the American Navy, as he might have seven years in the future.

 

** The screen-rights were acquired for a vehicle for Errol Flynn, but after Flynn's previous movies had poor ticket sales (and the actor was proving difficult to manage), other actors (including Burt Lancaster) were considered. Peck got the part. Lancaster would star in The Crimson Pirate the next year.

Hell Drivers

Saturdays are "Take out the Trash" Day

Hell Drivers (Cy Endfield, 1957) British feature directed by blacklisted American director Endfield—and the first to carry his actual name and not a pseudonym*—about the rough and tumble day-to-day of short-haul truckers, battling deadlines and each other to try and meet quota and be top-driver hauling ballast (gravel) on sub-standard equipment at speeds that are break-neck, even under the best of conditions. Each driver has to make at least twelve loads a day; if they don't, they're fired. Competition is so fierce that the other drivers aren't above sabotaging each other's rigs. Work-place harassment is just part of the job and a way of life.

Into this demolition derby come Joe Yately (Stanley Baker)—call him "Tom"—who's just served a year stretch in prison and is trying to make a new honest life for himself. A position is open at Hawlett's Trucking after a driver has gone through a bad accident and although the manager, Cartley (William Hartnell) is reluctant, his secretary Lucy (Peggy Cummins of Gun Crazy) intercedes on his behalf. Tom is taken on a training run and does okay, despite near-collisions with a couple of other drivers.

The other drivers are a motley crew: there's Scottie (Gordon Jackson), Ed (Wilfrid Lawson), Dusty (Sidney James), Tinker (Alfie Bass), and Johnny (Sean Connery), all rough types who aren't above intimidating Tom—it's all in fun, after all. More receptive is Gino (Herbert Lom), an Italian (Herbert Lom?) who's in love with Lucy and wants to give the new driver a chance.

Less friendly is Red (Patrick McGoohan), the driver foreman, who always sits at the head of the table—as a rib, the drivers let Tom sit at the head and Red knocks him off his chair when he enters the room. Red is the most reckless of the drivers, does eighteen runs a day winning him a gold cigarette case, and lets it be known that no—no one—will take that case away from him, even if he has to cripple the driver to do it.

The first thing you notice, given hindsight, is the cast, early in their careers, and before they achieved their biggest success in the 1960's. Sure, there's Connery and McGoohan (who'll ride the 1960's spy-craze), but there's also Jackson from "Upstairs, Downstairs," Lom and Alfie Bass, Sidney James from the "Carry On" films, and Hartnell would become the first "Doctor Who."

But, that's not all. Playing the waitress at the driver's mess is Jill Ireland. And when Tom goes home to try to make amends, David MacCallum plays his younger brother. That's an amazing group of young actors, briefly doing washing duties in the "kitchen-sink" era of British film-making. As a result, the most subtle of the actors is star Baker, while the rest of the cast do their best to garner attention to themselves.

Lom's accent might be a little thick, but the actor who does the most egregious over-acting is a surprising one—McGoohan. He'd be known for merely quietly smoldering with a less-is-more kind of acting during his starring days, but here he's at full villainous boil, manking about like he was Richard III, hunch-shouldered and bull-headed. You hope for him to get his comeuppance early, as its a little painful to watch. When throws away a cigarette, you expect it to explode off-screen.

That aside, Endfield keeps the action going almost constantly, making it a visceral movie. Sometimes too much so. The driving scenes are viciously under-cranked, giving it an almost comic effect, rather than causing white knuckles. By the way, the cinematographer is the storied Geoffrey Unsworth, who would move on to far greater things.

Still, it's interesting to see if only for the young turks who would burn up the screen in the next decade.

* Well, it's listed as C. Raker Endfield, a slight obfuscation from how he was listed on his American films.

The Guns of Navarone

The Guns of Navarone (J. Lee Thompson, 1961) Maybe I should do a series—"The Ones That Got Away." Somehow I managed to miss this one, an essential "action" film that "everybody" saw when it first came out, AND during umpteen playings on television. Not me. I managed to sit down and watch it straight through only recently. I do remember it from one particular Dick Van Dyke Show episode (Season 5, Episode 139-"You're Under Arrest") where Dick and Laura had a fight and Dick stomped out and went to a drive-in and fell asleep in the car and no one believed him because the movie playing was The Guns of Navarone. "YOU SLEPT THROUGH THE GUNS OF NAVARONE??!!" 

Such a thing was apparently unthinkable, as the line was used a few times during the episode with a cascading laugh ascension each time. It was, after all, at the time, the action movie to end all action movies.

"With so many geniuses," says Team Captain Keith Mallory (Gregory Peck), "how can we fail?"

Ask a silly question...get a two and a half hour answer. Particularly when the answer involves material supplied by Alistair McLean, from whose books nothing ever goes as planned and improvisation, no matter how well provisioned for, rules the day.

"With so many geniuses, how can we fail?"

There are these cannons, see?* They're caved into vertical cliff faces that have been daunting to regular forces.**  So, a team of specialists, cut-throats, and patriots form a surly group of cynics to make land-fall—extraordinarily uneasily—go up-country and meet up with resistance forces infiltrating a hummocky terrain populated by locals (who seem to be having a wedding every hour of the day) and an endless supply of Nazis, who seem to fall like ten-pins.

There's always a weak link in these groups. In this case, it's Major Roy "Lucky" Franklin (Anthony Quayle), who has brittle bones and seems to have the ability to attract shrapnel. The initial cliff-assault proves to be his undoing, although the rest of the team manage to make the climb without falling into the rear-projection. And while not quite The Dirty Dozen, conflicts pop up pretty quickly—Corporal Miller (David Niven) is the griper, constantly needling Mallory and protective of Franklin. Mallory has issues with Col. Andrea Stavros (Anthony Quinn) who holds a grudge for what happened to his family previously in the war. Then there's Brown (Stanley Baker), "the Butcher of Barcelona," who seems to be having trouble negotiating wish-bones and his own conscience.***

Director J. Lee Thompson (a good yeoman-like director, who only gets "arty" on inanimate objects) keeps things moving fast and the frame centered—despite being a "widescreen" Cinemascope roadshow—managing to make everything capable of fitting into a square TV-frame.

The hero of the story, though, is Carl Foreman, black-listed writer-producer, who migrated to Europe to make films. Despite the gung-heavery on display, his script still squeezes in enough anti-war sentiment and issues of conscience without slowing down the action any, even impressing crusty old John Wayne, one of the anti-communists who pressured him to leave the States. His "Guns" fits into the same cynical fox-hole as the earlier Awards magnet The Bridge on the River Kwai, which he had once worked on. 

Curiously, even though I missed the original, I still managed to see its sequel Force 10 from Navarone (which recycled quite a lot of the first film's climax) a couple of times.  That one came out a full 16 years after the first, just in time to catch such up-and-coming stars as Harrison Ford, Barbara Bach and Richard Kiel, and replacing Peck and Niven with Robert Shaw and Edward Fox, two (count 'em, two) British actors who seemed to fit the characters a little bit better.  

* Them bloody "Navaronian" guns

** Richard Harris gets the job of running down the odds: "First, you've got that bloody old fortress on top of that bloody cliff. Then you've got the bloody cliff overhang. You can't even see the bloody cave, let alone the bloody guns. And anyway, we haven't got a bloody bomb big enough to smash that bloody rock. And that's the bloody truth, sir."

*** Peck had an amusing homo-erotic spin on the story:  "David Niven really loves Anthony Quayle and Gregory Peck loves Anthony Quinn. Tony Quayle breaks a leg and is sent off to hospital. Tony Quinn falls in love with Irene Papas, and Niven and Peck catch each other on the rebound and live happily ever after."