If I Were King.

Review #2018: If I Were King.

Cast: 

Ronald Colman (François Villon), Basil Rathbone (King Louis XI), Frances Dee (Katherine DeVaucelles), Ellen Drew (Huguette), C. V. France (Father Villon), Henry Wilcoxon (Captain of the Watch), Heather Thatcher (the Queen), Stanley Ridges (Rene de Montigny), Bruce Lester (Noel de Jolys), Alma Lloyd (Colette), Walter Kingsford (Tristan l'Hermite), and Sidney Toler (Robin Turgis) Produced and Directed by Frank Lloyd (#099 - Mutiny on the Bounty (1935), #1321 - The Sea Hawk, and #1339 - Cavalcade)

Review: 

Based on the early 20th century play and novel of the same name Justin Huntly McCarthy that involved the noted French poet François Villon, it probably doesn't surprise you to see this film among the list of ones done in the 1930s when it comes to literary inspirations. It wasn't the first adaptation, as Fox Film did one in 1920 with William Farnum as Villon. John Barrymore took his crack at it in 1927 with The Beloved Rogue. A 1925 operetta adaptation was turned into a 1930 musical operetta film with Dennis King. Two further adaptations have followed since this film, with François Villon (a French 1945 film) and The Vagabond King (1956). Who better to do a historical drama than Frank Lloyd? Sure, he may not be the most noted name among famed folks with multiple Academy Awards, but Lloyd specialized himself as a reliable director in both the silent and sound era. He had been born in Glasgow, but he only became an actor after seeing his travels in Canada as a would-be rancher and telephone company worker turn to Los Angeles in 1913. Needless to say, he made a variety of films, with Berkeley Square (1933) being his favorite. If I Were King was actually made in the latter stage of Lloyd's career, as he would retire for the first time in 1946 before a brief comeback with Republic Pictures in the 1950s. A studio man in the most complimentary of senses, he did films for studios from Fox Film to Paramount to Warner Bros. Oh, and this is a film that saw a script written by Preston Sturges. Sturges had made his way to Hollywood as a contributor to dialogue and script work in the 1930s (having first served as a playwright on Broadway) with films such as The Big Pond (1930) and The Power and the Glory (1933). Two years after the release of this film, he would become a director by selling his script The Great McGinty for "ten dollars" and the rest is history. 

It probably isn't surprising to see that even the reign of King Louis XI can lend itself to interesting biodrama with a bit of action and light touch of comedy. Well, having Ronald Colman as the lead actor is a pretty big help, because he brings a great presence of dignity that you would expect from a man of his talents. This time around, playing a poet with elements of the scoundrel that makes a mostly interesting film about the nature of what it really means to say one could do things on the level of a king (defender of the faith, don't forget), especially when playing a loose interpretation of an author that no one knows the fate of after his banishment in 1463 (incidentally, Louis IX became king in 1461 and reigned until 1483). Rathbone provides the support required in an eccentric that plays along in the charade (it is a romanticization after all) in a way that generates some amusement while never forgetting his place on the throne and the ways that he maneuvers people like pawns on a chess board. The little game that the two play of seeing how one would do "if I were King" is really more than just a series of little royal hijinks, instead serving as a trial of pride, one where the King can play both observer and executor. Of course, the romance between Colman and Dee is meant to be the real game of guesswork, and they do make a fine pairing for what is needed beyond the illusions that arise from the film (one built on it because of the very nature of Villon's fate). The rest of the cast do just fine in support, all serving as pawns in this weird little game of "who's playing who" that range from winded father figures in France or friends of the once-low man in Drew or Toler. The 101-minute runtime goes without many hitches, setting up its key conceit within the first 40 minutes without dawdling, and the climax is apt enough to patch things out handily enough. So yes, it is a ham-handed telling of poet and king in who is really setting who up, but it is an enthusiastic film with a useful script, a servicable director and worthy lead performances in Colman and Rathbone to carry things over the finish line with plenty to recommend in the long run, as one would hope from a film of its ilk.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Private Life of Don Juan.

Review #1845: The Private Life of Don Juan.

Cast: 

Douglas Fairbanks (Don Juan), Merle Oberon (Antonita), Binnie Barnes (Rosita), Melville Cooper (Leporello), Benita Hume (Dona Dolores), Owen Nares (Antonio Martinez), Heather Thatcher (Anna Dora), Joan Gardner (Carmen), Gibson Gowland (Don Alfredo), and Barry MacKay (Rodrigo) Directed by Alexander Korda (#1678 - The Private Life of Henry VIII)

Review: 

If there had to be a swansong for an actor that you could appreciate for what it did to generate a proper sendoff, I think this one might be appropriate for an actor at the stature of Douglas Fairbanks. At one point in time, he was "The King of Hollywood", one who went from comedy roles to swashbuckling features that made him one of the most memorable acting presences of the silent era, and it comes from an actor who entered film at the age of 32 after years of acting in the theater. Perhaps fittingly, the movie was distributed by United Artists, which Fairbanks had help co-found in 1919. His escapades in the silent era (which included him serving as producer and writer on several works) worked well right to his final silent feature in The Iron Mask (1929), which actually had a few select moments with sound. The Taming of the Shrew (1929), his first sound feature, was not particularly successful, and he slowed down his output of features with his health slowly declining due to years of smoking; his son, Douglas Fairbanks Jr, also became an actor with moderate stature that his father oversaw for a time. So yes, it wasn't just a case of Fairbanks having an unsuitable voice for sound films, he just happened to already had his great peak come and go in the previous era.. Now, at the age of 51, he was recruited by director/producer Alexander Korda (having made films in Hungary, Vienna, Berlin, the United States, and France) and his company London Film Productions, which had received attention the previous year for The Private Life of Henry VIII (incidentally, Korda would do an adaptation of The Thief of Bagdad in 1940, just sixteen years after Fairbanks had starred in the last one). It was his last starring role (he had a cameo appearance in one more film), as Fairbanks died five years later of a heart attack in 1939.

The film is based on the 1920 play L'homme à la Rose by Henry Bataille, with a screenplay written by Frederick Lonsdale and Lajos Bíró. The legend of the character Don Juan had been covered before with plays by Tirso de Molina, an opera with music by Mozart, and even an epic poem. This particular version of Don Juan reflects the actor clearly: middle-aged and trapped by his own legend to the point where the image is what survives most more so than the man (which reminds me of the image one would prefer to have about figures in their lives, such as an athlete or maybe an old friend). In that sense, the filmmakers have made an interesting farce that briefly muses on the dilemma that occurs for all folks reaching middle-age: how does one know when to leave the spotlight gracefully? You have a guy who thinks the best thing to escape the challenges of old age and a long-running bit is to have people assume he is dead, only to realize that the image of a young Don Juan in glory is more suitable for Seville rather than admitting the actual image. In short: you have to grow up sometime, because the adversary for the film isn't even one person, it is the idea that time will pass one by without looking (unless one counts authors documenting his exploits with artistic license an enemy). Fairbanks is surrounded by a cascade of women that hides his lessened cavalier action (i.e. climbing one wall rather than a handful), since this is a romantic comedy. With a run-time of 89 minutes, it does start off a bit slow, but it eventually gets its footing together with light chuckles with a fairly game Fairbanks trying to coast through what is needed. Oberon and Barnes make up a capable list of would-be lovers that inspire a bit of interest for the vague sensibility the movie has about men and women. Besides, it is Hume that is the one involved for the rapidly developed climax, one who is desperate for anything to latch onto with her wayward partner. Cooper is the beleaguered companion to the proceedings, wry to the situation presented without dragging the proceedings into anything other than light humor. As a whole, it doesn't quite reach the heights of Korda's big hit with Henry VIII (despite having a bit less studio-bound atmosphere than that film), but it at the very least seems solid enough for light enjoyment with semi-effective charm that matches its star with a look upon one's last journey without turning into an eulogy.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.