THEY DIED WITH THEIR BOOTS ON (Warner Bros. 1941) Warner Home Video

When audiences recall the frequent on-screen teaming of Errol Flynn and Olivia DeHavilland, Raoul Walsh’s They Died with Their Boots On (1941) is most likely the film they remember best. Indeed, it would be the very last time these two co-starred in a movie together – putting a period, not only to their on-screen dynamism, but also rumors that their presumed off-camera love affair would end in marriage. De Havilland was the one to call it off, testing Flynn’s fidelity to his craft and his aspirations for the future. Asked by his co-star what he desired most out of life, Flynn’s thankless reply, “Why fame, of course,” left De Havilland cold. “It wasn’t enough,” she would muse decades later in a bit of reflection, “I wanted respect, for a job well done.” Sparks had ignited between De Havilland and Flynn on the set of Captain Blood (1935), and by the time the couple starred in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), by De Havilland’s own admission, after their frequent kissing scenes, “Mr. Flynn was having a little trouble with his tights!” Much has been made of Flynn’s prowess in the bedroom, with the disparaging moniker, “In like Flynn” to have stuck to the actor’s reputation after narrowly escaping a charge of rape in 1942. And although there would be other masterpieces in Flynn’s canon, without De Havilland at his side, the resultant adventures were not altogether satisfying for loyalists devoted to both stars.

They Died with Their Boots On is a sweeping saga, presumably about the life and times of General George Armstrong Custer (Flynn). In truth, there was very little historical accuracy captured in the Wally Kline/Aeneas MacKenzie screenplay. Not that it matters, but George Custer was not the pompous brash cadet of little talent and great ego who alienated his fellow cadets and made a mockery of his instructors at the prestigious military academy of West Point as depicted in the film. In fact, the real Custer proved an astute pupil, dedicated with a passion for warfare that was all too quickly exercised when his graduation was cut short by the necessity of gathering troops for the Battle at Bull Run. Distinguishing himself in that hellish confrontation, Custer was promoted by Major General Sheridan (Sidney Greenstreet) and thereafter embarked upon an aggressive campaign of battles – one victory after another, assuring his meteoric rise as a legendary figure in American lore. Along the way, Custer courted the elegant, Elizabeth Clift Bacon (DeHavilland). On celluloid their relationship proved to be anything but smooth, though it eventually evolved into one of the sincerest and ever-lasting unions in the confederacy. In life, the romance was a bit more straight forward, and not quite as eventful. In the movie, Custer retires from military life. Alas, his need to be at the forefront of a good fight soon becomes a strain on his marriage and Elizabeth realizes her husband’s place will always be on the field of honor. She concedes to allow Custer to rejoin the army at the start of the American Civil War, and, in the picture’s penultimate moment of bittersweet farewell, bids him goodbye, intuitively recognizing she will likely not see him again as he makes ready his ‘last stand’ at Little Big Horn.

Director, Raoul Walsh mounts this would-be historical epic on highly questionable revisions of historical texts, seamlessly blended into pure pulp fiction. Hence, the battle against Chief Crazy Horse (Anthony Quinn) is portrayed as a crooked deal between wily politico, California Joe (Charley Grapewin) and a spuriously absent corporation that desires to reclaim the lands Custer gave the Indians, launching into that full-scale systematic genocide of the Nation’s first peoples. Flynn, who plays Custer as though he is one-part machismo to two parts clever elegance, is enough of a man to occasionally hint at being the fop.  In tandem, he exudes the quintessence of masculine grace and a bon vivant’s easy charm, oozing sex appeal from every pore, but with a lithe touch of comedy factored in, easily to melt not only the heart of our heroine, but virtually every female patron in the audience. Such was the power of Flynn’s animal magnetism. Resident Warner stock players, Arthur Kennedy and Sidney Greenstreet deliver marvelous cameos that appear to have far more depth than is actually written into the material. Overall, despite its loose history in favor of a good romantic yarn, They Died with Their Boots On is ample film fodder for the Saturday matinee or delicious way to spend a Sunday night in front of the fire.

Warner’s DVD is quite impressive. Film grain is thick, though accurately reproduced as is the gray scale, rendered with deep, solid blacks and very clean whites. Some fading is obvious during scene transitions, fades and dissolves. But contrast is generally stable. Age-related artifacts are present, but kept to a bare minimum. The audio has been cleaned up and is presented at an adequate listening level. Bottom line: They Died with Their Boots On is an exhilarating adventure yarn to be enjoyed with a heavy grain of salt for its lack of authenticity.   

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

1