BLACKBEARD'S GHOST: Blu-ray (Walt Disney Pictures, 1968) Disney Club Exclusive
Peter Ustinov,
Dean Jones and Suzanne Pleshette acquit themselves rather nicely in Robert
Stevenson’s disposable family entertainment, Blackbeard’s Ghost (1968) – just one of the many ‘little nothings’ the studio hoped would
keep the Disney legacy alive. Immediately following the death of Walt Disney in
1966, the company was plunged into a curious dearth of creative projects. Truth
to tell, Walt had always played his cards close to his chest, and, in his
ever-ambitious pursuit of quality family entertainment, frequently allowed his
empire’s bottom line to veer into uncharted financial waters that
intermittently failed to break the flood gates of pure profit and, in fact, put
a considerable strain on his ability to do more. Walt was an artistic genius,
not a financial wizard. His brother, Roy, kept dibs on the bookkeeping. And
Walt, ever scanning the horizon for new frontiers, in his own lifetime, had
segued from animated shorts, to feature-length animation, then feature-length/live-action
picture-making, his own television serials, and finally, theme parks. To label
Walt as progressive is a grotesque understatement. Visionary, is more like it.
Depending on one’s point of view, the Walt Disney Co. after Walt either lost
their way or valiantly kept up the illusion the old master was still at the
helm, producing new entertainments, always first to ask and answer the question, “What would Walt do?”
In more recent
times, retrospectives on Walt’s life and career have threatened to dampen his
legacy and importance to the world of entertainment by misrepresenting a man
who wielded autonomy with an iron fist over the many creatives toiling in
service of his latest and greatest dream projects. Perhaps, Walt had his way. During the golden
era in Hollywood, virtually every great mogul did. And truer still, every ship
has (and needs) its captain. However, this should neither negate, nor taken
precedence over Walt’s monumental achievements, spanning virtually every facet
in modern pop culture. He not only entered, but conquered, every medium. And
lest we forget, here was a man whose ultimate quest in life, despite his
pundits, was to disseminate goodness. Even his dedication to Disneyland inaugurates
a Fantasyland devoted to the children of the world. In Walt’s time, such
sweetness and lighter-than-air confections were always afforded the ‘A’ list
treatment under his auspices; Walt, believing such attention to detail could
only benefit the company as a whole – if not immediately, then certainly into
the future.
Blackbeard’s Ghost may or may not be exactly what
Walt had in mind, had he lived to see his alumni, Don DaGradi and Bill Walsh
tackling Ben Stahl’s charming little book, all about a scurvy pirate,
inadvertently resurrected by a track and field coach in desperate need of some
reformation and a pep talk for his ailing team. Walt would have loved the
casting, though; bon vivant, Oscar-winning actor and world-traveler, Peter Ustinov
as the headlining lusty pirate; Dean Jones, as newly arrived athletics
director, Steve Walker, and, Suzanne Pleshette as his likely paramour and
school psychologist, Jo Anne Baker. Other note worthies in this troop; Elsa
Lanchester, lampooning as the flighty Emily Stowecraft; Richard Deacon, a very
stoic college Dean Roland Wheaton, and, Joby Baker, as a thoroughly devious
small-time hood, Silky Seymour. Were
that it had debuted in 1958 rather than ’68, and Blackbeard’s Ghost might have been a blockbuster; the button-down
cleanliness of the Eisenhower generation in full swing and thoroughly in
keeping with the picture’s anodyne good nature. Alas, the ground underfoot was
not nearly as self-assured or light-hearted a decade later; the tone in
American movies, decidedly moved on and away from extoling the virtues of
honest living and the American dream.
There is not
much of a story to Blackbeard’s Ghost;
the DaGradi/Walsh screenplay effortlessly tripping from one sight-gag to the
next with the most threadbare of connective tissue to move the story along.
Perhaps the point in the exercise is that no more depth of plot or character
development is really necessary. What we have here is a case for ‘star power’.
The movies that followed Walt’s death may not have consistently endeavored to
go for the really big names above the title, but the talents on tap are always
easily trademarked and instantly recognizable at a glance. We know what we are
in for from Peter Ustinov: basically, a jolly Roger of a good time with bursts
of playful bombast, tempered by the actor’s ability to know exactly when to
pull in the reigns, adding more nuanced bits of business to his schtick. Dean
Jones is affable enough; Disney’s answer to the Sport n’ Shave Ken Doll school
of leading men. Jones never tires out our patience and, at least for some, he
remains wholesome eye-candy – the kind young girls of a certain generation took
home to mother, sincerely hoping she too would not immediately want to keep him
for herself. Suzanne Pleshette is a little harder to peg. Lest we forget, here is
an actress who played the rather mysterious Annie Hayworth in Hitchcock’s The Birds (1963) – the spurned sexpot
angle, tempered by amiable world-weariness. In Blackbeard’s Ghost, Pleshette is, strictly speaking, ‘the good girl’ – also to remain
‘marginally’ above it all as she dodges advances from Michael Conrad’s beefy
football coach, Pinetop Purvis while equally perplexed by Steve’s seemingly
shaky mental acuity. He talks to himself – a lot – and even more curious,
appears to be having whole conversations with the ‘invisible man’. So, what is
a gal in love to do?
Blackbeard’s Ghost immensely benefits from Peter
Ellenshaw’s superb matte paintings of a coastal village in Maryland when, in
reality, cast and crew never left the Disney backlot. The Oscar-winning matte
artist really does not get a lot of credit these days, but in his time,
Ellenshaw was much sought after for his miraculous paintings on glass,
seamlessly re-photographed with live-action foreground footage to extend these
fictional screen worlds into the infinite. An Ellenshaw matte is iconic, from
his beginnings on Alexander Korda’s Things
to Come (1936) and Powell and Pressburger’s haunting masterpiece, Black Narcissus (1947) to his
breathtaking Roman vistas achieved on MGM’s Quo Vadis (1951). Still, he
is best recalled today for his alliance with Walt; begun on 1950’s remake of Treasure Island, 1954’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and,
1964’s Mary Poppins, for which
Ellenshaw justly won the Academy Award. After The Black Hole (1979), Ellenshaw retired, but came out for one last
hurrah, contributing mattes on 1990’s Dick
Tracy. His work on Blackbeard’s
Ghost absolutely sets the tone of the piece; Coach Walker, driving his
Thunderbird convertible along a moon-lit, but otherwise darkened road, past a
row of spooky tall houses, a New England-ish church steeple, and finally, down
a coastal winding road to connect the mainland to a small island and Blackbeard’s
Inn, presumably reassembled from spare parts taken from various tall ships
sunken in the harbor – all of it, an Ellenshaw painting. It is a pity the
live-action sets assembled by Carroll Clark and John B. Mansbridge never
entirely live up to the moodily magnificent appeal of these establishing shots;
the rest of the picture brightly (and rather flatly) lit and photographed like
a television special by cinematographer, Edward Colman.
After a strange
main title sequence, the credits laid over outtakes from the shipwreck in Swiss Family Robinson (1960) and weird
harpsichord interludes composed by Robert F. Brunner, Blackbeard’s Ghost begins in earnest with Steve Walker’s arrival in
the small seacoast hamlet of Goldolphin. He is met at the local gas station by
the diminutive Gudger Larkin (Hank Jones) whose enthusiasm as the college’s
shot-putter knows no bounds. Larkin offers to show Walker the way to
Blackbeard’s Inn. Actually, any idiot could find it, the road ahead leading
only to one destination. Larkin and Walker arrive on the eve of a charity
bazaar hosted by the female descendants of Capt. Edward Teach. The Daughters of the Buccaneers are
desperate, as local crime boss, Silky Seymour intends to level their beloved
inn and build a lucrative casino on its picturesque property. Momentarily
parting company with his young charge, Walker mistakes Jo Anne Baker as the
proprietress of the ‘kissing booth’ and promptly takes advantage of that ‘dollar
a peck’ promotion. He further discovers the inn’s manager, Emily Stowecraft is
a bit of a loon, and the rather lugubrious Dean Wheaton has virtually no faith
in his track-and-field team.
During the
auctioning off of ancient relics to raise money for the inn’s preservation,
Walker also runs afoul of Silky Seymour, whose goon squad has begun to
intimidate the other attendees, otherwise to have bid on these antiques. To
keep the auction going, Walker repeatedly starts the bids high; the net result,
the ladies raise a cool $9000 by its end; a far cry from the $35,000 needed to
stave off Silky’s repossession, but a noble gesture nonetheless. A grateful Mrs.
Stowecraft puts Walker up for the night in Blackbeard’s bedroom. In short
order, he discovers a parchment book of spells and incantations, belonging to Blackbeard’s
10th wife, Aldetha Teach, hidden in the hollow wooden handle of a
bed warmer. Amused by the legend, Walker recites the spell to resurrect
Blackbeard from purgatory, but is startled when the pirate’s ghost suddenly
reappears.
Contrary to the novel’s
depiction of Blackbeard, Ustinov’s miraculous reincarnation is as a socially-inept
drunkard, hardly malicious, but slovenly and a deviant to boot. His only chance to escape purgatory is to
perform a good deed. As no one except Walker can actually see Blackbeard, he
reluctantly agrees to at least try and help the old ghost achieve his freedom
from otherworldly exile. It will not be easy. Blackbeard is the proverbial ‘fish out of water’; amused by Walker’s
sports car and attempting – badly – to take over driving it along the lonely
open road as Walker tries to regain control of the steering wheel. Speeding past
a police officer (Kelly Thordsen) on motorcycle, Walker is pulled over as a sidetracked
Blackbeard looks on. Since the officer cannot see Blackbeard, the old pirate
indulges in a bit of mischief, totaling the motorcycle. This promptly lands Walker
in jail.
Angered by this
turn of events, Walker reminds Blackbeard he must perform one good deed for his
curse to be broken. To this end, Walker encourages Blackbeard to divulge the
secret location of his buried treasure; enough gold to spare the Daughters of
the Buccaneers their current crisis. Sadly,
Blackbeard sheepishly admits the rumors about his loot have been greatly
exaggerated. In fact, there never was
any buried treasure. During his
lifetime, he spent what ill-gotten gains he made, indulging his own proclivities
for wine and wenches. The next day, Walker is released on probation, but is
promptly informed by Dean Wheaton that unless he is able to turn around the
school’s horrendous losing streak in track and field he can pack his bags and
leave Goldolphin for good. Meanwhile, asked to spy on Walker’s progress, Jo
Anne decides to get to know Walker better over dinner at Silky’s slick seaside
resort. During dinner Blackbeard, noticing there is gambling and book-making
going on in the backroom, swipes the charity auction’s $9000 from Jo Anne’s
purse, placing a bet on Goldolphin’s track team to win. Amused, and assuming Jo
Anne has placed the bet, Silky agrees to match the offer, fifty-to-one.
Too bad,
Goldophin’s track team is a sorry troop of scrawny boys, outclassed by the
rather robust and beefy competitors from three out-of-state colleges. Blackbeard
informs Walker not to worry, as he will intercept virtually all of the events
and assure, via cheating, Goldophin’s boys win. A moralist at heart, Walker orders
the old ghost to leave well enough alone. But Blackbeard, undeterred by his
indignation, and furthermore determined to do his ‘good deed’ interrupts every competition
at the meet. As the gathered fans look on with surprise, Goldophin’s boys beat
out the competition with effortlessness. This thoroughly impresses even Dean
Wheaton and infuriates Silky, who cannot believe he now owes the Daughters of
the Buccaneers’ enough money for them to buy back the deed to the inn. Welching
on his promise, Silky is confronted by Walker and Jo Anne with Blackbeard –
still invisible to all – in tow. Walker threatens to tear Silky’s place apart,
despite being surrounded by his goon squad. Pleased, Silky offers to pay back
the original $9000 to Jo Anne and Walker. If they wish, they can attempt to win
the rest of the monies needed by trying their hand at his roulette.
Walker agrees,
knowing Blackbeard will surely be able to manipulate the wheel in their favor.
Much to the angst and bewilderment of the game’s croupier (Herbie Faye), the
chips fall precisely on the winning numbers every time. To offset their
progress, the croupier uses an electronically triggered magnet to send the
wheel’s marble careening to an opposing number. Having lost practically
everything in a single spin, Walker decides to gamble what’s left on another
spin. Blackbeard disengages the electronic magnet, reattaching the leads to the
croupier’s metal sock clips. Thus, when the croupier tries to set off the
device again, he instead electrocutes himself. As they are cashing in their
winnings, Walker and Jo Anne are met by Silky and his goons who blatantly
threaten the pair unless they surrender their money. An all-out brawl breaks
out, Blackbeard unleashing his might, leveling Silky and his men.
Meanwhile, the
clock is ticking on the deed to the inn. If it is not paid in full by midnight,
the Daughters of the Buccaneers will forfeit their rights to the property.
Arriving in the nick of time by boat, Walker and Jo Anne present the banker
with the necessary funds. Knowing full and well who is responsible for saving
the inn, Walker has the ensemble of elderly ladies recite the original spell in
unison, making Blackbeard’s presence known to all. Tearfully reunited with his
kin, the old ghost burns the deed to the inn in a firepit, kissing a smitten
Mrs. Stowecraft’s hand before rowing into an approaching fog. From just beyond,
we hear the voices of Blackbeard’s unearthly crew, bewildered but eager to
rejoin with their captain after an absence of nearly a century. The movie ends
with a brief glimpse of a misty schooner materializing through a heavy veil of
fog, and Blackbeard, declaring loudly he has returned to his former haunt as a
much-celebrated pirate.
On the whole, Blackbeard’s Ghost is an enjoyable romp,
although today it is likely only the very young – or those old enough to have
remained young in heart – who will find it amusedly quaint. Ustinov’s
performance is undeniably the best thing about the picture. He insinuates
himself into the role with devilish aplomb, a real salty characterization
teeming in jovial wit and sarcasm sailing full steam in tandem. There is really
nothing to the rest of it; the antiseptic romance between Walker and Jo Anne, a
real fanny-twitching time-filler at best. Dean Wheaton’s instant conversion,
from having virtually no faith in his track-and-field team to devout believer
in their abilities, rings with the tinny echo of extreme contrivance a la the
ole Disney-fied ilk. This worked for many decades, preying on the naiveté of
youth and promised myth ascribed as the American dream for the rest of us, that,
at least in part, suggested the pure of heart, through ‘hard work’ and
undiminished ‘faith in the future’ could be justly rewarded – a dream still a
wish that the heart made, and, the world at large would ostensibly validate. If
only this were truth itself. But I digress. Blackbeard’s Ghost is fun, heartfelt and frothy. It makes
absolutely no sense. Then again, so much of cinema relies on our suspension in
disbelief. Good for a gander, though not much else, if you love the innocent days
and vintage Disney’s live-action output, you will want to snatch this one up.
Blackbeard’s Ghost is another Disney Club Exclusive
selling for big bucks via third party sellers on Amazon for those of us living
outside of the U.S. If the wallet will stand it, then the purchaser is
decidedly rewarded with an exemplary 1080p transfer. For decades, Blackbeard’s Ghost has looked awful on
home video; cropped and grainy, and, riddled in age-related artifacts, with wan
colors and a lot of digital noise to boot. What can I tell you? Disney Inc.
decidedly lacked a soft spot for the movie…until now. This Blu-ray release is
superb. Not only has the movie been remastered in its proper aspect ratio; it
also sports a bold and fully saturated color palette, capped off by some lovely
indigenous film grain and bang-on perfect contrast levels. The image is smooth
and solid, perfectly blending Peter Ellenshaw’s mattes with the life-action
footage. The one shortcoming occurs when director, Stevenson relies too heavily
on the studio’s patented sodium matte process to depict Dean Jones driving his
convertible.
The sodium matte
process was adept at concealing the edges that separated the two layers of
film, shot under decidedly different lighting conditions. The discrepancy here
is in color and contrast; Dean Jones and his various passengers, looking
slightly faded with exaggerated pinkish flesh tones while the background matte,
depicting the road behind the car, very blue-grey by comparison. Could some
modest color correction have been applied to minimize these anomalies? Perhaps,
although overall, the results probably looked this way when the movie was
projected theatrically in 1968. So, we give it to Disney Inc. for remaining
true to the time and technologies relevant then. The audio is 2.0 mono and
adequate, though only just. As with any Disney Club exclusive, this one has
been afforded NO Extras. Bottom line: solid transfer of a mediocre movie. Judge
and buy accordingly.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
3
VIDEO/AUDIO
4
EXTRAS
0
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