THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON (a.k.a. PARADISE LAGOON): Blu-ray (Columbia, 1957) Twilight Time

What an extraordinary ‘little gem’ of a picture, director, Lewis Gilbert’s The Admirable Crichton (a.k.a. Paradise Lagoon, 1957) is; big-hearted, warm and tender, with the amiable Kenneth More as the eponymous ‘perfect servant’, stranded with a bunch of useless and toffee-nosed aristocrats on a deserted island, somewhere in the South Seas. The Admirable Crichton hails from an era in picture-making when suspension of disbelief still reigned supreme at the box office. Indeed, the movie was very loosely based on playwright and author, J.M. Barrie’s delightful stagecraft, made thrice into a movie before Gilbert’s venture; in 1918, directed by G. B. Samuelson, then again, as Male and Female from Cecil B. DeMille, barely one year later, and finally, as a screwball comedy starring Bing Crosby (We're Not Dressing, 1934). So, durable was the material, it also found its way to television in 1950, then again, in 1968. And while time has been rather cruel in expunging virtually all these adaptations from our collective consciousness, Gilbert’s is likely the most durable and endearing of the lot, even if it does veer wildly off the mark from Barrie’s original. Chiefly, the assets in this production – apart from its memorable cast, to be discussed herein in a bit – are William Kellner’s production design, and, Wilkie Cooper’s luminous cinematography. Conspiring with Kenneth More’s driving pleasantness, The Admirable Crichton is both a charmer and sobering reminder with a message about finding both one’s ‘place’ and one’s happiness in the world; the two, not necessarily reconcilable, particularly under the rules and requirements of England’s social caste system.  

Director, Lewis Gilbert has rather cruelly described Kenneth More’s appeal as not ‘particularly versatile’. “What he could do, he did very well,” admits Gilbert, “His strengths were his ability to portray charm. Basically, he was the officer returning from the war and he was superb in that kind of role. But the minute that kind of role fell out of fashion, he began to go down as a box office star.” Personally, at our house, we have always adored Kenneth More, whose Gerrards Cross, Buckinghamshire upbringing seems, at least in hindsight, to typify the very best of a tradition long departed, not only from our cinema landscapes, but the world in general; middle-class, stiff-upper-lipped Brit-based decorum; a certain, inbred nobility – never to the manor born, perhaps – but of noteworthy distinction nonetheless. More is a man of high honor and morally fine character. Rather ironic, that the two pictures More considered his best – 1961’s The Greengage Summer, which he described as ‘a happy experience’, and 1963’s The Comedy Man (1963) were also two of his biggest flops. The Admirable Crichton may be More’s finest hour as an actor, although he was also superb in William MacQuitty’s re-telling of the Titanic disaster, A Night to Remember, made and released one year after The Admirable Crichton. Yes, More then was a very busy guy and a relatively hot commodity on both sides of the Atlantic. That More’s reputation did not survive the end of the sixties is a genuine shame. Passing in and out of the public consciousness, More continued to appear in movies of dubious distinction throughout the late 1970’s; also, cameos in TV shows, dying in 1982, from Parkinson’s Disease. He was only 67.

The rest of the cast in The Admirable Crichton range from the superbly heart-felt, Diane Cilento as, the cockney downstairs maid and ‘simple girl’, Eliza, (also known as Tweeny), whose depiction of heart-sore fondness for Crichton is so unpolluted by class distinction, we suffer right along with Tweeny’s near loss of this man of her dreams. There is also Cecil Parker, ever the epitome of the aristocratic bumbler, Lord Henry Loam. Somewhere in the middle, we find Sally Ann Howes, whose glycerin blonde beauty transfers from glacial contempt for the lower classes to full-blooded woman in love with one such unworthy, as Loam’s eldest daughter, Lady Mary. And then, there is the delightful Martita Hunt, always an ornament of intelligent mischief as the Teutonic Lady Brocklehurst.  Even the lesser supporting players manage to distinguish themselves, despite given limited scenes to do so; Jack Watling as John Treherne, Peter Graves (George Brocklehurst), Gerald Harper (Ernest Woolley), and, Mercy Haystead and Miranda Connell, as Mary’s naïve sisters, Lady Catherine and Lady Agatha respectively.

The Admirable Crichton is set in the tail end of that glorious epoch in imperious British rule: 1905 – the age of men, King and country.  Under the rigors of this rigid social caste, there toils one William Crichton – the model of efficiency as the perfect English butler, serving a great house in London belonging to the Earl of Loam and his three daughters. Crichton is not alone in these duties, though he is acutely aware of ‘his place’ within this class-conscious hierarchy. As such, Crichton has taken a tender shine to the downstairs maid, Eliza, who desperately fancies him as her ideal.  The Earl is something of a progressive, determined to prove to his family the merits of all men being created equal. To this end, he orders a luncheon and tea held in the library, where his daughters, their beaux and the rest of his extended family shall engage in polite conversation with his staff. The afternoon proves an ill-fit for some more than others. Particularly, Lady Mary finds the incident distastefully shameful, as does the dowager, Lady Brocklehurst. Curiously, the most priggish of the lot is Crichton who, rather stuffily believes one’s station in life must be strictly observed.

After Lady Catherine is arrested for her passionate support of the suffragette movement, Crichton politely suggests the Earl and his family should vacation for a time aboard his yacht, cruising the South Seas – far away and long enough for the scandal at home to die down; also, to offer the family a much-needed respite. The Earl agrees with Crichton. His family have lost their way; ladies Catherine, Mary and Agatha spoilt by his affluence. So, the family boards ship, along with the girl’s suitors, the clergyman, John Treherne and Lord Ernest Woolley (George Harper). Alas, the yacht encounters very rough seas. After the engine boilers explode, the Captain (Eddie Byrne) orders everyone to abandon ship. Crichton stirs Eliza from her bed as the ship begins to take on water. Leaping from the ailing vessel into the sea, the pair are picked up by the boat reserved for the upper class. The other lifeboat is separated from view. By dawn’s early light, Crichton, Eliza, the Earl, his daughters, John and Lord Ernest Woolley discover they are quite along. Having turned quite calm after the storm, the sea now reveals a not-so-distant island. However, upon their arrival ashore, the aristocrats illustrate their inferior survivalist skills. John actually ties up their lifeboat to a large tortoise he believes to be a rock; the animal, dragging the vessel back into the water, leaving everyone truly stranded.

Crichton’s surveillance confirms everyone’s worst nightmare. They are truly isolated in this tropical paradise. At every turn, Crichton gingerly tries to get everyone else see to reason. They must abandon the rigidity of their social class and pool their limited talents if everyone is to survive this ordeal. Mary refuses to listen to Crichton. Indeed, she continues to boss Eliza around as though they were back home, ordering the girl to perform rudimentary tasks like braiding her hair. Realizing their survival is largely up to him, Crichton valiantly searches the island for food and shelter. His usefulness in starting a fire without matches impresses the Earl. Gradually, however, the Earl’s heart hardens, as Mary presses her father to assume control of the situation. After a restless night, sleeping on the beach, everyone is startled to find that their yacht did not sink in the storm, but is now drifting towards the rocks. The ship, having taken on too much water, and, with no one to steer her, runs aground. Crichton reasons he might salvage some of her cargo for their survival. While the others helplessly look on, Crichton strips down to his unmentionables and swims out to the scuttled ship, returning with a makeshift raft carrying necessary food stuffs.

Crichton is disheartened when Mary gets the Earl to order him back to the shipwreck for wholly unnecessary luxuries, like the Earl’s brandy and cigars, rather than to appreciate all the vital supplies he has already brought back. Although he complies with their demands, that evening at dinner, Crichton suggests one man must take charge of their situation entirely, and that this man should be him. Goaded by Mary, the Earl instead discharges Crichton. Eliza throws in her lot with Crichton, and the two depart. But the Earl and his party quickly realize what a grave mistake they have made. Lady Mary is hardly a cook; John, a terrible builder, and, Ernest brings down a tree that all both destroys all of their feeble efforts thus far. That night, there is no dinner, except half-cleaved coconuts. Miraculously, the smell of roasting pig catches everyone’s attention. Following the scent to the other side of the beach bulkhead, the Earl and his party discover Crichton and Eliza about to eat after Crichton has killed one of the wild boars for their dinner. The Earl capitulates to his servant’s prowess and efficiency; the others – all, except Lady Mary – following suit.

We advance, two years into the future. Back in London, Lady Brocklehurst holds a memorial service for those presumably lost in the shipwreck, unveiling a meaningless statue of the Captain in the foyer of the Earl’s manor. Meanwhile, on the island, things have progressed in an unlikely manner. In this topsy-turvy world, Crichton has risen like cream to the top of the hierarchy; beloved by the whole family who, under his tutelage, have all blossomed and developed their own set of extraordinary survivalist skills. Having been appointed ‘the Guv’, Crichton is now waited upon by the Earl, who has become a very gifted man servant in his own right. Lady Mary has transformed herself into the stealthy huntress, adept at foraging for food; her sisters and their beaux, also accomplished at building a small village where, with goods presumably salvaged from their abandoned yacht, they now reside with enough primitive luxuries to make even the likes of Robinson Crusoe blush, including a rigged water wheel to power the phonograph, using a conch shell as its amplifier. Life on the island is perfect. Indeed, everyone is contented – all, that is, except Eliza. It has not been lost on her that in the interim, Mary and Crichton have formed an attachment. Thus, on the evening of their 2-year anniversary, Crichton announces to all that he and Mary have decided to be wed.

The decision meets with the Earl’s blessing. Ernest, who desperately fancies Eliza, is rebuked by her. However, as everyone prepares for the wedding, a rescue ship sails past the island. Mary begs the family to reconsider what being saved will mean for her and Crichton. Indeed, there would be no place for them back home. Alas, the family, heart-sick for England, light the rescue pyre of kindling to signal the ship. Crichton reverts back to his station as the family’s butler. Upon their return to London, the Earl gives a grand party. But he lies, even to his dearest friends, about his importance in their survival; how he – not Crichton – assumed control to sustain everyone for two long years. Having written a largely fictitious account of their ordeal, Ernest has distinguished himself as the heroic figure. To any and all inquiries, Crichton has remained silent. Only Lady Brocklehurst is unconvinced. No doubt, she knows too well the limitations of her own family, and, even better, Crichton’s resourcefulness. Ordering the family, Crichton and Eliza into the parlor, Lady Brocklehurst confronts everyone with her suspicions. Ever the dutiful servant, Crichton manages to skillfully avoid telling the dowager the truth without exactly lying to her either – thereby, preserving everyone’s integrity. Mary is wounded by his loyalty to the family; more so when the Earl makes it clear he intends to dismiss Crichton with all speed to preserve the family’s dirty little secret in perpetuity.

At party’s end, Mary makes one last pitch to win Crichton’s heart. He politely declines her generous offer. It’s no use. In the world they know, and as it will, presumably, always exist, there is no place for them. The dream that was, so long as they were shipwrecked, is at an end. Unaware of the Earl’s plans to dismiss him from service, Crichton now explains to his employer how he intends to go ‘into business’ for himself with money earned in trade from the many pearls he extracted from all those oysters consumed while they were stranded on the island. Eliza again expresses her undying devotion to Crichton and he now realizes she has always had his best interests at heart, even while the others have grown fickle and silent in their ever-shifting alliances. Eliza’s is the one steadfast and pure love he can count on. The next morning, Crichton packs his bag and announces to the Earl he has decided to take with him the only woman whose character he truly values. Mary appears in the foyer, momentarily unsettling the family, still under the presumption she might scandalize the family by accompanying Crichton on his uncertain future. But now, Mary reveals she has been getting Eliza ready for their journey, dressing the once ‘common girl’ in her own fine clothes. As the carriage carrying Eliza and Crichton to the depot departs from the Earl’s manor, Mary remains vigilant on the front steps, unable to turn away from the man whom she will likely always love.

In this penultimate and very bittersweet finale, The Admirable Crichton attains its own truly memorable farewell to that once celebrated eon in English history when it seemed as though the ruling class would continue to reign supreme forever. Lewis Gilbert directs with a refreshingly crisp pace. Vernon Harris’ screenplay deftly updates J.M. Barrie’s original plot elements, although I personally think changing the title to ‘Paradise Lagoon’ for the U.S. release was a mistake, as it fails to typify the plot or purpose of this tale, while depriving its star, Kenneth More, of his (en)titled screen status. Evidently, the picture endured enough in the memory of the English to be resurrected as a musical, ‘Our Man Crichton’ in London in 1964 with More reprising his role. Long before this, and under its original title, the play had been a huge hit for its author/playwright, J.M. Barrie, running 144 performances in 1903 with William ‘Sherlock Holmes’ Gillette as the lead. At one point, during this movie’s preliminary casting, David Niven was strongly considered to headline the cast – a loss, reciprocated some years later, when Kenneth More, up for the part of Corporal Miller in 1961’s The Guns of Navarone, lost out that part to Niven, after asking for too much money to partake.  

The Admirable Crichton arrives on Blu-ray via Twilight Time’s association with Sony Pictures – the custodians of the old Columbia Pictures library. The results are quite pleasing, with a few minor caveats to be discussed herein. For starters, I sincerely wish TT had included the original British titles for this hi-def release, giving the viewer the seamless branching option to choose which ‘version’ to play. It’s also more than a little odd TT should have advertised this release under its British title, as the U.S. credits that open the movie now, clearly read ‘Paradise Lagoon’. Image quality throughout is mostly consistent, although there are a few instances where both color and contrast are severely wanting. The Columbia logo, as example, is very washed out. Ditto for the sequences employing rear-projection. Here, the color palette is pasty at best, and severely faded at its worst. Contrast is also very weak. Mercifully, there are only a handful of shots that rely on these obvious rear-projection mattes. The rest of the image is quite solid, with demure, but accurately rendered colors. Flesh tones are always pink-ish. But this disc shows off William Kellner’s production design and Bernard Nevill’s period costumes quite nicely. Age-related artifacts are non-existent, for a smooth visual presentation with a modicum of indigenous-looking grain preserved throughout. The mono DTS audio is adequate. Save a theatrical trailer and isolated music & effects score, there are no extras. Bottom line: The Admirable Crichton is a beautifully turned out and whimsical epitaph to a way of life, and picture-making style that, sadly, is no longer with us. An effortless way to spend a Sunday afternoon – falling under the spell of its formidable charms. Very highly recommended!

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

1