THE SCARECROW OF ROMNEY MARSH: Blu-ray (Walt Disney, 1963) Disney Club Exclusive

Regaled in the grand fashion Walt Disney himself regarded as the epitome of family entertainment, and, afforded production values befitting a full-length live-action feature, director James Neilson’s The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh (1963) has had a colorful history to say the least. It was, of course, based on the legend and legacy of Dr. Christopher Syn, a cleric by day and dashing Robin Hood-esque smuggler under the cover of night, who dared plunder to sustain the poor and over-taxed in Dymchurch, his beloved corner of the English realm. Shot at Pinewood Studios in England, and produced with a refreshing air of adult sincerity – thematically, it still packs a wallop today, even for those already outgrown their short pants, while simultaneously functioning as spookily lit tale of the macabre sure to rattle the kiddies. The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh was first conceived as a 3-part mini-series for Disney’s own ‘Wonderful World of Color’ (Walt’s successor to his original Disneyland TV franchise on NBC). Edited to accommodate commercial television broadcast lengths (roughly 40+ minutes per episode), the mini-series stars noted English actor, Patrick McGoohan as Syn, the masked, crusading fanatic for freedom and justice. Stocked full of English talent, including George Cole (the Scarecrow’s right-hand, Mipps), Sean Scully (John Banks, the younger heir of Squire Banks, played by Michael Hordern), and Geoffrey Keen (of James Bond fame, as Gen. Pugh), the episodic structure of each week’s installment presented something of a minor challenge to Walt after the creative decision was made to re-edit the footage into a theatrical release, preceding its American TV debut on July, 9, 1964. Retitled Dr. Syn: Alias the Scarecrow (1963), the Brit-release was block-booked as Walt’s big Christmas offering, along with The Sword and the Stone (1963) and shown all across Europe, Central and South America until 1966.
Interestingly, there was no U.S. theatrical release until 1970, when the picture was heavily reedited and renamed yet again – as Dr. Syn: The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh – this time, double-billed with reissues of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) and Treasure Island (1950).  And while this version too did solid box office, by the time the picture had its home video debut, the Scarecrow’s iconic cackle had been removed from Terry Gilkyson’s title song. While the VHS release retained the structure of a feature film, as well as the credits created for the British theatrical release (which differed from the TV credits on Wonderful World of Color), materials shot for the U.S. 60’s TV version, excised for all of the theatrical re-issues, was reinstated to expand the runtime on home video.  Even more bizarrely, Disney Inc. would regularly air The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh as a 2-parter (basically with the original middle episode discarded) for its newly inaugurated TV programming – Disney’s Wonderful World (1979) and later, The Disney Sunday Night Movie (1980-1995). With the advent of cable television, and Disney’s own foray into its exclusive channel, The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh all but vanished from public view, intermittently to re-appear, re-broadcast in its various cuts. After its VHS home video debut, The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh became a highly sought-after commodity for collectors, chiefly because of its scarcity. And thus, when DVD launched, The Walt Disney Company made a limited edition 2-disc collector’s tin available, containing both the original U.S. 3-part broadcast version – in 1.33:1, retaining Walt Disney’s original introductions from The Wonderful World of Color, plus the original re-edited British theatrical cut, reframed in 1.66:1.
Before delving into a synopsis of the movie itself, The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh is owed some clarity, as Walt references Dr. Syn as a mysterious historical figure, when in reality, Syn was a figment born of the imagination of author, Russell Thorndike, appearing in several sensational novels, and later, lent even further credence as a mythical figure of the 18th century by author, Matthew Brough. The literary Syn is described as a ‘brilliant scholar’ and ‘rousing preacher’, and one of the most accomplished swordsmen, riders, and seamen in all of England. Betrayed in love, Syn ultimately abandoned his calling to pursue an expedition of vengeance across the world, returning decades later to Dymchurch-Under-the-Wall as a seemingly quiet country parson, but thereafter invested by night to protect his parishioners – many of them smugglers - from agents of the King's Revenue.  Thorndike’s first novel sets the birthplace of Christopher Syn as Kent, in 1729. After his father and brothers are killed at the Battle of Culloden in 1746, Master Syn also loses his mother from a broken heart, and, is reared by an elderly uncle. Ten years later, Syn meets Mr. Mipps, whom he saves from the King's Revenue. While studying at Oxford, Syn falls madly for Spanish beauty, Imogene Almago whom he gallantly defends in a duel against Bully Tappitt, whom he mortally wounds. Syn and Imogene are wed in a double ceremony to include his best friend, Tony Cobtree and his lady-love, Caroline Gordon.  All retire to Dymchurch where Syn becomes the town’s vicar.  Alas, the quiet life is not for Imogene, and, upon running off with Nicholas Tappitt (yes, Bully’s brother), Syn succumbs to the first of many lovelorn manias. It is later revealed Imogene bore Syn a son, erroneously believed to be Tappitt’s. The Cobtree’s also have a child – Charlotte, who returns in subsequent Syn novels as a fully-grown adult woman.
Syn's obsession to find Nick and Imogene leads him, first to Spain, then America. Alas, Syn’s ship is sabotaged by ‘Black Satan’ – a pirate, whom Syn dispatches in a duel, becoming the new pirate captain, ably abetted by his old friend, Mipps. Syn’s journey across the American wilds, in search of Nick and Imogene, is masked by Mipps, who arranges for ‘an accident’ to befall their ship, thus eliminating all witnesses who could attest to their piratic acts. From here, Syn and Mipps share several adventures with the Natives along the Mississippi, including Shuhshuhgah, who becomes their loyal ally. Discovering Nick, a whaler, Syn – calling himself ‘Clegg’ – becomes a ship’s harpooner. But the voyage leads to not, and Syn now discovers Nick has made it to Kingstown, Jamaica, sailing a fast ship – the St. Nicholas. Still calling himself Capt. Clegg, Syn takes over the ship and its crew and thereafter embarks upon a new infamy as the most feared pirate of his day. A failed mutiny, ending with the mutineer’s tongue being cut out – the man, left to die on a coral shoal - concludes Syn’s bitter thirst for revenge. He now elects to retire to Dymchurch as an obscure country clergyman. The ship dashed to pieces on the rocks off during a hellish storm, Syn emerges as the sole survivor and is welcomed as the new vicar by his old friend, Tony Cobtree, at present, the Squire of Dymchurch.  
The events as depicted in Walt’s trilogy pick up the story after Syn is rejoined by Mipps, now, the church sexton and town’s coffin maker. In the novels, it is Mipps who first becomes involved in smuggling, forcing Syn to step in. But in the Disney version Syn remains the leader of this marauding band of local parishioners, desperate to sustain themselves despite the King’s heavy taxation. To spare all from the hangman's noose, Syn organizes the disjointed rabble into a force to be reckoned with, adopting the persona of ‘the Scarecrow’ to intimidate the King’s soldiers. The Disney version makes no reference to Nick or Imogene, or their secret return to England. Meanwhile, Charlotte Cobtree, who is supposed to have fallen in love with Syn in the books, in the Disney version, instead, is very much in love with Lt. Philip Brackenbury (Eric Flynn) – one of the King’s guard whose loyalties to the maniacal Gen. Pugh – assigned by King George III (Eric Pohlmann) to destroy the Scarecrow – are waning. In the novels, Charlotte dies after saving the Scarecrow from an attack, sending Syn into another nightmarish retreat into darkest despair. Syn eventually hunts down Imogene. But by then, she is dying of typhoid and he forgives her. She then reveals the true identity of their son to Syn and confesses the boy was abandoned by Nick somewhere in America. Upon Imogene’s death, Syn dispatches Shuhshuhgah to America to find the boy, yet rather disturbingly, neither is ever heard from again in the Syn novels. Nick is arrested, confesses to being the pirate ‘Clegg’ on Syn’s promise he will rear Nick’s daughter as his own.
Again, Walt’s version of events greatly differs from these books. We lose all of the aforementioned backstory, the tragedy, transformed into an adventure story to pick up Syn’s double life as the kindly Vicar of Dymchurch by day, and, his alter ego - the Scarecrow – by night. From here on in, the Disney version bears no earthly resemblance to the events as depicted in the subsequent Syn novels. There is no daring do against the British Navy and the Prince of Wales; no reference to Syn becoming part of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, no engagement with rival smuggler, Dolgenny, or references to Maria Cobtree and her husband, who are placed in peril by the French Revolution, spared certain death by Syn and Maria’s sister, Cicely, who also sacrifices herself for the Scarecrow. This results in Syn thoroughly losing his mind. He becomes hardened, ruthless and blood-thirsty. It fits Walt’s bill for family entertainment, I suppose, that this last act of the Syn literary legacy, while an exhilarating – even epic tragedy of Shakespearean proportions – remains unexplored in the Disney version. In the books, we are introduced to Capt. Collyer, a brilliant military strategist who deduces Syn, the Scarecrow and Capt. Clegg are one in the same. Syn, now thoroughly mad, is defeated by Collyer; the Romney Marsh smuggler’s ring broken down to bedrock.  Mercifully, all are spared the hangman’s noose when Collyer is called away and eventually defeated in the Napoleonic Wars – Syn’s secrets dying with him.  
Part One of Disney’s The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh deals with Gen. Pugh’s arrival in Dymchurch – sent by the King to weed out the Scarecrow’s influences and bring this rogue to justice. After several adventurous skirmishes, Pugh’s men remain befuddled. By day, Syn is the congenial sort whose friendship with Mipps and Squire Thomas Banks (Michael Hordern) affords him a certain air of added respectability. As the pillar of his community, Syn keeps a careful watch on all of Pugh’s activities, even under the watchful eye of Lt. Philip Brackenbury, who, truth to tell, is more preoccupied wooing the Squire’s daughter, Katharine (Jill Curzon). In Part Two, Syn encounters a traitor in his midst: Joe Ransley (Patrick Wymark). The slovenly and oft drunken Ransley is a part of the Scarecrow’s motley crew. Yet, although Ransley knows not the Scarecrow’s true identity, he draws undue attention to his own illegal activities after, being in the rears on his taxes, he is suddenly able to pay all debts in full. Pugh suspects Ransley of being a smuggler and threatens him with death, unless he can infiltrate the Scarecrow’s organization and lead him into an ambush. Ransley is then pressed by the Scarecrow to reconsider his loyalties.
Suspicious of Syn, Frank Fragg (Alan Dobie) – the local prosecutor, plots a seedy revenge. However, he is taken captive by the Scarecrow’s men and led to believe the Scarecrow has hung Ransley as a traitor. It is later revealed, Ransley was left unconscious, but otherwise alive, and told by the Scarecrow to retreat to parts unknown or face certain death. In Part Three, the Scarecrow rescues the Squire’s estranged son, Harry (David Buck) and an American smuggler, Simon Bates (Tony Britton). Intent on seeing these men to freedom, Harry and his father and brother are first, briefly reunited. Alas, Pugh has anticipated this, and an ambush occurs in which Harry and Simon are both taken prisoner to Dover Castle and repeatedly tortured to make them reveal the true identity of the Scarecrow. As neither is willing to betray a confidence, Syn now plots, with Mipps assist, and Brackenbury’s complicity, to free, not only Harry and Simon, but all the men wrongfully imprisoned in Dover. Fooling the jailer (Percy Herbert) into believing the men are being taken as slave labor aboard a sailing vessel, Syn successfully leads everyone to freedom. Pugh is humiliated and ordered by the King to withdraw in disgrace. Syn rejoins the Squire as Katharine and Brackenbury, who is about to resign his commission, plan to marry.
The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh may not be the most distinguished literary adaptation ever conceived for the movies (in point of fact, it is probably one of the most liberally bastardized and should only be considered as a loose thumbnail of the novels, or, more directly, its own stand-alone creation). Nevertheless, it remains one of Walt’s most impressively produced TV productions; moodily lit, darkly scripted and expertly played. Patrick McGoohan, later to garner lasting acclaim on TV’s Secret Agent (1964-67) and, cult status on the short-lived, but ever-since revived, The Prisoner (1967-68), is superb in his Jekyll and Hyde toggle between Syn and his alter ego, the Scarecrow. As the vicar of Dymchurch, Syn is the epitome of the noble countryman, who quietly observes, rather than reacting to unpleasant situations in haste. As his alter ego, he exudes the sort of unbound and wild-eyed voracity of a slightly unhinged avenging angel. No one suspects Syn and the Scarecrow of being one in the same, precisely because of their polar opposite personalities which McGoohan – as either character - carries off with formidable ease and finesse. The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh is a potpourri of sixties-era British stars. The largely British cast delivers the goods; particularly, Alan Dobie, George Cole and Geoffrey Keen – a formidable baddie. Paul Beeson’s day-for-night cinematography is sumptuous; ditto, for Anthony Mendleson’s costumes and Michael Stringer’s plush art direction. The series also benefits from Walt’s infusion of capital in the Brit-based film industry in the aftermath of WWII. Interesting, at least for Disney, The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh is a darker/edgier affair, not entirely in keeping with Walt’s ‘family’ brand.
Relying on Walt’s introductions to set the tone and place of the piece, Robert Westerby’s teleplay is a bit too self-involved in the particulars, and considerably invested in the action, at the expense of character development. Syn and his alter ego, the Scarecrow, emerge fully-formed from the outset; the audience plunged in the middle of immediate plans, the bridgework of which has not been sufficiently laid to actually involve the viewer in anything beyond a superficial investment of their time. Owing to its original structure – dialogue and situations to neatly fit between commercial breaks – at times, the plot seems to abruptly end (fade to black) only to return on an entirely different sequence of events, presumably to have occurred after others – unseen (and never to be seen) have already taken place; leaving audiences, again, to connect the dots on their own.  The first episode is also the most ‘episodic’ in nature – the plot, rushed rather than evenly paced. The second and third installments fare better with a structured suspense that reaches its crescendo in Part Three when Syn breaks Harry and the other prisoners out of Dover Castle.  As a child, I recall seeing the North American theatrical cut of The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh somewhere in the early 1980’s. At least then, it appeared to me a far more lucid and compelling affair than the episodic 2-part mini-series eventually aired on network television’s The Disney Sunday Night Movie a scant six months or so thereafter. Despite the fact the mini-series came first, the cuts to tighten the narrative for its theatrical reissue establish a far more cohesive narrative structure, systemically building in suspense to a successful finale. The 3-part mini-series as originally aired represents ‘the original’ cut and, while episodically structured, at least, better fits the television format.
Certain threads in the continuing narrative carry over from one week’s episode to the next, while others are self-contained within each episode. And now, the Disney Exclusive Club has made the original 3-part ‘Wonderful World of Disney version available on Blu-ray. Were that someone at the Mouse House had the foresight to include the theatrical cut as well, and, as it appeared as part of the company’s celebrated ‘tin-packed’ DVD Vault franchise from the mid-1990’s.  But no – it’s the original TV version contained here – all 3-parts on one Blu-ray, totaling a little over 2 ½ hours, and separated by The Wonderful World of Disney theme, and then, brief introductions by Walt Disney himself. Viewing these cuts today leaves a warm lump for nostalgia in our hearts; the world, since Walt’s time, having moved in a direction that I fear the old master would not have entirely approved. Indeed, by today’s jaundice standards, The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh appears quaintly over-simplified costume/drama fluff, capped off by Gerard Schurmann’s bouncy title tune; a cross between the adventuresome spirit imbued in Disney’s own Davy Crockett (1954-55) and The Mark of Zorro (1957). The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh perhaps lacks the appeal of either of these, as our nominal hero is played with moody restraint by the ever-clever Patrick McGoohan, whose piercing stare always suggests some deeper understanding and darker purpose brewing within. Indeed, the Scarecrow’s cackle is bone-chilling; McGoohan’s physical transformation in painted burlap with crooked smile and sharp, triangular eye-slits, a terrifying presence, meant to be feared rather than respected or loved.
What we have on Blu-ray is basically ‘a mutt’ – the original North American 1.33:1 aspect ratio preserved for The Wonderful World of Color and Walt’s intros before switching to the theatrical 1.66:1 aspect ratio for the feature presentation. Image quality on all 3-parts of The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh is quite solid, with rich, bold Technicolor hues; the image, dominated by deeply saturated azure ‘day-for-night’ blues, and blood red tunics and uniforms. Flesh tones are superbly rendered. Contrast is excellent and fine details abound. An intermittent hint of edge enhancement crops up now and then, and there are several instances of image instability that ought to have been corrected. But otherwise, there is virtually nothing to complain about here. The mono DTS 1.0 audio is adequate for this presentation and represents the original intent of the film makers. As with all Disney Club Exclusives, this one contains no extras – not even chapter stops – although, toggling on the remote at 10 min. intervals is possible. Aside: I really do not understand Disney Inc.’s current marketing strategy on these Blu-ray releases, as copious extra features have already been produced for the DVD editions, and, with minimal effort, could have been transferred to hi-def in their native 720i, if the company had no interest in preserving such extras for future generations in any upgraded video quality. But to not include these extras at all – and, in the case of The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh – not even the alternate theatrical edition, widely circulated, and therefore, widely seen and fondly recalled – just seems a really dumb executive decision: one, showing no signs of being overruled for subsequent Blu-ray releases of Uncle Walt’s vintage back catalog. For shame…for shame. Bottom line: The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh should be seen. Its performances rank from solid to great, and, its production values could scarcely be better. The Blu-ray presents us with a stellar – if not perfect – home video presentation at long last. Recommended.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS

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