THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE (Warner Bros. 1936) Warner Home Video
A massive undertaking. A staggering achievement – words that
accurately describe Michael Curtiz’s The Charge of the Light Brigade
(1936); Errol Flynn’s most lavishly mounted and sumptuously produced screen
spectacle. Ever the meticulous planner, the caustic Curtiz oversaw the
production down to its last detail, using authentic postage stamps and actual
uniforms worn by the 27th Dragoons to re-stage the awe-inspiring finale. Based
on Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem, The Charge of the Light Brigade was shot
in Sonora, the High Sierras and Chatsworth at a then staggering cost of
$1,200,000.00. Although the film is justly celebrated for its final ‘offensive’
launched by Maj. Geoffrey Vickers (Errol Flynn) against the Russian forces in
the Crimea, ironically this is the one sequence in the film Curtiz did not
direct; deferring to his second unit director – B. Reeves Eason. The ‘charge’
had, in fact, already been immortalized on celluloid in the British-made, The
Jaws of Death (1930). But Jack Warner, on the strength of his faith in
Errol Flynn, was inspired to produce his own monumental epic, akin thematically,
if not literally, to Lives of a Bengal Lancer (1935), a huge hit for
Gary Cooper over at Paramount.
As such, Jack put Curtiz – the most proficient
director working at the studio then – on the assignment; Curtiz, in turn,
hiring Michel Jacoby to developed a story based on the infamous attack. And
although the studio bought Jacoby's script, the final draft, given a heavy
polish by Roland Leigh, veered more closely to copying the dramatic arc of that
aforementioned Gary Cooper masterpiece. Initially, Warner had sought an
all-British cast. But Errol Flynn (Tasmanian by birth, though frequently
considered as Irish) had made such an indelible mark in Captain Blood he
was immediately cast as the star. In its preliminary stages, Brit-born, Ian
Hunter was connected with the project, with Anita Louise announced for the
ingenue. Patric Knowles, newly acquired by the studio under a recommendation
from Irving Asher, who ironically, had also championed Flynn earlier, was
assigned the pivotal role of Flynn's noble brother, while another U.K. export, David
Niven steadily advancing to the forefront of his own career aspirations, also
became an integral part of the cast. For the Surat Khan, the studio briefly
considered such noteworthy baddies as Edward G. Robinson and Basil Rathbone,
before hiring C. Henry Gordon to play the villain.
At a time when most movies were stage-bound spectacles,
recreated on a sound-stage and back lot, The Charge of the Light Brigade
was touted for its extensive location work; the company actually putting out a
fire in a restaurant while staying in Lone Pine, California, before moving to
Mexico, due to its lax restrictions on the treatment of animals. Although an
expert craftsman, the Hungarian-born Curtiz, was far more interested in getting
his shots than in the safety of his cast or crew. By the late 1920’s he had
already established himself as a formidable director in Europe – a trend to
continue after his immigration to the U.S. and appointment at Warner Bros. During the next 30 years, Curtiz would helm
102 films, the bulk of them made for Jack, who greatly admired Curtiz’s
stubborn work ethic; also, the way he was able to manhandle otherwise
troublesome star personalities. “If Curtiz told you to do something,
consider it done,” David Niven once admitted, “You didn’t question him
or you were not long to be working on his set.” And, indeed, with his
uncanny ability to earn a record 10 Oscar nominations for stars who had appeared
in his pictures, not to mention 5 nominations and 2 wins for his own direction,
most every actor working on the Warner backlot was eager to ply their craft
with Curtiz, regardless of his irascible temperament. Famous for his artistic
use of lighting, his complex and fluid camera movements, and high crane shots, Curtiz’s
versatility made him one of the most sought-after artists of his time.
For the climactic Battle of Balaclava, so eloquently
understated in Lord Tennyson's poem, Curtiz photographed the lancers charge
into the valley of death from every conceivable angle; overhead, from the side,
and even, digging trenches to point upwards at the underbellies of the
advancing horses as they sailed overhead; a riveting sequence accompanied by
one of composer, Max Steiner’s most rousing film scores. The battlefield was deliberately
booby-trapped with tripwires, to fell 125 horses and riders. It is rumored more
than 25 horses were either instantly killed in this deluge or had to be put
down afterward. Flynn, a proficient equestrian was enraged by this blatant
display of animal cruelty, becoming more incensed by the minute, as Curtiz's
did not seem to share his indignation, so long as the sequence looked
spectacular on film. Curtiz’s indifference toward humans too was as well
documented. On the set of 1928’s silent epic, Noah’s Ark, the director
had nearly drowned his extras in a dunk tank, resulting in a slew of injuries
that required immediate medical attention and affectionately became known
around the back lot as ‘mud, flood and blood’. For his part, Flynn
lunged at Curtiz, a confrontation in which star and director had to be pulled
apart by several extras before any real damage could be done. Afterward,
legislation was passed in the U.S. Congress, prohibiting the willful killing of
any animals for the purposes of staging action sequences in the movies. Fearing
reprisals, and despite the picture’s runaway success – the biggest grosser of
the year – Warner Bros. quietly buried The Charge of the Light Brigade
after its theatrical run. It would not resurface again theatrically until 1956,
and then, only after its rights had been sold to Associated Artists Productions
for its television premiere.
Plot wise: Maj. Geoffrey Vickers is an officer and a
gentleman, but with an ax to grind. He is a favorite in the India court of the Surat
Khan, whose affection for the British has begun to cool since the death of his
father. However, during a routine cougar hunt, Vickers saves the Khan’s life
and is thereafter promised the same loyalty and protection from the Khan. A loyal
solider who has never known a stable home, Vickers is ordered by his superior,
Sir Charles Macefield (Henry Stephenson) to Chakoti, a British outpost overseen
by Col. Campbell (Donald Crisp). The Col.’s daughter, Elsa (Olivia DeHavilland)
is Geoffrey’s fiancée, though in his considerable absence she has managed to
transfer her affections to his brother, Capt. Perry (Patric Knowles). In an ill-fated
move, Macefield orders general maneuvers for the 27th regiment to
another outpost – Lohara – leaving Chakoti vulnerable to attack. The Khan makes
his move, slaughtering the populace at Chakoti, including Col. Campbell –
though Geoffrey and Elsa manage a harrowing escape by sea to Lohara in the nick
of time. Macefield elevates Geoffrey to the status of Major and informs him the
Khan has joined forces with the Russians against the British in the Crimea. Geoffrey
is ordered to deliver a dispatch to the regiment that will have them stand down
from this battle. Instead, Geoffrey changes the order to declare a full out
attack. The gallant remnants of the 27th, most of whom lost their
families at Chakoti, bravely ride into the valley of certain death. Vickers
leads the revolt and manages to impale the Khan with his lance before
perishing.
The Charge of the Light Brigade is a rollicking
adventure in the best tradition. Curtiz utilizes the formidable resources of
the studio to pull off a seminal work, not only in his own illustrious canon of
screen achievements, but in the swashbuckling genre in totem. Sol Polito's
cinematography is gorgeous, while Max Steiner's superior orchestrations elevate
this visually resplendent movie into a genuine work of cinema art. If the film has a shortcoming, it probably is
the rather sloppy way Michael Jacoby and Rowland Leigh's screenplay awkwardly attempts
to rekindle the Flynn/De Havilland romantic chemistry by trying to reunite them
as a couple, before tearing them apart in the end. Although, why Elsa should
prefer the tepid Capt. Perry to the virulent flame of desire she obviously felt
for Vickers has baffled casual viewers and resilient fans alike for many years.
But why quibble over this minor hiccup in an otherwise flawless gem of a movie.
The Charge of the Light Brigade delivers.
Of the various screen incarnations of Alfred Lord
Tennyson's immortal masterwork, Curtiz’s version least adheres to the chronicle of that infamous military blunder in the Crimea. Reflecting the popularity of
1935’s, The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, Curtiz mounts an epic climax in
which no man is spared. The romantic sparring between Vickers and Perry for
Elsa’s hand is heartfelt and affecting; ditto for De Havilland’s real-life
passion for Flynn, transparent and evolving throughout the picture. And, it
says something of Flynn’s security at Warner Bros. that he could appear in a
picture where his character does not get the girl, and yet, still come across
as the he-man hunk any number of other young lovelies would take for their own
in a heartbeat. The cavalry charge is
truly epic; Curtiz’s cue over a megaphone, “Bring on the empty horses!”
becoming the title for co-star, David Niven’s autobiography many years later. Indeed,
many horses were killed in the staging of this monumental action sequence; the
picture, becoming the cause celebre to establish rules where animal rights are
concerned with the ASPCA. Passages from Tennyson’s immortal work appear superimposed
across the action as Vickers leads his noble, and suicidal charge against the
Russians. Regardless of its total flub in historical inaccuracies, The
Charge of the Light Brigade emerges as a Teflon-coated actioner with few
equals.
Warner Home Video’s DVD exhibits an overall impressive
B&W transfer. The benefactor of considerable digital restoration (previous
incarnations have looked average to down-right poor) the gray scale exhibits a
smooth and satisfying tonality. A few very brief sequences continue to exhibit
a soft quality and age-related artifacts. Film grain is well represented. Contrast
is excellent. Overall, this is a very satisfying visual presentation. The audio
is Dolby Digital 1.0 mono but adequately represented. Extras include all of the
junkets we’ve come to expect from Warner Night at the Movies (minus
Leonard Maltin’s intros). But oh, what
we wouldn’t give for the Warner Archive to favor us all with a newly remastered
Blu-ray. Will it happen? Pretty please!
Until then, this disc comes very highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
1
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