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
0
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