BUCCANEER'S GIRL: Blu-ray (Universal-International, 1950) Kino Lorber

Rumor has it, First Lady of Argentina, Eva Perón, telephoned Hollywood sexpot, Yvonne DeCarlo to tell her how much she had enjoyed director, Frederick de Cordova’s Buccaneer Girl (1950), a lightweight swashbuckler that, at barely an hour and 18 minutes, nevertheless manages to inveigle DeCarlo’s heroine in six knock-down/drag-out fights, bitch-slapping Connie Gilchrist’s ‘vegetable lady’ in the marketplace, and damn near belting the tar out of sultry society vamp, Arlene Villon (Andrea King). Likely, Perón could relate to the movie’s prostitute, who climbs her way from guttersnipe to captain’s moll. In between these claw’s out cat fights, DeCarlo’s sexy and forthright scrapper, Deborah McCoy stowed away on a pirate ship, became one of the paid courtesans of Mme. Brizar’s (Elsa Lanchester) house of ill repute, and, escaped the wily scourge of the seven seas, Frederic Baptiste (Philip Friend), only to return, blackmail him to maintain her silence about his real identity, and, eventually, to win his heart.  Yes indeed, there was a lot going on in Joseph Hoffman and Harold Shumate’s screenplay, based on a tale told by Joe May and Samuel R. Golding. Too much, in fact, to make any of it stick for very long. You are not watching Buccaneer’s Girl for plot, folks – nor even for the scattershot assortment of songs, written by Walter Scharf, Jack Brooks and Oscar Brodney. No – not even for Russell Metty’s superb cinematography in blazing Technicolor, or Robert F. Boyle and Bernard Herzbrun’s production design – which is formidable. And, even if the supporting cast is a veritable who’s who of memorable faces from this period - Jay C. Flippen as Baptiste’s right hand, Jared Hawkins, Robert Douglas - the baddie, Narbonne, Norman Lloyd, as his impish second, Patout, Henry Daniell (Capt. Duval), Disney fav, Verna Felton as the dowager, and John Qualen – the ‘vegetable man’ – none are particularly well-utilized in this movie. Point blank, there isn’t enough time in this B-listed programmer with A-list trappings to do anything except get to the point.

Originally titled Mademoiselle McCoy and the Pirates, Buccaneer’s Girl was written with Yvonne DeCarlo in mind. In the initial planning phase, it looked as though Paul Christian would be her co-star. Alas, the Swiss-born Christian was not to Universal’s liking, having yet to appear outside his native German/Italian co-productions. By contrast, Philip Friend had cut a dashing figure in Sword in the Desert (1949). By contrast, DeCarlo had already appeared in 31 movies in less than 10 years, a breakneck schedule to push her into the public spotlight as a valiant successor to Maria Montez – the queen of Universal exotica. DeCarlo would prove to have the greater longevity, achieving immortality as TV’s beloved Lily Munster. But just now, she was being groomed as a fiery-tempered, raven-haired glamour gal, for which, at least in Buccaneer’s Girl, she proved every inch the luscious sexpot with a tart-mouth and sharp tongue to offset her stunningly handsome beauty. After some quota quickie credits, fashioned from outtakes of the same model ship used in Tyrone Power’s The Black Swan (1942), Buccaneer’s Girl wastes absolutely no time setting up its weak-kneed premise; that no ship sailing on route to New Orleans is safe, so long as Baptiste the pirate is on the prowl. In short order, Hawkins – impersonating his master, leads a revolt on the mercantile ship belonging to Narbonne. Indeed, it is the latest of Narbonne’s fleet to fall prey to Baptiste. Exactly why Baptiste appears to be specifically targeting Narbonne’s ships will be revealed later on. For now, this latest seizure comes with an unexpected perk – the discovery of sexy stowaway, Deborah McCoy.

Refusing to be set aside or taken advantage of, Debbie has Baptiste strike an adversarial bargain, sailing very near the port of New Orleans at great peril to his being found out. She then manages to sneak off on her own, winding up inside the vegetable bin of a local merchant, whose wife suspects him of having an affair with this strikingly handsome girl. The public scandal this ignites is enough to draw Mme. Brizar’s interests. Alas, the madame quickly discovers her new acquisition has a mind and a will of her own. Defying Brizar’s edicts, Debbie eventually finds her way to a fashionable party being given in the honor of one Capt. Robert Kingston. Small surprise, Kingston and Baptiste are one in the same. Moreover, Baptiste, who previously showed signs of warming romantically towards Debbie is actually engaged to the haughty and exclusive socialite, Arlene Villon. Hired as the entertainment, Debbie favors the hoity-toity rich with a song. Villon’s jealousy blossoms. She interrupts Debbie’s recital with her incessant chatter. Not willing to let the slight pass, Debbie confronts Villon in an antechamber and proceeds to slap and wrestle her to the ground. She also suggests to the humiliated Villon that the dress she wears – a present from Kingston – was actually first worn by her aboard Baptiste’s pirate ship. The proof of her claim rests in a small tear in the gown’s hem which Villon later discovers, much to her chagrin.

Debbie agrees to keep Baptiste’s secret – for a while. Indeed, as Kingston, Baptiste has taken the opportunity to donate virtually all of his ill-gotten gains seized from Narbonne’s ships to the treasury of the Seaman's Fund. This, Baptiste founded to counteract Narbonne’s unscrupulous desire to whittle out the local competition, employing underhanded methods to wreck the mercantile trade and leave him with the sole monopoly. Respecting Baptiste’s charity, Debbie continues to maintain his façade as a respectable and wealthy patron. Alas, during a botched robbery, two of Narbonne’s men steal Baptiste’s ring off his finger – easily to identify Kingston as the pirate, reviled by all in New Orleans. Now, Patout and Narbonne set a trap for Baptiste; mercifully, intercepted by Debbie, who joins her lover on the high seas. Nevertheless, another trap is set and Baptiste is captured and exposed as a fraud by Narbonne. To rescue her lover, Debbie and the rest of Baptiste’s crew pretend to get themselves captured and taken to the jail where he is being held. Instead, they break in, subdue the guards, and manage a daring rescue. Curiously, all this heroism is dealt very short shrift – presumably, as the picture’s time and budget are fast running out. So, instead, in the final moments, Debbie and Baptiste are seen together on the bow of his ship, suggesting blissful weddedness on the horizon.

Buccaneer’s Girl is a really silly little affair. Robert Douglas, who signed a 3-picture deal with Universal, is fairly wasted here as the ineffectual baddie. Indeed, the crux of our story is never firmly situated on a conflict between Douglas’ Narbonne and Baptiste, but rather Baptiste’s burgeoning love for Debbie.  Interjecting several forgettable songs into the mix, Debbie is presented as an entertainer who can easily ignite men’s hearts with her saucy renditions of ‘Monsieur’, ‘Because You’re In Love’ and ‘A Sailor Sails the Seven Seas’. DeCarlo is in very fine voice. But the score lets her down at almost every interval. Miraculously, she manages still to make something delicious and light-hearted of this otherwise stock company vixen. Exactly why DeCarlo’s star never rose to the first-tier of Hollywood’s leading ladies remains a mystery. Certainly, she possessed all of the necessary gifts to be great. It is a tad disappointing DeCarlo’s consort for a king falls for Philip Friend’s Baptiste. Friend’s easy enough on the eyes, but lacks both the charisma and presence of a leading man. He plays the part of this dastardly pirate as though he were decoding ciphers; his bookish cordiality, at odds with the part of the roguish hottie du jour. In the role of the spoiled and simpering fiancée not to be, Andrea King is little more than decorous, and no better than an ill-mannered prig, reeking of self-importance and entitlement. Hence, when DeCarlo’s minx belts King’s Arlene Villon one squarely on the chops before wrestling her to the floor, it is a celebratory moment – as satisfying, as it proves comic relief.

Buccaneer’s Girl won’t win any awards for picture of the year. Not even, as picture of the moment. But it is disposable, if pleasing and never manages to wear out its welcome. Joyful and senseless, with crudely drawn, cardboard cutout characters shimmering all too finely in their Technicolor finery, Buccaneer’s Girl attains a level of purely escapist satisfaction that is good for an hour or so of wistfully antiseptic entertainment. Do not expect too much and you will certainly not be disappointed! Buccaneer’s Girl arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s alliance with Universal Home Video. And if Universal has done absolutely nothing to restore or remaster this deep catalog title since authoring a video master in preparation for its DVD release in the mid-1990’s, at least the Technicolor elements are in very fine shape. With one or two exceptions, the 3-strip richness of vintage Technicolor comes shining through. Reds are blood red. Blues are deep and enveloping. The party sequences are a Mexican fiesta of exploding hues. Flesh tones always look spectacular. Age-related artifacts are kept to a bare minimum. Long shots tend to suffer from residual softness. Indeed, a new scan might have corrected these limitations and also evened out the grain, that either appears practically nonexistent or too thick. Certainly, it would have cleaned up the residual quality drop-outs that afflict scene changes, dissolves, and fades. The 1.0 DTS mono audio is competently rendered. Lee Gambin chimes in with a new audio commentary. It is light on details and spends a good deal of time merely reading off factoid info about cast and crew. We also get a theatrical trailer. Bottom line: Buccaneer’s Girl is a harmless enough C-grade swashbuckler, tricked out in superficial gloss, and an engaging enough performance from its female lead to make us occasionally forget there, otherwise, is not a whole lot of substance here. Good for a gander, though not much more – buy with confidence, as the Blu-ray – while not perfect – looks pretty damn good.

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

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

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