THE PRIVATE LIVES OF ELIZABETH AND ESSEX: Blu-ray (Warner Bros., 1939) Warner Archive

Bette Davis was well compensated for losing out on the most coveted role in screen history – Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with The Wind (1939) – with Michael Curtiz’s The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), a lavishly appointed, masterfully executed faux epic of palace intrigues, based on Maxwell Anderson’s wordy, though never tedious, stagecraft – Elizabeth, the Queen. Only a year before, when asked by Davis why the part of Scarlett could not be hers, Selznick had rather condescendingly informed the actress, “…because I can’t imagine any man suffering for twenty-five years and winding up with you!” But many in 1939 could have at least fathomed the possibility. Davis had risen like cream to the top of her profession, starring in no less than four classic films in 1939 alone. Indeed, Davis was not the suffering type – although she had done enough of it at Warner Bros., mostly under the duress of a male-dominated studio system and mogul, Jack Warner who sought to remake her into something of a sassy platinum dolly en par with MGM’s Jean Harlow. Only after Davis stood her ground, walking out on her ironclad contract, to become embroiled in a lawsuit, did her star ascend with the greatest of speed and accuracy befitting her immeasurable talents. Following their brief stalemate, Warner and Davis buried the hatchet, perhaps in each other’s backs, the caustic diva frequently charging into the front offices with a list of demands that were met rather than debated. It is rumored Jack Warner would dart into his private men’s room whenever he heard her coming down the hall, simply to avoid a conflict. Around the studio, Davis acquired something of ‘a reputation’, begrudgingly afforded the label ‘the fifth Warner brother’ while steadily improving her prospects and advancing her career. By 1939, it was clear to all, even if she had lost the court battle to wrangle herself free from this indentured servitude, she had most decidedly won the war.

1939 was a banner year – and not just for Davis, who starred in four major productions: Dark Victory, Juarez, The Old Maid and The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, the latter marked by a distinguished Broadway pedigree and sumptuous production values in period costume drama for which Warner Bros. – generally speaking – was not readily known. Anderson’s play, Elizabeth, the Queen had been a showcase for Lynn Fontanne. But the film’s appeal was divided between Davis’ formidable ‘king in petticoats and the expanded role of Sir Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex (played by Errol Flynn). Jack Warner’s decision to cast Flynn instantly soured Davis on the project. She had, in fact, heavily campaigned for Laurence Olivier as her costar, citing Olivier’s obvious charismatic appeal in 1937’s Fire Over England. But Olivier was not under contract to Warner. More to the point, Flynn had proven himself one of the studio’s handsomest leading men and a good actor besides, looking every bit the paragon of masculinity whether sheathed in modern garb, vintage American west riding chaps or period leggings and a codpiece. Like it or not – and Davis decidedly did not – Flynn’s box office drawing power could rival her own. Yet, perhaps, professional jealousy was hardly the point.

Indeed, Davis considered Flynn a notorious pretty boy at best, his work ethic substandard to her own. Her venom festered as shooting began and was frequently exerted, perhaps nowhere more obviously than in the scene where Davis, as Elizabeth, confronts her returning conqueror – and lover – Sir Robert with an admonishment of his decision to sacrifice a mission against the Spanish at England’s considerable expense. Evidently, Sir Robert does not see the situation in quite the same broad-brushed terms. He tells the Queen as much and flippantly so, before turning to exit the reception room. “You dare turn your back on Elizabeth? You dare?” The Queen then strikes Sir Robert full in the face with all her might and a jewel-encrusted ring that left a considerable welt on Flynn’s cheek. During rehearsals, this moment of public shaming was planned as a ‘Hollywood slap’ – meaning, the hand comes close to the face, perhaps even grazing it while a sound effect of a more violent assault is added in later to punctuate the scene. Flynn had no expectation Davis would actually haul off and hit him for the actual take. But strike him she did – and hard! The moment remains in the film, and Flynn’s immediate indignation and quick recovery, seething rage are readily apparent as Sir Robert declares, “I would not have taken that from your father – the king. Nor will I take it from a king in petticoats!” From this moment forward, shooting the picture became something of a real battle royale with Flynn and Davis parting like a pair of prize fighters between takes, each returning to their corner and completely ignoring the other.

It really is difficult to assess the breadth of Davis’ animosity towards Flynn here. He had, in fact, costarred with her in The Sisters, and their working relationship then had been fairly amicable. Alas, on the set of The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex they barely tolerated one another, leading to some added potency to their romantic exchanges in the picture. When Robert topples the Queen to the floor before hurling himself at her side, grinning to declare, “Fiery wench!” we can almost assume Flynn is addressing Davis directly; she, immensely amused, and letting out with a hearty laugh. Jack Warner had attempted to market Davis and Flynn as a package deal to Selznick for Gone with The Wind, as Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler respectively. But Selznick, having gone his own way, had cast something of a pall on the reputation of both these stars – at least, insofar as Warner was concerned. By groveling to L.B. Mayer for the loan out of Clark Gable instead, and siding with a virtual unknown – Vivien Leigh – for the most coveted role in all filmdom, Selznick had effectively minimized Davis’ importance and Flynn’s virility as a leading man. Something had to be done to restore these headliners to their rightful place in the cinema firmament. And so, Jack endeavored to prove the marketing of Davis and Flynn as costars had merit. Warner also augmented Anderson’s play with an impeccable pedigree of character actors from his formidable stable. These included Donald Crisp (as Sir Francis Bacon), Olivia de Havilland (Lady Penelope Gray), Henry Daniell (Sir Robert Cecil), Henry Stephenson (Lord Burghley), Alan Hale (the Earl of Tyrone), Nannette Fabray (Mistress Margaret Radcliffe) and, borrowed from Fox, Vincent Price (Sir Walter Raleigh). Of these stellar performers, Crisp would prove to have one of the most prolific careers, appearing in more than 400 movies and becoming one of the richest men in Hollywood – thanks, in part to some very shrewd investments and land deals.

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex also features a devastatingly beautiful score by Erich Wolfgang Korngold, its ambitious leitmotifs and bombastic main title, sublime counterbalances to Sol Polito’s sumptuous Technicolor feast and Anton Grot’s gargantuan production design, part English Tudor/part Art Deco façade. However, willing Elizabeth and Essex into existence proved something of its own cause célèbre, both on and off the screen, the parallel love/hate relationship between Davis and Flynn behind closed doors, perfectly to dovetail into spirited clashes between Davis’ towering embodiment of the determined Queen and Flynn’s ruthlessly romantic suitor/warrior, whose endeavor to conquer the throne and this woman’s heart simultaneously leads each aspiration to wanton ruin. To play Elizabeth, a role much older than her 31-years, Davis shaved into her hairline and eyebrows and donned an unflattering red wig, her appearance to the Elizabeth from history, actually quite uncanny. Davis was, in many ways, relentless in her emasculation of Flynn. Yet, this shredding of his machismo queerly translated into thrashing embers of desire on the screen. There is a genuine chemistry between Flynn and Davis, his absurdly tanned and exquisite ruggedness incongruously softening Davis’ death-white gargoyle’s visage.

The film is also notable for Olivia de Havilland’s appearance – not because the actress is prominently featured, but rather for being relegated into the backdrop. This was Jack Warner’s punishment for having been goaded by his wife to allow de Havilland to play the part of Melanie Hamilton in Gone with The Wind. Indeed, Jack Warner had decreed that de Havilland would remain Flynn’s romantic appendage, and why not? Jack knew a good thing when he saw it. Beginning with 1935’s Captain Blood, the on-screen chemistry between de Havilland and Flynn had translated to pure box office gold. Moreover, the two costars looked ravishing together in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). Behind the scenes, they were also lovers. So, de Havilland’s aspirations to expand upon her career opportunities, by appearing in a movie for the competition, at least to Jack, seemed grotesquely disloyal. The part of Melanie Hamilton in Selznick’s southern gamble unequivocally proved de Havilland a much finer actress than any of her frequent costarring roles opposite Flynn had ever revealed. Under Jack Warner’s autocratic rule, De Havilland put in her time. But by the time the two appeared in Elizabeth and Essex, that impassioned love affair with Flynn, a storybook romance doomed to end badly, had decidedly cooled. De Havilland had, in fact parted from Flynn after inquiring what he most desired from life. His reply, ‘to be famous’ seemed very shallow by comparison to her own aspirations to garner ‘respect for a job well done’. Thus, when production wrapped, cast and crew moved on to other things. Flynn and de Havilland would appear together in only 3 more movies, but Elizabeth and Essex was really the beginning of the end for their love match. It was the end of a lot of things, actually.

In 1943, de Havilland sued Warner Brothers over the unjust, though nevertheless widely practiced and universally accepted edict the Hollywood majors lauded over their stars. Basically, to keep them in line, the old studio system had legally bound its contract players to an obligation of up to seven years. Alas, the interpretation of ‘seven years’ was open for discussion, and the studios quickly recognized they could extend this period of indentured servitude indefinitely by abusing the legal limits with their own suspension clause. So, whatever time one was under suspension was not considered ‘time served’ within that seven years. Technically, this meant an actor could be held indefinitely without pay or prospects of working for another studio as well as their own – ever again – if the studio holding their contract wished it. It is this suspension clause Jack exercised to keep de Havilland beyond the seven ‘calendar years’ she had already worked for the studio. Defiantly, de Havilland took her boss to court and won her case. Even more miraculously, she continued to work steadily in pictures thereafter. But the court ruling, on the books as the de Havilland Decree, set a new precedent for labor relations in Hollywood. Ballsy, to say the least!

Yet, The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex had another fascinating postscript. Davis and de Havilland had not begun as friends on the Warner back lot, largely due to Davis’ competitive nature and virtual incapacity to form friendships with female costars whom she readily – and rightly - regarded as her competition, to be squashed before they could challenge and/or surpass her supremacy at the studio. However, as the years wore on, Davis came to admire de Havilland for her courage. The two actually became great friends, so much that when Joan Crawford bowed out of Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte (1964) a mere two weeks into production, Davis suggested de Havilland as her replacement. De Havilland, by now, semi-retired and living in France, agreed. Afterward, Davis suggested another ‘reunion’ of sorts, asking de Havilland to join her for a private screening on the old Warner Bros. backlot. But the film Davis selected was, ironically, The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex. According to de Havilland, Davis critically scrutinized the picture, virtually frame by frame. When the house lights came up at the end, Davis turned to de Havilland, saying about Flynn, “You know I was wrong about him. He is marvelous.”  High praise, indeed, regrettably afforded posthumously to Flynn who had died in 1959.

In viewing The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex today, one can still readily admire it as a production of impeccable tastes and craftsmanship with grand sets, gorgeous costumes and powerful performances from Davis and Flynn. These virtues have withstood the test of time and are plainly obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes in working condition.  The Norman Reilly Raine/Æneas MacKenzie screenplay has managed to ‘open up’ the cloistered melodrama of palace intrigues into a flowing and glossy spectacle, the pageantry never detracting from the literary quality of Maxwell Anderson’s prose. It is a talkative play and movie. But Anderson’s ability to write with an eloquence that never seems stultifying and Davis’ desire to breathe life into this rhapsodic dialogue and still make it appear as though it were mere conversation sprung from the top of her own head, translates the artifice into sublime melodrama. Flynn too matches Davis’ cultured dragon wit for wit, their magnificent sparing elevated into believable aberrations of love-strained animosity.

Yet, it must have stuck in Davis’ craw that, after Korngold’s magnificent and brassy main titles, the picture opens not with her, but a lavishly staged processional marking the return of Sir Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex (Errol Flynn) to Elizabeth I’s (Bette Davis) court at Whitehall. The people are with Essex, particularly Lady Penelope (Olivia de Havilland) whose own desires are to possess the earthly man rather than his galvanized and god-like champion. But Essex’s blood is poisoned with a genuine thirst for his Queen. The romance that cannot be is further impeded by palace intrigues. Sir Robert Cecil (Henry Daniell) would sooner see Essex ‘tarnished’ than ascending to the throne – an aspiration that will be Essex’s own undoing.  Lord Burghley (Henry Stephenson) encourages prudence and patience. But Sir Walter Raleigh (Vincent Price) shares Cecil’s insidious passion to usurp Essex's popularity with the masses while calling into question his loyalties to the crown.

In the meantime, Sir Francis Bacon (Donald Crisp) pleads with Elizabeth. She has already decided Essex’s return cannot be met with a flourish of praise or even genuine gratitude.  In fact, he must be brought to heel at her command.  Moreover, the Queen’s reputation must supersede any private emotions. Besides Robert has lavishly spent tax monies afforded him by the Crown for his campaign in Spain without yielding the anticipated tribute. His tactics are therefore to be brought into question since, despite the obviousness of his own triumph against Spain’s formidable armada, the purpose of his exploits was nevertheless to defeat the Spaniards and secure a bounty for England’s depleted treasury. Only half of this discharged duty has been fulfilled, the riches sunk by the Spanish fleet off the coast of Cadiz and lost to both sides. Essex enters Elizabeth’s throne room with absolute confidence. But the mood quickly sours as the Queen makes a mockery of his valor and demands an explanation for his ‘failed campaign’.  In fact, she rewards all of Essex’s commanders without even a note of praise for him, something Essex’s ego will not tolerate.

Retreating in anger and shame to his family home, Essex is attended to by Sir Francis who forewarns that his desire to possess the Queen and jointly rule will destroy him. For there are other usurpers about the palace who would sooner see both Sir Robert and the Queen toppled than live happily ever after. In the meantime, Lady Penelope and Mistress Margaret Radcliffe (Nannette Fabray) attend the Queen. She is beside herself after Cecil has read a letter addressed to the court and presumably written in Essex’s hand, admonishing the Crown. Lady Penelope adds fuel to these already brewing flames when she suggests a tournament of song as amusement for Elizabeth. Alas, this moment is transformed into a lyrical chastisement of the Queen’s affections for Essex, its May/December quality poked fun at until Elizabeth can stand no more. Smashing every mirror in the room, Elizabeth orders her entourage away. The ladies retreat, all except for Mistress Margaret who weeps and then confesses her love for a handsome young solider currently fighting in Ireland.  Recognizing the genuineness of Margaret’s loyalty, Elizabeth promises her his safe return – a guarantee doomed to remain unfulfilled when news reaches the kingdom Margaret’s lover has fallen in battle, hence, foreshadowing the outcome of our story.

For Hugh O’Neill, the 2nd Earl of Tyrone (Alan Hale) has declared war on Elizabeth’s forces in Ireland. All is not lost, however. In fact, Tyrone’s pronouncement affords Elizabeth a legitimate reason to recall Essex to her court where she intends to make him Master of the Ordinance. Instead, Cecil and Raleigh conspire to goad Essex into taking command of the army once more, this time sent to Ireland to quash the rebellion. In pursuit of Tyrone’s forces, Essex’s reserves are depleted. He writes the Queen both words of love, but also dispatches for badly needed reserves and supplies. These requests, however, go unanswered, intercepted by Lady Penelope at the behest of Cecil and Raleigh. Penelope is unaware she is being used and believes she is advancing her own cause by interceding in Essex’s romantic overtures. By the time she has discovered the true purpose of these correspondences it is too late. Essex’s forces have fallen to Tyrone and the Queen, grown bitter and reclusive, believes Essex has forsaken their love out of bitter spite and enterprising jealousy.

Essex returns to Whitehall beleaguered and angry. However, the people are with him and Elizabeth realizes he is in an enviable position to topple her throne. Still, she denies Cecil’s nervous pleas to fortify the palace with soldiers. Instead, Elizabeth allows Essex to storm the throne room with his men, the two quickly learning of another treason afoot which has kept their mutual letters a secret from one another. Elizabeth orders her court cleared of everyone except Essex, whom she confides in as she loves him now more deeply than ever. However, when she asks of his intentions toward her, Elizabeth quickly discovers Essex’s heart and loyalties remain divided. Although he undeniably worships her, Essex will not give up his desire to rule England jointly. As Essex is now in a position to fulfill this dream with or without Elizabeth’s complicity she pretends to agree to his ultimatum if he will call off his reserves. Believing he has won both her heart and his place at court Essex orders his troops to stand down. Almost immediately, Elizabeth recalls her royal guard, placing Essex under arrest.

Exiled to the Tower and condemned to death, Essex’s life is pleaded for by Lady Penelope who confesses to Elizabeth her inadvertent complicity in Cecil and Raleigh’s conspiracy to keep them apart. Penelope begs for mercy. Elizabeth prays Essex will return the ring she gave him, in effect forsaking his thirst for power in exchanged for a renewal of their love. This, however, he stubbornly refuses to do. On the day of execution, Elizabeth frantically summons Essex to her private chamber, hoping against hope he will sacrifice his own ambitions to spare his own life. Instead, Essex reasserts he cannot cleanse his desire to simultaneously possess both the woman and the throne. As such - alive he will always remain a threat to her. Although she screams after him a complete surrender of her powers as monarch to spare his life, Essex nobly marches to the executioner’s block where he is beheaded as Elizabeth remains desolate and tormented in all her regal isolation.

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex is a sumptuous entertainment.  No expense has been spared on the elephantine production.  Photographed in the lushness of 3-strip Technicolor, Orry-Kelly’s eye-popping Elizabethan costumes offer a spellbinding array of period recreations. Jack Warner had faith in Errol Flynn even if his costar did not; faith, well-placed indeed. For in viewing the movie today, it becomes quite apparent that although the picture is so clearly a vehicle for Bette Davis, Flynn manages the minor coup of remaining a steadfast and integral part of the story – his understated Robert Devereux as purposeful and profound as Davis’ histrionic and queenly mannerisms.  To accommodate Flynn’s ever-rising stature as the studio’s numero uno he-man, Jack Warner briefly toyed with changing the title of this movie to ‘The Knight and the Lady’.  Davis’ authority quashed this compromise, although she eventually acquiesced to the revamped title: 'The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex' barely able to fit on most movie marquees. When the film had its premiere, it was successful, though not overwhelmingly so. In fact, Dark Victory, made on a much smaller budget, easily out-grossed The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex. As such, Jack Warner would take only one more gamble on a lavishly appointed entertainment starring Davis, 1940’s All This and Heaven Too, before encouraging a roster of finely crafted, though undeniably modestly budgeted melodramas for his biggest female star.

By mid-decade, Jack Warner was in search of new ways to keep his number one female star, Bette Davis in line. His penultimate solution was to hire Davis’ arch nemesis, Joan Crawford – recently released from her MGM contract after being branded ‘box office poison’ in an article in Variety – the showbiz bible. Crawford, hardworking but harboring no ill-will or jealousies towards Bette, and moreover, cautious of the fact Warner Bros. was ostensibly ‘her’ studio, had attempted numerous times to befriend Davis, but to no avail. Worse for their antagonistic sparring, Crawford won an Oscar for 1945’s Mildred Pierce, a role Davis had dismissively rejected.  Davis, immediately thereafter became acutely aware her boss suddenly seemed ambivalent about her future prospects at the studio. Indeed, Davis had only four more films in her Warner canon, A Stolen Life (1946), Deception (1946), Winter Meeting (1948) and the infamous flop, Beyond the Forest (1949) in which the 41-yr.-old star was desperately trying to fake a character half her age. The early forties had been such a promising time for Davis at the studio that, for the briefest wrinkle in time, she seemed in complete command of her artistic destiny. Yet, now, how quickly had those opportunities turned to chalk. Davis perhaps took some consolation in knowing that without her, Crawford’s tenure at Warner Bros. was also on the chopping block. Crawford left the backlot in 1952. Indeed, by the time both ladies agreed to costar in Robert Aldrich’s Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962), Aldrich was denied access to shoot any part of the picture – to be distributed under the Warner banner – on the actual Warner backlot, Jack telling Bob, “I wouldn’t give you a dime for those two washed up old broads!”

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex has received an immaculate and stunning 4K remaster on standard Blu-ray from the Warner Archive (WAC). The DVD release was plagued by so much mis-registration of its original 3-strip Technicolor that at least half the movie was horrendously out of focus, marred by excessive shrinkage of its red record and ringing halos around just about everything. The Blu-ray, in short, is an absolute repudiation of that previous effort. Prepare to be dazzled. The image here, and throughout, is exquisitely crisp and refined, showing off the magnitude of fine details and exceptional color design. It’s gorgeous – period! Contrast is bang on, and age-related artifacts have been virtually eradicated. The DTS 2.0 mono audio has also been improved upon since the DVD. Erich Korngold’s magnificent score no longer suffers from the strangely muffled, yet simultaneously strident characteristic it possessed on the DVD release. WAC has ported over the scantly produced junket on the making of the movie that accompanied the DVD release. This included brief outtakes. We also get two vintage short subjects. Bottom line: The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex on Blu-ray is a must have/must own offering from WAC. Considerable work has been done to resurrect this one from its previously flawed image quality and the results speak for themselves. Permit us to worship.

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

5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

5+

EXTRAS

1