Das dunkelrote Siegel

David Niven must have had so much fun making The Fighting Pimpernel! He got to work with inventive directors Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, who directed him in A Matter of Life and Death, and he got to put on so many different disguises throughout the film. He plays the famous Scarlet Pimpernel, and as he goes incognito planning out various schemes to aid in the French Revolution, he always makes sure his costume, face, and accent are different. Can't picture him with missing teeth and a thick Cockney accent? Can't see him with patches in his trousers and a wild reg wig? Can't imagine him as a hag? You certainly can, if you rent The Fighting Pimpernel.

Without The Niv, this movie wouldn't be anything to write home about. It has a very European feel to it, and the supporting actors are often over-the-top or just plain strange. Thankfully, there is my beloved Niv, to make everything all better. He may not be insanely handsome in this one, since he spends most of his time making his face unrecognizable, but he gets to show off a lot of hidden talents. It's always fun to see an actor let his or her hair down, isn't it? If you liked him in this, next up is Candleshoe, where he also gets to wear many different hats.

I would wholeheartedly have to concur with the previous - and main, to date - reviewer of this mish-mosh remake: it's a hybrid of the 1934 Howard classic and Orczy's original novel, which does justice to neither. As a gesture of independence, the plot is given irrelevant twists, such as renaming the family betrayed (or not, once again) by Marguerite, introducing a London to Brighton carriage race, and switching Howard's 'Who, Sir? You, Sir' dialogue from a London club to a Turkish bath (a minor complaint of the latter detail being that Niven's physique in no way stands up to such scrutiny!)

David Niven's strongest moments are his flashes of 'Carry On'-style wit as the Pimpernel's various assumed personas, particularly the Cock-er-nee who baits Chauvelin's staff. As the foppish Sir Percy, he sounds, probably unintentionally, like a London bobby instead of a dandy from the ton; as the Pimpernel, sans disguise, he is rather forgettable, blending in with the rest of the confused sea of League characters. Margaret Leighton, with the aesthetic distinction of being the only blonde film version of the character, neither looks nor acts the part. She delivers Merle Oberon's lines - word for word, an annoying laziness on behalf of Powell and Pressburger - as though reading from a cue card, and does not spark with Niven. She also looks considerably too old for the role, and is not helped by the smearing of Technicolour-red lipstick she shares with every other woman in this production. Cyril Cusack as Chauvelin, however, is the real monstrosity - a cross between a stage Hamlet and Marlon Brando as the Godfather, he speaks with a lisping Closeau accent and somnolently glides through the film like the Prince of Darkness.

If this film had been allowed to continue as a musical, it would perhaps have been excusable as a light-hearted, brightly coloured spin on the earlier Howard-Oberon version (it is possible to spot where some of the songs might have slotted in, particularly when Sir Percy and the Prince of Wales recite the famous 'We seek him here' doggerel, and the 'chorus' burst into spontaneous mime to the tune of 'Little Brown Jug', as it sounds like!) The (intentional) comedy is quirky, if a little corny (the effeminate French captain who realises he has been duped into thinking the Pimpernel is Chauvelin), and the beautiful external locations add a touch of authenticity that would have boded well for any other film. But as it stands, this is only a shoddily constructed parody/remake, with inferior stars and unnecessary changes to the story. My final sentence on 'The Elusive Pimpernel' (I also have no idea why they chose this title): I think the 1998 series must have confused this with the 1934 material, when sourcing a 'modern' interpretation! Take that as you will.

Given that "The Elusive Pimpernel" was a Powell-Pressburger production, I expected the film to be top-notch. Instead, sadly, it's just okay...and I really think the made for TV version with Anthony Andrews from 1982 is a much more enjoyable film. Why? Well, I think a lot of the fault is casting David Niven in the lead. While an amazingly good actor, here he just seems way too subdued and his character should have been more foppish and effete.

The story is set during the worst days of the French Revolution. It's the so-called 'Reign of Terror' and the country's bloodlust seems unquenchable. Again and again, aristocrats and their entire families are being beheaded all in the name of justice! The Scarlet Pimpernel and his small group of friends are doing their best to save a few families here and there...and they are as a result, among the country's most wanted men...though their actual identities are unknown.

The story covers most of the basic elements of the book but just feels flat. I think part of it is that the TV film works better because it's longer...and can take a more leisurely pace in covering the material. This and Niven's performance really harm this film...which is watchable but lacking. The same can be said when comparing it to the 1934 Alexander Korda version...one that isn't quite as good as the miniseries but nonetheless is an exceptional film. The leads were better and the story seemed much cleverer and lighthearted.

Having recently seen the 1934 Alexander Korda version of "The Scarlet Pimpernel", I found it almost impossible to consider this film other than in relation to its predecessor. It is quite clear in any case that the Powell & Pressburger version is based firmly upon the earlier script rather than upon Baroness Orczy's famous novel "The Scarlet Pimpernel" - or even its sequel, "The Elusive Pimpernel"... Not only do the two films share a number of scenes which have no origin in the novel - the episode of the Prince Regent's coat, Marguerite's own victimisation by the St Cyr family, the firing squad and the ghost, among others - but the dialogue in several of these scenes is word-for-word identical to that of the earlier screenplay.

As such, I consider that the 1950 production may fairly be considered a remake; and like so many remakes of well-known stories, I fear it is not a great success. The changes made for the later production clearly betray nothing more than the advances in cinematography over the intervening years, coupled with what I suspect to have been a bigger budget. In place of blurred sound - the surviving 1934 print is of very poor quality - monochrome film and static, staged studio exteriors, we are treated to Technicolour costumes and numerous location sequences including stately homes on both sides of the Channel, a curricle race on the Brighton road, a full-size sailing vessel and a climax shot on and around Mont St Michel. The action, unfortunately, does not gain thereby. All too often plot elements give the impression of being introduced in order to showcase the lavish production values, rather than the latter enhancing the former.

Neither production is particularly faithful to the original text; but then few great literary adaptations ever are. It is the earlier script, however, for all its occasionally stilted quality, that manages to come closer to the spirit of the novel. Oddly enough, it is where the later script picks up dialogue verbatim, either from its predecessor or direct from the novel, that it generally sounds weakest; out of context, the old dialogue sits ill with the more 'modern' visual style.

Armand St-Just, as a character, is reduced to an unappealing cameo that deprives Marguerite's later actions in his defence of their essential emotional force - the audience has no reason to care about his fate. Likewise, we lose the poignant moment introduced by Korda's script where Sir Percy allows the mask of marital indifference to slip a fraction in the face of Marguerite's unspoken distress, only for her to shut him out from her confidence and resort instead to Chauvelin's devil's bargain - with almost fatal consequences for both of them.

Despite its longer running-time, the remake also contrives to lose many of the effective 'character scenes' that set the mood of the piece; the aristocrats being called out one by one to the tumbrils; Armand's relationship with his sister; the prattle of the bored ladies of fashion as Marguerite poses for her portrait; the affected, artificial attitudes of the circles in which her husband moves; the baffled Chauvelin and the sleeping Sir Percy; and even revolutionary Calais in a snatched peaceful moment, as seen by the 'soldiers' in disguise. As a result, shorn of all this even the main characters seem strangely two-dimensional, and the moments of subtle humour are almost totally lost in favour of a few bald gags towards the end - although the introduction of the unloaded pistol with which Sir Percy so carefully induces his adversary to arm himself is a nice touch.

But most crucially of all, David Niven, who should have been no novice in the art of buckling his swash, totally fails to outshine the memory of Leslie Howard's performance in the part of the actual Scarlet Pimpernel. It is chiefly Howard's portrayal of the title character that raises "The Scarlet Pimpernel" somewhat above the status of dated period piece it would otherwise hold. 'Fair and foolish', he carries off Sir Percy Blakeney to perfection as an eighteenth-century Lord Peter Wimsey, a babbling silly-ass-about-town in public but a quick-witted and resourceful man of action when it counts. Admittedly the script does Niven no favours; but he is neither convincingly languid in the part of the fop (the doggerel scene in the steam-bath, transposed from its original setting in a hide-bound gentlemen's club, becomes simply embarrassing, with Niven popping up through the steam like a pantomime demon) nor sufficiently dashing in his other role. This is simply not a Scarlet Pimpernel that female viewers can hero-worship, or male viewers long to emulate. And sad to say, Niven doesn't really have the looks for the part.

Merle Oberon's quick-tongued and imperious Lady Blakeney was also more appropriate to her part than Margaret Leighton's more colourless blonde rendition, although again the script must take much of the blame. As for the appalling French accents inflicted on Marguerite, Chauvelin, and every other Francophone character in the film... one becomes almost grateful for the frequency with which Margaret Leighton, at least, forgets to maintain hers.

"The Scarlet Pimpernel" was a minor historical drama, mainly notable for an outstanding performance from Leslie Howard. "The Elusive Pimpernel", on the other hand, ranks alongside the 1970s remake of "The Mark of Zorro" - that is, despite added colour and action sequences, somewhere along the line they have managed to lose the essential heart of the story. This version was supposedly planned as a musical - the mind boggles!

David Niven takes on the mantle of Baroness Orczy's hero in this classy but a little lightweight take on the escapades of the "Scarlet Pimpernel". Hugely successful at smuggling doomed artisto's from under the nose of the Reign of Terror, the French authorities charge "Chauvelin" (Cyril Cusack) to track down the culprit. He has some leverage with the new and glamorous "Lady Blakeney" (Margaret Leighton) and so offers her the life of her brother if she will agree to help him. She just happens to be married to the foppish "Sir Percy", but is he so useless as his persona suggests? Niven is on quite good form in this; there is enough intrigue to keep it moving along well and Leighton can always be relied upon to deliver competently (even if this is far from her best effort). It's not the best Powell & Pressberger film, but it is still a polished adventure with a soupçon of humour as we head to an exciting last fifteen minutes. Perhaps not as good as Leslie Howard's 1934 iteration, but Niven looks like he enjoyed making it and I enjoyed watching it, too.