O Prisioneiro de Zenda

Hollywood has always had a philosophy, that if a film makes money, either do a sequel, or remake it! While sequels are most common (offering original cast members, older and less believable in their roles, performing variations of the same plot that made the original film popular...usually less successfully...), remakes have a long history, as well, with some remakes an improvement over the original (John Huston's THE MALTESE FALCON far outshines both of the earlier sound versions), some just as good (1939's BEAU GESTE, with Gary Cooper, has as loyal an audience as Ronald Colman's silent version), and some truly disastrous (why anyone would even CONSIDER remaking Frank Capra's LOST HORIZON, much less turning it into a 70s MUSICAL, defies comprehension!)

MGM, in their 1952 remake of 1937's classic THE PRISONER OF ZENDA, tried to surpass the earlier version by creating a 'scene-for-scene' duplicate of the film, while utilizing some of their biggest stars in each role, reworking Alfred Newman's original score, and shooting it all in glorious Technicolor. The end result, however, was a mixed bag...

Stewart Granger, MGM's resident 50s swashbuckler, certainly was more athletic than Ronald Colman in the lead, but lacked the older actor's panache, and more importantly, 'The Voice', that distinctive, oft-imitated but never duplicated speaking voice that made Colman so unique. It still wins hearts, nearly 50 years after his death, and was the reason Colman made the transition from a star of silent pictures to sound so effortlessly. While Deborah Kerr was as regally beautiful as Madeleine Carroll, she lacked the fragile quality that made Carroll's doomed love of the commoner Colman so heartbreaking. Louis Calhern, in C. Aubrey Smith's role, as Col. Zapt? No way! Robert Coote replacing David Niven as Fritz had some novelty value, as both would costar, twelve years later, in the television series, THE ROGUES, but the younger Niven was far more appropriate in the role of a young but loyal assistant to Zapt. While Robert Douglas was every bit as sinister as Raymond Massey as Black Michael, the most disastrous miscasting came with the film's other major villain, Rupert of Hentzau. While James Mason was a truly gifted actor, he was too old, and actually too villainous in the role! While the character has to be truly jaded and unscrupulous, he also has to be such a young, likable scoundrel that his escape, after the climactic duel, disappoints no one, not even the hero he nearly defeats. The role ideally suited Douglas Fairbanks Jr., whose prowess with a sword was unmatched, and whose scenes with Colman were instant classics of sophisticated wit. When Granger and Mason repeated the same lines, their exchanges came across as typical 'good guy vs. bad guy' dialog, lacking the unique chemistry Colman and Fairbanks brought to the roles.

As for shooting the film in Technicolor...While the regal color photography certainly made the Palace scenes more impressive (don't forget, Great Britain was crowning Elizabeth as Queen when the remake was released, and American audiences were rabid Anglophiles, totally enthralled by all the Pomp and Circumstance), it also 'dated' the story, making the adventure seem quaint and old-fashioned in the Cold War era. The black-and-white photography of 1937, with it's masterful use of light and shadow, gave the earlier version a timeless quality it still carries to this day.

David Niven, in his autobiography ('The Moon's a Balloon'), said he thought MGM's remake was a ridiculous idea, and that he was pleased that the newer production, even as a scene-for-scene copy, failed. While I think he was, perhaps, too hard on the Granger film, I have to agree that no other version has ever even come close to the magic of Ronald Colman's 1937 classic!

The old swashbuckling mythology in capital letters: King, Country, Duty, Courage, and Honor, featuring a handsome, fearless Hero; a beautiful and perfectly behaved Princess; a stalwart Elderly Advisor; a grasping Villain; his insinuating Right Hand; and so on. It's so stereotyped that it could take up a whole chapter of Carl Jung.

So it's amazing that this production manages to pull it off so well. Maybe it's the unusually effective screenplay, which doesn't waste a line, and somehow manages not to rehash creaky dialogue. Maybe it's the actors, who carry their roles with as much dignity as if this is the first time anyone's ever done them. Or maybe it's James Mason as the only recognizable human in the story, a charming and calculating psychopath with razor-sharp wit and stunning powers of manipulation.

However they did it, the results are a joy. Swordplay, love affairs, grand balls, royalty, and political intrigue - it all works. Put your brain in low gear, sit back, and enjoy the ride.

"He has the appearance and manner of the king, yet he's really a lookalike… and on his shoulders rests all hope of foiling a blackguard's plot to usurp the throne. Adventure, pageantry and royal intrigue are forged at sword point in the two finest screen versions of the beloved 1894 novel filmed many times," according to the Warner Home Video release, "Ronald Colman plays the double role in the resilient 1937 David O. Selznick production (Side A), making palpable the heartbreak of the royal stand-in whose gallantry is tested by his love for the real king's fiancée (Madeleine Carroll). Stewart Granger stars in the eye-filling 1952 color version (Side B), romancing Deborah Kerr and wielding bold steel in the film's bravura climactic duel."

Thanks to whoever at Warner/Turner decided to release these two versions of "The Prisoner of Zenda" together. Considering the way things are usually handled in Hollywood, the obvious has become inspired. Adding extra movies, for less than the price of two (or more), also encourages sales. They could have added "The Prisoner of Zenda" (1922) for even better measure, assuming the three "Metro" features are owned by Warner Bros. Of the two available here, the 1937 "black-and-white" version wins the sword fight, though the 1952 color version is inoffensive and beautifully photographed (by Joseph Ruttenberg).

Examined together, the three films support the widely held belief that the more villainous role in a drama is often the one to act. In this case, observe how the character "Rupert of Hentzau" supports this thesis. In the 1927 version, the role made Ramon Novarro a star. In the 1937 and 1952 versions, Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and James Mason are always above or equal to anyone else in the cast. The fact that Mr. Colman can his own against Mr. Fairbanks helps make their version a classic. Lewis Stone appears in two versions, and Louis Calhern played the lead on stage. In each case, "The Prisoner of Zenda" is an attractive production.

****** The Prisoner of Zenda (11/4/52) Richard Thorpe ~ Stewart Granger, Deborah Kerr, James Mason, Louis Calhern

I can never watch too many of these movies. The story was beautiful, but not overdone. Stewart Granger gives a great performance, and we get the added bonus of another stellar performance by James Mason. Of course, the breathtaking (Dame) Deborah Kerr is the real reason to watch -- and wonder how an actress can be so beautiful *and* so talented. My only regret is that she wasn't more prominent in the story. And, as usual, she doesn't get the man. Oh well. The cinematography, the costumes, the action -- all blend perfectly with the compelling story and the great acting to make this a "must see" movie.

Seems to me that if you're going to do a re-make of an earlier film, you need to have a better approach than just to refilm it, scene-by-scene, from its immediate predecessor.

Watching this 1952 version of "The Prisoner of Zenda," it emerges an astonishing "carbon copy" of its 15-year-old vintage model, only with different actors and in color.

What was most surprising was using Alfred Newman's 1937 music almost note-for-note. Conrad Salinger, MGM arranger-orchestrator-composer, seemed to have merely pulled out the old score, dusted off the parts, and passed them out to the MGM Orchestra to re-record.

Since this was also the music used for the now historic early December '39 sneak-preview of "Gone With the Wind" (outside of Los Angeles prior to its premiere before Max Steiner finished his work) it's even more strange to hear it here.

While the '52 cast was talented and the production values intact, there were no particularly fresh insights or viewpoints offered here, resulting in an efficiently "cloned" confection.

Less that an auspicious feather in MGM's cinematic folio, it still probably went over well with a new "generation" unfamiliar with either the '37 film or the original novel.