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Out for Blood! Pirate Style…

03 Nov

Higham? Did you say your name was Higam?

— David DeWitt

 
6 Comments

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  1. Anonymous

    November 4, 2008 at 3:35 am

    Though by your “key” words you mean this photo to be from Captain Blood, I'm surprised — looks very much like a Sea Hawk pose. Either way, great shot. Well done, kiddo. Ivanhoe
    Incidentally, I think EF looked better in the Sea Hawk — especially in the Rose Garden — than before or after.

     

  2. Anonymous

    November 4, 2008 at 5:01 am

    Yes, I thought this was a Captain Blood still for some reason until Linc mentioned Sea Hawk! Now, you mention it as well! Quite a blunder, innit? Yes – he looks pretty serious, doesn't he? Arno suggested the words underneath the photo – quite fitting! I will go change the keywords to make it correct…
    And I tip my hat to both of you for letting me know of my mistake!

     

  3. Anonymous

    November 5, 2008 at 5:25 am

    He and Alan and David Bruce have just come out of the swamp, and have boarded the Albatross; he's about to be welcomed aboard his own ship by Gilbert Roland. Plus his whole crew who stayed behind have been murdered. Is it any wonder he looks so happy?
    It always surprises me that in the film he and Gilbert Roland never crossed swords again and settled the score.

     

  4. Anonymous

    November 5, 2008 at 2:22 pm

    David, that makes more sense. Of course, the scene is still vivid in my mind. It was in this condition that he is captured and put in irons in the galley as a slave to row. In my opinion, I liked Flynn in this film, and the film itself, better than any other but Robin Hood — and feel that EF never looked quite as dashing or handsome as this again. And Flora Robeson (spelling) was superb as Queen E. Far better, in my opinion, that Bette Davis ever was. It also is one of the few films that does not appear “dated” when viewed now. Errol, whenever he mentioned it, spoke a certain wistfulness — as if things went downhill from then on for him. Sir Ivanhoe

     

  5. Anonymous

    November 5, 2008 at 5:40 pm

    Well, Sire, I think he was dead right. It was just over a year after this he had Peggy Satterlee aboard his yacht (ahem) and Arno was lost at Sea. Things just seemed to go downhill from there. I agree, he never looked better, black-and-white photography never looked better, and Korngold never sounded better. Next to They Died With Their Boots On, this is by far my favorite Flynn film.
    I'd be interested to see what you would have looked like as a Elizabethan privateer . . .

     

  6. Anonymous

    November 5, 2008 at 6:21 pm

    My Liege: When I played pirates (and cowboys and Injuns) on the rubble of my neighbors' bombed houses I always saw myself as one of the real-life Sea Hawks, a favorite privateer of 'Er 'Ighness Queen Elizabeth, and of course it was always up to me to save England from a fate worse than death — anyone ever figured out what fate that was? — like Drake and the Aarmada. No wooden swords for me and my mates. We designed swords from iron or steel we found in the rubble, bound the handles with cloth stolen from our mothers' linen closet so we could “hear” the clash of good English steel!
    Jump to two years ago. I was in England, a rare thing for me, visiting my niece Cora, whose husband is a record producer and managed the Pink Floyd, and on impulse I suggested we spend the day at the Tower of London. Game, she agreed. Cora is 50-something now but still has long auburn locks and that English white skin. Slim and curvy as a young matador. We went from room to room, dungeon to dungeon, and then to traitor's gate and finally we were on the winding stone stairway in the Tower under which the two little princes are buried (were buried?). For some reason Cora was several steps ahead me, and jokingly on the square she pretended to hang her long hair out one of the arrow-slit windows and said: “Ah, woe is me, sir knight. I have been trapped in this dismal tower for years by my evil master. Can thy not saveth me this day?” Now you gotta know Cora, who drives an old beatup Bentley like Stirling Moss and has that same “up yours” attitude as Errol had, to realize how funny this was. But I responded like a true knight and said gallantly: “Don't despair, fair maiden, I shall rescue you forthwith!” With that I waved my imaginary rapier, slash, swish, slash at the imaginary evil knights, and then jumped down the steps separating me from Cora — only to trip and fall on my royal ass, tumbling, and yelling, almost knocking Cora over as I collapsed a few steps past her — Oh shit, she said, are you okay, darling? (I insist she doesn't call me uncle). Before I could answer, I heard all this giggling and looking around saw at least a dozen uniformed school children (convent, I think) gathered below finding me the most amusing sight in the world.
    Mortifying, my dear friends. Humbling and mortifying.
    But, Sir Arno, before that fall I was the most dashing, magnificent looking knight, privateer, pirate, and Crusader your eyes have even beheld!