Hello. Just wanted to show off my certificate that I received from the Errol Flynn Society. It is gorgeous, fun and a kick in the pants. I had fun displaying it at work and received quite a few comments and a few “raised eyebrows”. If you haven't joined yet, maybe this will entice you to do so!
— Kathleen
This is a picture for Robert's Then and Now. However, it may not be the tree used in scenes . . .it was taken in 1958.
— Kathleen
In the sub-antarctic climes of Hobart, far removed from any sirocco breeze there was another history. A scant history of a young boy who could never have known what life had in store for him. Hobart was Australia's second settled city. Its early architecture is still very evident today.One only has to take a casual stroll around Battery Point to achieve a sense of colonial history. Ostensibly not much has changed over a hundred years except for a careful gentrification of this inner city area.
Its not hard to imagine the young Errol frequenting this area especially when we consider that tall ships and clippers would tie up along the foreshores of Salamanca Place as more modern vessels do until this very day.Errol's love of the great wide oceans certainly must have been imprinted at an early age and indeed he may have wondered what good wind lay in wait for him.
During the mid 1980's I was fortunate to make the acquaintance of two gentleman from Errol's youth.Don Norman and Alan Mansfield. Each were childhood friends with Errol and all three would attend boxing training together. Don was to tell me “Errol could hold his hands up, he had to, he was picked on for his looks” ! Whilst each fought in different weight divisions they certainly applied themselves to their training as both Errol and Alan were state champions in their respective divisions.Alan was divulge to me that it was very sentimental to him whenever he watched 'Gentleman Jim', “I felt that a part of me was in the ring with him”! “Errol could really box”!
Alan (Mansfield) and Errol had often walked to school together and in his reminiscing he would ask me to forgive an old mans tears. “After Errol left Hobart to attend school in Sydney , New South Wales, I never saw him again although I watched his career with great interest”. …”but I did meet up with him again during WW2 whilst on shore leave in SanFrancisco”. At this point in our conversation, Alan's demeanour becomes light and animated. “There we were marching down a street in SanFrancisco and we passed an open air restaurant that was one story high. ..and then I heard a voice from my past, “Alan , Alan old sport” ! “I looked up and it was my old chum…he was my best friend when were kids”. Alan was to tell me that Errol was always on the lookout for any Australians . ” Come up here and have lunch with me” was Errols cry. Alan replied ” I'd like to but I've got about eighty mates here”. “Well bring them up with you then”.
Alan Mansfield had been reunited with his best mate from school and he an Errol and eighty other servicemen had the afternoon of their lives. I think its demonstrative of Errol's affection for Hobart and Tasmania and those early years . I think its wonderful that Rory has returned to Hobart in recent times. I know it will help her connect to the formative years and heritage of the man she knows as 'The Baron' .
…thats all for this blog entry……travel well everyone
— Chris Driscoll
Hello All,
I recently purchased a book entitled “Reporters: Memoirs of A Young Newspaperman”, by Will Fowler, the son of Gene Fowler. In it, he mentions Errol Flynn several times. David thought perhaps you’d like the following quote, taken from page 111.
“Shortly before Flynn’s death, he showed my father his “My Wicked Wicked Ways” manuscript, in which the perfidious prank of “stealing John Barrymore’s body” was fantasized. I had also read it, and when Flynn phoned pop for his critique, my father asked why he’d written the odious squib. The actor (who had been heavily into drugs and alcohol at the time) said: “I just wrote it in for laughs because that’s what I wish my friends would do for me directly after my final curtain.”
Bob
— Bob
Hello, all
Here are my most recent Then & Now shots of The Charge Of The Light Brigade, taken at Lasky Mesa in Agoura, Ca. The horizons line up with the April of 1936 scenes of the Chakoti Garrison.
The first shot shows the garrison location, facing east towards Woodland Hills.
The second shows the tribes on the plateau, facing southwest towards Agoura.
The third shows the garrison from the inside, facing south towards Hidden Hills.
The fourth shows the troops from the garrison gate, facing west towards Agoura.
The last shot shows the garrison from the inside facing north towards Chatsworth.
Hope you enjoy the results!
Regards,
rƒ
— Robert
Here are three photos of the home at Bella Vista in which I lived for three years starting in December of 1981. On the door closeup you can see Barrymore's crest with the coiled serpent over the JB.
Enjoy!
Robert
— Robert
Here are three photos I took of Mulholland Farm on April 10, 1981 (before my October, 1983 tour of the house when Rick Nelson lived there). The first photo shows the house from Mulholland Drive, the second photo shows the stable and part of the casino, which is shown fully in the third photo. How sad the house no longer exists.
Enjoy.
Robert
— Robert
Greetings
Attached is another great item from the “Adventures of Robin Hood” digital screening in Hollywood in May. The painting was recently discovered in a home in San Bernardino, Ca., and someone earlier had regrettably cut much of it away. It was wonderful to see nonetheless.
R
— Robert
By DAVE KEHR
Published: August 25, 2008
Errol Flynn Westerns Collection Review:
John Ford’s “Stagecoach,” the legend goes, rescued the adult western from the B-movie category into which it had fallen during the first years of the Depression, making it safe again for big budgets and big stars.
But that is an honor rightfully shared with Errol Flynn. This unruly Australian-born star lent his immense popularity to three hugely successful westerns in a row, beginning with “Dodge City,” released in April 1939, a month after “Stagecoach,” and continuing in 1940 with “Virginia City” and “Santa Fe Trail.” (“Stagecoach” was itself preceded by Henry King’s Technicolor “Jesse James,” released in January 1939, starring Tyrone Power.)
These Flynn westerns paired him with his Warner Brothers screen sweetheart, Olivia de Havilland, and were directed by Michael Curtiz, a Hungarian immigrant. Curtiz’s minimal level of engagement with the genre is suggested by the command he is said to have issued during the shooting of “The Charge of the Light Brigade”: “Bring on the empty horses!” — meaning the riderless mounts.
Apparently it wouldn’t do to have a bunch of foreign interlopers behind the rebirth of this most American of American genres. So Flynn’s role in the history of the western has largely been forgotten, despite the fact that he went on to appear in five more, including Raoul Walsh’s 1941 classic “They Died With Their Boots On.” But now that Warner Home Video has brought together four superbly mastered Flynn westerns — “Montana,” “Rocky Mountain,” “San Antonio” and “Virginia City” — in “Errol Flynn: The Warner Brothers Western Collection,” the moment is ripe for reappraisal.
On one level Flynn’s transition from swashbucklers to westerns makes perfect sense: after “Captain Blood” (1935) and “The Adventures of Robin Hood” (1938), his screen character had grown to such epic proportions that it required a correspondingly epic stage. And after he did his bit for the British Empire, the American West was just about the only other arena that could contain him.
But on another level, as Flynn is said to have observed, his accent and manner were too Continental to fit smoothly into the imaginary space of the American frontier. The screenplays for his westerns — many written by Robert Buckner — continually come up with ingenious explanations for the hero’s curious courtliness and exotic speech patterns: in “Dodge City” he’s an Irish soldier of fortune who finds himself herding cows in Kansas; “Montana” (1950) just throws in the towel and identifies Flynn as an Australian sheep farmer (among the many professions Flynn practiced) who dreams of bringing these white, woolly creatures to western cattle country.
But who could accept Flynn, with his pencil moustache and rakish smile, as a humble cowpoke in a 10-gallon hat? Warner Brothers got around this issue mainly through costuming, dressing Flynn in long frock coats that set him apart from the bandannas and bluejeans of the supporting players. With their slimmer profile, these costumes evoked the tailored three-piece suits of the 1930s far more than the mail-order dry goods of the 1880s. Wide-brimmed, flat-topped hats completed the ensemble, adding an ineffable touch of urbanity (and even a hint of zoot suit flair). This look established Flynn as a man apart, an aristocrat passing through the West without necessarily being a part of it.
The four films in the new set are interesting but of uneven quality. (Not included are “Dodge City” and “They Died With Their Boots On,” which were part of Warner Brothers’ “Errol Flynn Signature Collection: Volume 1”; “Santa Fe Trail,” which has fallen into the public domain and is available in several dubious versions; and “Silver River,” a fine Raoul Walsh film from 1948.)
“Virginia City” casts Flynn as a Union officer who escapes from a Confederate prison and is sent west on a secret mission to intercept a shipment of silver intended for the depleted coffers of the Confederacy. Its oddest element is Humphrey Bogart, pre-stardom, as an outlaw whose accent wavers unpredictably between French and Spanish. As a director, Curtiz never seemed happier than when he was staging elaborate tracking shots through crowded cafes (including a famous one, a couple of years later, under Bogart’s management). The gigantic saloon set of “Virginia City” gives Curtiz several opportunities to indulge himself, as Flynn and his opposite number, a Confederate officer played by Randolph Scott, compete for the affections of the star attraction, a singer played by Miriam Hopkins.
“San Antonio” (1945) repeats the formula, although this time in Technicolor and with the regal Alexis Smith as the singer. The director is David Butler, best known for his musical comedies (“Calamity Jane,” 1953); not surprisingly, he emphasizes the comedy (in the hands of S. Z. Sakall and Florence Bates) and musical elements. (Smith is a vision in white satin and rhinestones, performing “Some Sunday Morning.”)
With a brief running time of 76 minutes, “Montana” has the feel of a troubled production. Both Vincent Sherman and Raoul Walsh did some directing work on the project, which was ultimately signed by Ray Enright. Near the end of his Warner Brothers contract, Flynn was starting to show signs of his drug and alcohol addictions, and the film, despite some handsome Technicolor interiors photographed by Karl Freund, is choppy and lifeless.
But Flynn’s final western, the little-known “Rocky Mountain,” turns out to be a small discovery. Its black-and-white photography and restricted scale suggest the rapidly shrinking budgets that accompanied the late-’40s collapse of the studio system, yet both of these elements work to the benefit of this taut little tale of a Confederate raiding party, led by Flynn, pinned down on a mountaintop by Union troops and Shoshone Indians. The director, William Keighley, was Warner Brothers’ specialist in adapting Broadway stage comedies (“The Man Who Came to Dinner,” 1942), and he makes the most of the confined setting, drawing sharp characterizations from a supporting cast that includes Guinn Williams, Slim Pickens (in his first film) and Howard Petrie, as well as Patrice Wymore (soon to become the third and last Mrs. Flynn) as the troubling female presence.
Like several westerns of the period, “Rocky Mountain” is defined by a very unwestern sense of claustrophobia and entrapment. With the slightest push, the picture would be a film noir, and its climax is appropriately somber. Much of the credit must go to the cinematographer, Ted McCord, a great landscape artist (“The Treasure of the Sierra Madre”) who was also fluent in the high-contrast style of studio noir (“Flamingo Road,” “Young Man With a Horn”). The western, in its infinite richness, continues to yield surprises. (Warner Home Video, $49.98, Now On Sale for $34.99, not rated)
Thanks to Tom
— David DeWitt
