The Prisoner of Zenda (Hong Kong Import)

The Prisoner of Zenda may be romantic nonsense, but it's great romantic nonsense...the 1937 version, that is. The 1952 version, a nearly word-for-word, scene-for-scene remake, comes across as a pint of professionally made but still weak beer. The difference lies in the performances.

The story is all about honor and duty, with a great dollop of noble love added to the mix. In a small middle European country, the king, Rudolph (Ronald Colman/Stewary Granger), is to be crowned, and then he will marry the Princess Flavia (Madeleine Carroll/Deborah Kerr). But Rudolf is a hard-drinking wastrel, the despair of Colonel Zapt (C. Aubrey Smith/Louis Calhern), an elderly, upright military man who served Rudolf's father and is determined to serve the crown no matter how lacking in substance the son is. But Rudolf has a half-brother, Prince Michael (Raymond Massey/Robert Douglas), who is determined to take the throne. His henchman is the thoroughly unprincipled, charming and murderous Rupert of Hentzau (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr./James Mason). Into this seething royal mix arrives Rudolf Rassendyll (also Ronald Colman/Stewart Granger) from England, looking for a spot of good fishing. Due to a liaison years and years ago, it turns out that Rudolph and the king are remote cousins...and are as alike as identical twins. Rudolf and the king, accompanied by Zapt and a young aide, meet by chance near the king's hunting lodge. Before long the king has been drugged and abducted, Rudolph has agreed to Zapt's pleas to impersonate the king for the coronation so as to foil Black Michael's and Rupert's schemes. "Englishman," Zapt says to Rassendyll, "I'm much older than you. As a man grows old he begins to believe in fate. Fate sent you here!" Ah, but then Rudolph meets Flavia and they fall in love. Rudolph must choose whether or not to save the king, who is now imprisoned in Rupert's castle. If he saves the king, he will lose Flavia. All this is going on amidst coronation balls, inside sumptuous palaces and moat-ringed castles, outside stone chalets, in dank dungeons, on galloping horses and with pistols, swords and knives in hand.

Ronald Colman's urbanity and solid projection of a man of honor forms the keystone to the 1937 movie. Colman was a major leading man in the silents of the late Twenties. With his inimitable, cultured voice layered on to a strong, natural screen presence, he became one of the great stars of the Thirties and well into the Forties. He promised a kind of natural, non-competitive camaraderie to men. To women, he seemed to promise nights of romantic passion but without too much emphasis on love's mechanics. Although he makes a dashing sword fighter, he was not the athlete that Stewart Granger was. Granger, however, lacks most of the natural nobility that Colman brings. In diction and line reading alone, Colman outclasses Granger.

The 1937 version also is blessed with an outstanding performance by Aubrey Smith as Colonel Zapt. Smith specialized in craggy aging Englishmen, driven by duty and often irascible toward the young puppies he had to deal with. He's just that here, an old man determined to do his duty and to see that others do, too.

And for a villain, Black Michael may be driven by envy and jealousy, but it is Rupert of Hentzau who seems to be driven by the sheer delight of being reprehensible. "I don't like women who lie to me," he says to Prince Michael's lover. "They don't usually do, as a matter of fact." Then he smiles. "I usually lie to them." Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. tackles the role with great panache; he's very good. Unfortunately, he has to compete with the performance of James Mason in the 1952 remake. It is Mason's performance that makes the 1952 version so rewarding to watch. Mason could slide more irony and amused contempt into his reading of a line than just about any other actor. His delighted and subtle satisfaction with his own murderous betrayals make him impossible to dislike. Pity the actors, particularly Stewart Granger, who had to share scenes with him.

And what are we left with? Who could say it better than the king himself. "You couldn't have served me better, cousin," he tells Rudolf with simple sincerity toward the end of the film. "You taught me how to be a king."

The 1937 version is in black and white. It's a good transfer. The 1952 version is in color and looks fine.

David O. Selznick's 1937 version of Anthony Hope's oft-filmed and equally as oft-imitated warhorse The Prisoner of Zenda is often hailed as the best of many versions, and it's certainly a classic example of the genius of the Hollywood system in the Golden Age. With the plot so familiar even then - as with Gone With the Wind, Selznick was warned that the film would be a disaster, the producer betting successfully that the impending coronation of King Edward VII of Great Britain would create public interest for the Ruritanian romantic adventure - much of the strength is in the pitch perfect casting. Ronald Colman is a perfect Rudolf Rassendyl, charming, heroic and decent against all odds, the perfect gentleman but with a likeable sense of self-deprecating wit that keeps him from being remote or stuffy, though those are qualities that work against him as the uncrowned king a distant family scandal has left him the identical double of: he's not bad in his second role, but Colman never really did dissolute. Madeleine Carroll is the perfect princess and Mary Astor makes the most of the meatier role as the villain's mistress trying to save him (and her own place by his side) from his ambition. Raymond Massey's sneering looks and Old Testament disdain ensured that he never had to overexert himself to make a convincing villain as the illegitimate "Black" Michael, and he glowers splendidly here, though Douglas Fairbanks Jr. never quite gets the chances from the screenplay that he needs to outshine him as the more charismatically dastardly Rupert of Hentzau, something that would be corrected in MGM's1952 version. C. Aubrey Smith and a young David Niven also make an impression on the side of the angels.

Of course, producer David O. Selznick was as much of a star as any of his cast - even though more than ably directed by John Cromwell (alongside an uncredited George Cukor, who shot the lovers' final farewell scene, and W.S. Van Dyke II, who shot the final duel), there's no doubt that Selznick is the true auteur here. It's lavishly produced, with no expense spared design by Lyle Wheeler (albeit largely limited to exteriors: Selznick never had much of a backlot) and some attention-grabbling camerawork from James Wong Howe such as the long crane shot down a magnificent ceremonial staircase to a waiting reception, never letting the attention flag en route to the grand duel between Colman and Fairbanks Jr. It's never quite a match for the very best of Errol Flynn's swashbucklers (though Flynn would have made a better King than a Rassendyl), but 70 years on it still holds up as grand entertainment.

MGM's 1952 version of The Prisoner of Zenda is often dismissed as a shot-for-shot remake with nothing added but Technicolor, but while it does often closely follow the blueprint of the excellent 1937 Ronald Colman version it also improves on the screenplay to a surprising degree thanks to Noel Langley's script polish while offering at least one better action sequence. Rupert of Hentzau always had the best lines, but with James Mason in the part, the role is considerably expanded to particularly good effect, with Mason making the most of the charismatic villainy even if there's some rather obvious stunt doubling for him in the final swordfight. There's even the addition of a second scene between Stewart Granger's player king and Mason's charmingly untrustworthy rogue as befits Mason's star status, with Mason winning on points despite having the more ridiculous hairstyle. Not that Granger is any slouch here himself, at the height of his powers in the dual lead role and even allowing the real king a bit more dignity than usual too (though look out for the moment where Granger inadvertently reveals he's a pipe man offscreen when he has to light a cigarette!). While Louis Calhern isn't quite up to C. Aubrey Smith in the original as Colonel Zapt, the always likeable Robert Coote outshines David Niven in the earlier film as Fritz and Deborah Kerr makes for an excellent leading lady. Tremendous entertainment.

Although it's a shame that the originally announced 1922 silent version is not included on the DVD, but it still makes a good package: the 1937 version also includes a radio adaptation, the cartoon `The Wayward Pups and short film `Penny Wisdomn' while the 1952 includesa James Fitzpatrick travelog `Land of theTaj Mahal,' the Oscar-winning Tom and Jerry cartoon Johann Mouse and the original theatrical trailer.

While on holiday an Englishman who resembles the king of a small European nation gets mixed up in palace intrigue and royal romance when his royal doppelgänger is kidnapped.

A Technicolor remake of Anthony Hope's much filmed story sees Stewart Granger, Deborah Kerr and James Mason star, while directing is Richard Thorpe, composing the score is Alfred Newman and cinematography is by Joseph Ruttenberg.

Lush and at times lavish, this MGM production is however rather ponderous at times. The first hour positively crawls and while Granger is just fine in the dual roles of Rudolf Rassendyl/King Rudolf V, the dynamism and breezy pace of the Ronald Colman starring 1937 version is sadly lacking. A better director than Richard "One Take Only" Thorpe could have made better use of the budget. There's also a distinct lack originality in the piece since it's practically the same film as the 37 movie. Even using the same Newman score. You have to wonder what was the point really? Still, there are some enjoyable moments in here to not make it a complete waste of time. James Mason, in spite of it being a rare occasion where he's miscast, is worth a watch for his line in campy villainy. While Ruttenberg's camera-work doesn't waste the chance to swash that buckle in a Technicolor sheen. The duelling sequence, that sadly seems to take forever to arrive, is well choreographed (better than anything in the 37 movie actually), and the costumes by Walter Plunkett are very pleasing on the eye. 5/10