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By
NICK ZEGARAC
There is a point in film
history where Hollywood en masse simply said
"enough!" and rejected the swashbuckler as a
viable genre in entertainment. The abandonment was
only partially due to the fact that cinema's
greatest rogue -- Errol Flynn -- was more of a
scallywag in real life than he was on film. This
reputation for debauchery ironically made Flynn
more sexy than ever to his ardent admirers. For
his reputation proved to have galvanic Teflon
coating that effortlessly withstood negative
publicity following his acquittal of statutory
rape charges. Ironically, it was Flynn's hedonism
that put an end to both Flynn's career and Flynn
himself. He died prematurely. In the wake of that
loss, a slew of would-be heirs to the throne came
and went, each marking their territory with little
staying power. Of these, Stewart Granger proved to
be the most successful, though his tenure in no
way compared to Flynn's. After a series of minor
parts, Granger emerged on screen in one of the all
time great, most lavishly produced spectacles of
the 1950s.
"Scaramouche" is the somewhat convoluted tale of a
womanizing rogue, Andrea Moreau (Stewart Granger)
who courts a gypsy player, Lenore (Eleanor Parker)
but ultimately falls for the purity and grace of
courtesan Aline de Gavrillac de Bourbon (Janet
Leigh). Andrea is debonair, carefree and somewhat
boorish at first. Mel Ferrer appears as the
villain, Noel, the Marquis de Maynes. But Andrea's
heart is set upon revenge after Noel brutally
kills his best friend in a duel. Though Andrea
vows revenge his attempts are thwarted by the
Marquis who has powerful friends. Then, one night
while wallowing in his bitter disdain an idea
comes to Andrea: He will hone in his abilities as
a swordsman by night while masquerading as a play
actor by day. As Scaramouche, the bit player of a
traveling theatrical troupe, Andrea draws nearer
to Noel, all the while plotting his death and
falling in love with Noel's intended, Aline, who
is at first mistaken as Andrea's sister.
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, the studio that had produced
the original silent version of "Scaramouche"
spared absolutely no expense in mounting this
super-production. Incorporating sets and costumes
from "A Tale of Two Cities" and "Marie Antoinette"
the film positively glows with the decadence and
regal splendor of French court. And the
swashbuckling climaxes with a spectacular, no
holds barred duel inside a Parisian opera house
(actually an MGM set) that is as magnificently
grand and opulent as anything ever seen. Both
Stewart Granger and Mel Ferrer did their own
swordplay and stunt work, often teetering three
stories above a gathered crowd from the edge of
balconies. Though this sort of high adventure
seems to be in short supply these days, the
magnificent production values and incomparable set
pieces truly set "Scaramouche" in a class apart
from other like-minded film fare.
Warner Brothers Home Video has given us an
adequate transfer. Even though no attempt has been
made to minimize or clean up age-related
artifacts, this transfer has held up remarkably
well over time. Colors are fully saturated, bold
and, at times, incredibly lifelike. There is an
inconsistency in color balancing, not from scene
to scene, but from shot to shot, and the entire
image does have a decidedly "warm" look to it --
but this is in keeping with the lushness of the
film's original photography. Several scenes suffer
from mis-registration of the three strip
Technicolor process, an oversight that creates
ghostly halos around fine details and generally
blurs the image. Still, these instances are kept
to a bare minimum. Digital anomalies such as
pixelization, edge enhancement, aliasing and
shimmering are all absent, making for a very
smooth visual presentation. During the darker
scenes, black levels, though deep and rich, tend
to lose fine detail, but once again, for a bare
bones restoration effort, the visual quality will
not disappoint. The audio is mono but nicely
balanced. Extras include Mel Ferrer's
recollections on the making of the film and a
theatrical trailer. |