The Scarlet Blade & The Brigand of Kandahar
January 27th, 2012
Hammer Film Productions are best known for their legendary horror films; from Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing in The Curse of Frankenstein, to Lee’s demonic role in Dracula, the studio has always been synonymous with British horror. But this month sees the DVD release of two films outside of Hammer’s well documented history in horror; instead showing the studio in the no less hammy territory of the swashbuckler. Released respectively in 1964 and ’65, The Scarlet Blade and The Brigand of Kandahar are both the kind of historical swashbuckling adventure you’d watch on a Sunday afternoon, each with its own open-shirted hero, creepy villain and busty dame.
The action scenes are outstandingly clumsy and the acting never drops below theatrical. It’s hardly worth pointing out the endless clichés which form the foundation for these two unabashed adventure films. Evil, wine guzzling villains vs. brave, bare-chested heroes; sword fights and fisticuffs; galloping horses, secret passages and men getting whipped in torture chambers. It’s all here. Like much of the kitsch, pseudo-romantic gibberish I used to devour as a child, these two films are just as fun to watch as they are woefully bad on closer inspection. Therefore much of any viewer’s enjoyment will be reliant upon either their penchant for nostalgic silliness or an interest in these films as cultural-historic products of a lost studio.
So, nostalgic silliness it is then. Yet, before I condemn these films to the pit of nonsense, it’s worth pointing out that they aren’t completely dictated by cliché. Surprisingly there is a level of narrative and moral ‘ambiguity’ in both these intrepid adventures, which, whether intentional or not, gives them a little more scope for discussion. Such ambiguity comes primarily from the writer and director John Gilling’s choice of historical period for both features.
The Scarlet Blade is set in the English Civil War and involves a group of royalist rebels trying in vain to save the heir to the throne. The film’s hero is the leader of this ragtag bunch of rebels and is given the historically impossible task of saving the King. Therefore the film puts its hero in the unfamiliar territory of inevitable failure. This means the usual triumphant victory is supplanted by a more down beat ending. Sure, our hero has survived and won the girl but they have also lost their war. The film leaves them in hiding, their fate uncertain, subverting the usual closed caption of more traditional adventures.
Moral ambiguity is manifested in Oliver Reed’s role as the Machiavellian Captain Sylvester. Reed’s effortlessly smooth delivery hides a barbed, bitter edge. Yet, like our unsuccessful hero, Reed’s character doesn’t quite live up to what cliché would normally dictate for such a villainous sleaze. His shifting allegiance throughout the film suggest the usual Machiavellian conniving, but the final impression of the character is one of vulnerability and confusion. More Othello than Iago perhaps. This, along with Reed’s indelible presence, means that our confused Captain ends up usurping the hero as the really interesting character in the film.
The Brigand of Kandahar is just as slippery when it comes to goodies and baddies. Set in British colonial India, the film doesn’t so much have nice bad guys, but rather lacks any sympathetic character whatsoever. Much darker in tone than The Scarlet Letter, The Brigand tells the story of a mixed race British officer called Robert Case who is unjustly imprisoned for cowardice. Once freed by his servant he ends up in cohorts with a rebellious militant known as Eli Khan. Case attempts to help the rebels in their fight against the British, while trying to tame their apparent ‘savagery’. The film, in an attempt to deal with British racism in the military, appears to be making a mature point at the start. Unfortunately this is quickly undermined by the film’s own representation of the native Indians. Khan, for a start, played again by Reed, is represented as a thoroughly evil native, who kills his brothers, gorges on wine and meat, and enjoys watching bare-chested men battle to the death.
It’s worth noting of course the period in which the film was made, and in many ways it’s story represents a guilt over British Imperialism which was thoroughly collapsing by the 1960′s. But this guilt is quickly arrested by the persisting exoticism and ‘savagery’ of India in the film. Such a representation comes across as the same type of racism which the British Generals show towards Case. Even his tragic flaw is eventually revealed to be his mixed raced heritage – his belief that he could civilise and liberate the Indian militants is false and as a result he dies. The film tries to save itself with a last minute speech by a rather unlikable journalist character, but it’s far too late.
Overall however The Brigand of Kandahar is just as enjoyable as The Scarlet Letter, and is perhaps the better of the two films. The action scenes are much tighter and the scale of some of the battles is impressive. There are some excellently ridiculous scenes and even the questionable representation of the Indian people can possibly be enjoyed as kitsch. Both these films are undoubtedly entertaining, for either genuine or ironic reasons, but they remain very clumsy and badly written. They both flirt with ambiguity in their narratives and even insightfulness, but neither really achieves such a goal and as such shouldn’t be taken too seriously. Viewed as comic relics both films are perfect for a mindless Sunday afternoon and a good laugh.
Words > Joe Smith
Review: The Scarlet Letter & The Brigand of Kandahar ***
Hammer Film Productions are best known for their legendary horror films; from Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing in The Curse of Frankenstein, to Lee’s demonic role in Dracula, the studio has always been synonymous with British horror. But this month sees the DVD release of two films outside of Hammer’s well documented history in horror; instead showing the studio in the no less hammy territory of the swashbuckler. Released respectively in 1964 and ’65, The Scarlet Blade and The Brigand of Kandahar are both the kind of historical swashbuckling adventure you’d watch on a Sunday afternoon, each with its own open-shirted hero, creepy villain and busty dame.
The action scenes are outstandingly clumsy and the acting never drops below theatrical. It’s hardly worth pointing out the endless clichés which form the foundation for these two unabashed adventure films. Evil, wine guzzling villains vs. brave, bare-chested heroes; sword fights and fisticuffs; galloping horses, secret passages and men getting whipped in torture chambers. It’s all here. Like much of the kitsch, pseudo-romantic gibberish I used to devour as a child, these two films are just as fun to watch as they are woefully bad on closer inspection. Therefore much of any viewer’s enjoyment will be reliant upon either their penchant for nostalgic silliness or an interest in these films as cultural-historic products of a lost studio.
So, nostalgic silliness it is then. Yet, before I condemn these films to the pit of nonsense, it’s worth pointing out that they aren’t completely dictated by cliché. Surprisingly there is a level of narrative and moral ‘ambiguity’ in both these intrepid adventures, which, whether intentional or not, gives them a little more scope for discussion. Such ambiguity comes primarily from the writer and director John Gilling’s choice of historical period for both features.
The Scarlet Blade is set in the English Civil War and involves a group of royalist rebels trying in vain to save the heir to the throne. The film’s hero is the leader of this ragtag bunch of rebels and is given the historically impossible task of saving the King. Therefore the film puts its hero in the unfamiliar territory of inevitable failure. This means the usual triumphant victory is supplanted by a more down beat ending. Sure, our hero has survived and won the girl but they have also lost their war. The film leaves them in hiding, their fate uncertain, subverting the usual closed caption of more traditional adventures.
Moral ambiguity is manifested in Oliver Reed’s role as the Machiavellian Captain Sylvester. Reed’s effortlessly smooth delivery hides a barbed, bitter edge. Yet, like our unsuccessful hero, Reed’s character doesn’t quite live up to what cliché would normally dictate for such a villainous sleaze. His shifting allegiance throughout the film suggest the usual Machiavellian conniving, but the final impression of the character is one of vulnerability and confusion. More Othello than Iago perhaps. This, along with Reed’s indelible presence, means that our confused Captain ends up usurping the hero as the really interesting character in the film.
The Brigand of Kandahar is just as slippery when it comes to goodies and baddies. Set in British colonial India, the film doesn’t so much have nice bad guys, but rather lacks any sympathetic character whatsoever. Much darker in tone than The Scarlet Letter, The Brigand tells the story of a mixed race British officer called Robert Case who is unjustly imprisoned for cowardice. Once freed by his servant he ends up in cohorts with a rebellious militant known as Eli Khan. Case attempts to help the rebels in their fight against the British, while trying to tame their apparent ‘savagery’. The film, in an attempt to deal with British racism in the military, appears to be making a mature point at the start. Unfortunately this is quickly undermined by the film’s own representation of the native Indians. Khan, for a start, played again by Reed, is represented as a thoroughly evil native, who kills his brothers, gorges on wine and meat, and enjoys watching bare-chested men battle to the death.
It’s worth noting of course the period in which the film was made, and in many ways it’s story represents a guilt over British Imperialism which was thoroughly collapsing by the 1960′s. But this guilt is quickly arrested by the persisting exoticism and ‘savagery’ of India in the film. Such a representation comes across as the same type of racism which the British Generals show towards Case. Even his tragic flaw is eventually revealed to be his mixed raced heritage – his belief that he could civilise and liberate the Indian militants is false and as a result he dies. The film tries to save itself with a last minute speech by a rather unlikable journalist character, but it’s far too late.
Overall however The Brigand of Kandahar is just as enjoyable as The Scarlet Letter, and is perhaps the better of the two films. The action scenes are much tighter and the scale of some of the battles is impressive. There are some excellently ridiculous scenes and even the questionable representation of the Indian people can possibly be enjoyed as kitsch. Both these films are undoubtedly entertaining, for either genuine or ironic reasons, but they remain very clumsy and badly written. They both flirt with ambiguity in their narratives and even insightfulness, but neither really achieves such a goal and as such shouldn’t be taken too seriously. Viewed as comic relics both films are perfect for a mindless Sunday afternoon and a good laugh.
Words > Joe Smith
Tags: Hammer Studios, John Gilling, Oliver Reed, Studio Canal
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