By the late 1950s, after many years of being shunned as a serious force in the Hollywood universe, Rock Hudson proved the wags wrong, winning over critics and an ever-increasing fanbase – and becoming the Number One Box Office Star in America (no small feat, when one thinks of the competition).
Born Roy Harold Scherer, Jr., the “Rock” moniker came by way of legendary agent Henry Willson, who also coined Tab Hunter, Rory Calhoun, Dack Rambo, and, in a snarky turnabout to his critics, John Smith. Hudson’s earliest role was in the 1948 Warner Bros. war pic Fighter Squadron. Director Raoul Walsh saw something in the 6′ 4” thesp, and put him under personal contract – hoping to share the spoils with a major studio. Warners didn’t take the bait, but Universal-International, looking to build their own stable of stars, did. Hudson immediately caught on, and by 1952, had moved from featured supporting roles to heroic starring vehicles. Universal, grinding out endless (but lavish-looking) westerns, historical epics and Arabian Nights extravaganzas found the perfect male lead to carry it off. The reward for their faith came when Hudson proved he could actually act (a loan-out for Giant, to Warners, the outfit that originally turned him down, and the home-grown Douglas Sirk dramas); more relevantly, Hudson showed an instinctive flare for romantic comedy, making 1959’s Pillow Talk a mammoth worldwide hit.
Kino-Lorber Studio Classics, in conjunction with Universal Studios, has made available an entertaining trio of the star’s early action-adventure pics. These three Technicolor sagas, in new striking 1080p transfers from 35mm elements, haven’t looked this good since their original release. They dutifully underline the actor’s star power and define Saturday afternoon/summery drive-in evening Fifties movie-going at its peak.
1953’s SEMINOLE is an unfairly neglected work by the great Budd Boetticher that owes much of its narrative to actual events. It’s about the Native American uprising in Florida, ca. 1835. The movie additionally provides an excellent vehicle for rising star Hudson. He portrays Lieutenant Lance Caldwell, a Floridian, now a member of the U.S. forces stationed in the Everglades. To say he’s conflicted is an understatement. West Point-trained Caldwell owes dual allegiance to his childhood friend, mix-ish Osceola, now the feared leader of the Seminoles (nicely played with intelligence, strength and wisdom by Anthony Quinn), and, the military in which he serves (sadly, under the command of a psychotic racist autocrat, enacted with sneering vigor by Richard Carlson). Hudson’s passion for another native-born citizen, Revere, is also jeopardized, especially after she sides with Osceola. Curse them damn pesky hormones!
Be prepared for lots of action and beautiful Technicolor photography (lensed on-location at Everglades National Park by Russell Metty). Aside from the excellent cast mentioned, Boetticher gets splendid support from Hugh O’Brian, Russell Johnson, James Best, Robert Bray, Charles Horvath, Fay Roope, Walter Reed, Soledad Jimenez and, most notably, Lee Marvin, who soon would top the director’s pantheon of movie villainy in 1956’s Seven Men from Now. A standard music score by house talent Milton Rosen and a whippersnapper named Henry Mancini doesn’t deter from the excitement and love stuff. An enticing way to spend 87 minutes!
An amusing entry into the what-was-then shamelessly categorized as the tits-n-sand genre, 1953’s THE GOLDEN BLADE offers up the prerequisite swashbuckling derring-do, palace treachery, smoldering romance, and outstanding equestrian antics…all in the name of popcorn munching escapism. The deliberate sway toward a lighthearted approach (by story creator and scripter John Rich, later to make his name as an ace comedy director of such TV classics as The Dick Van Dyke Show) bears out the rumors that the project was originally pegged for rival U-I star Tony Curtis; it would have been his third pairing with female lead Piper Laurie, after The Prince who was a Thief and Son of Ali Baba. Reportedly, Laurie (to put it kindly) wanted a change from Curtis. Nevertheless this is an unusual Hudson offering, insomuch that it sprinkles supernatural whimsy into the plot (involving the magic sword of Damascus). A perfect get-your-feet-wet test for director Nathan Juran, who would go on to helm such SFX-laden fare as The 7th Voyage of Sinbad and Jack the Giant Killer.
The cast is chock full of fetching starlets, superb character actors and rising luminaries, including George Macready, Gene Evans, Kathleen Hughes, Steven Geray, Edgar Barrier, Anita Ekberg, David Sharpe, Mel Welles and Guy Williams (with narration by Richard Carlson). The expert Technicolor camerawork is by the fine craftsman Maury Gertsman, and, the music score (compiled from various pieces by house talent) contains pieces by Herman Stein, Irving Gertz, and, once again, Henry Mancini. There’s even a lip-biting hookah sequence. What more can one want?
A sort of Four Feathers vibe permeates 1954’s BENGAL BRIGADE, another mini-historical epic, played out on the backlot of Universal-International. This time, the period is Christmas, 1854 in India, the end of the British 100-year rule. The by-the-book but nevertheless fair Captain Jeffrey Claybourne allows compassion to cloud a crucial decision, and is relieved of his command.
This faux pas naturally causes a chink in his otherwise spotless armor, and Claybourne – now without both the job and the woman he loves (yep, his beauteous commanding officer’s daughter fiancee calls it quits, too) – relentlessly awaits a moment where he can redeem himself in the eyes of his country and main squeeze. This doesn’t take long, as the ex-Captain soon uncovers a devious plot (is there any other kind?) to wipe out scores of British soldiers, leading to the thrilling climax.
Rock is pretty good as a British officer, and wisely doesn’t go for the accent; he’s 100% believable, and, to his credit, no one ever questions his Americanisms. He is, in turn, boosted by a fine, supporting cast including Arlene Dahl, Urusla Theiss, Torin Thatcher, Arnold Moss, Dan O’Herlihy, Michael Ansara, Leonard Strong, Shepard Menken, and Harold Gordon.
The picture looks terrific (and bigger than it is), too, thanks in great part to Maury Gertsman’s excellent Technicolor camerawork. A standard thundering U-I score (cobbled together by music from Hans J. Salter, Herman Stein and Stanley Wilson) does what it is supposed to do without any nuisance.
The script (by Richard Alan Simmons, as adapted by veteran Seton I. Miller; from a Hall Hunter novel) also benefits from its cut-to-the-chase pacing, thanks to Laszlo Benedek’s fast action-filled direction.
For me, the shock of BENGAL BRIGADE was seeing this extraordinary print. For years, during the 1960s and early 1970s, even the Technicolor 16MM TV prints looked dull, gritty and on the dark side. This 35MM transfer is resplendent in its display of vivid hues and tones. LSS, it looks gorgeous. AND, it’s in the original widescreen aspect ratio, too (no doubt, for the first time since 1954). Time-wise. BENGAL BRIGADE was important for its lead as it commenced the beginning of the end of his swashbuckling days. Later that year, Sirk’s Magnificent Obsession would be released – careening Hudson into superstar territory. Then came the previously mentioned Pillow Talk, in 1959, and yet another facet of the actor’s persona (the excellent light comedian) that would further delight his millions of fans. Universal-International really lucked out.
THE ROCK HUDSON COLLECTION. Color. Full Frame [1.37:1]/Widescreen [BENGAL BRIGADE: 1.85:1] 1080p High Definition. 2.0 DTS-HD MA. Kino-Lorber Studio Classics/Universal Studios. CAT # K25097. SRP: $49.95.
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