Though not the first filmed version of the Zorro story (there's a 1920 silent version starring Douglas Fairbanks), this is a well-done and enduring one. It's worth the price of a rental just to see the duel between Zorro and the chief villain.

The time-frame is the early 19th century, when California was a Spanish colony. Don Diego de la Vega (Tyrone Power), the son of the alcalde (mayor) of Los Angeles, has been educated in Spain in the fine arts of killing, and a military commission awaits him. Meanwhile, his reputation as The California Cockerel precedes him and all the young bucks want to cross swords with him (non-lethally) and see how good he really is. But when he receives a message from his father Don Alejandro (Montagu Love) to return to California at once, both the commission and the matches are forgotten.

Arriving in California, he finds a somber atmosphere rather than the gaiety he remembers. His inquiries as to the cause bring evasive answers. When he identifies himself as the son of the alcalde, people clam up and shun him because it's the alcalde's tyranny that has made their lives miserable. There's a lot of "ships passing each other in the night" misunderstanding; it doesn't occur to either Don Diego or the people he speaks with that they may not be talking about the same person.

Finally the mystery is solved. Don Alejandro was forced out of office by Esteban Pasquale (Basil Rathbone), the ruthless personal guard of the new alcalde, Luis Quintero (J. Edward Bromberg). Quintero is sleazy and unprincipled, but weak; Pasquale is the real power behind the throne. Diego's father and the rest of the Dons (rich, landed gentry) are upset with the new government, but they respect the rule of law and keep a low profile. The high taxes (a large portion of which are being pocketed by Quintero and Pasquale) are oppressive to the rich, but bearable. Those same taxes are a matter of life and death to the poor. But anyone who speaks up faces retribution, ranging from imprisonment to having his tongue cut out. No question in this story who the bad guys are.

As he meets with and evaluates these two vermin, a plan begins to hatch in Diego's mind. No one-not even his family-has had intimate contact with him since he began his military training; so if he takes on an alternate personality now and keeps it consistent, he should be able to convince everyone that that false persona is his real self. To Quintero and Pasquale, and later to his own father and mother, he presents himself as disinterested in or revolted by swordplay and all other "manly" pursuits. He'd rather spend time shopping with the women, discussing silks and perfume, and performing magic tricks. His father calls him "worthless", and the priest (Eugene Paulette) who first taught him the use of a sword calls him a "puppy". No one calls his fake affectations by their correct name; after all, it's 1940 and the Hays film codes are in place. But the viewer gets the idea. The purpose of this deceit is, of course, so that Diego can carry on a crusade without being a suspect.

Soon, a masked hero dressed in black, calling himself Zorro (the Fox) and carving a "Z" into any convenient surface, begins a counter-oppression campaign and publicly calls for Quintero's resignation. While Quintero cowers behind an armed guard, Pasquale does everything he can to root out this new threat to "business as usual". Things get a little complicated when Diego falls in love with Quintero's lovely niece Lolita (Linda Darnell). Another priceless scene is the one where Diego, disguised as a priest, awkwardly advises Lolita on marital questions.

Content Warnings: There's some violence, including the elaborate swordfight scene that ends in death. Also a comic-relief sequence in which the priest repeatedly says "God forgive me" while bopping Pasquale's soldiers on the head. No overt sexual material or nudity, of course. There's no profane language in English, but there are expletives such as "Madre de Dios" and "Santa Maria".

Zorro is one of a select group of "superheros" who have no supernatural powers but have honed their natural powers to perfection, and who wear a mask to strike terror into the hearts of bad guys. That group would also include Batman, The Lone Ranger and The Phantom. The Zorro character is deeply imbedded in our culture and never grows old. Besides several remakes of this film and readaptations of the underlying story, there were: five TV series; the 1998 "sequel" The Mark of Zorro starring Anthony Hopkins and Antonio Banderas; spoofs such as Zorro, the Gay Blade starring George Hamilton; and "El Kabong", the alter ego of cartoon character Quick Draw McGraw. Even the Wal-Mart Happy Face once donned a Zorro mask and used a sword to slash prices.

People are conscious of the need for a Saviour, and there's a definite Messianic aspect to many superhero stories.

The Mark of Zorro Has Plenty of Action
William Boehnel

Unlike most remakes, the Tyrone Power version of the late Douglas Fairbanks' The Mark of Zorro, at the Roxy, comes out exceedingly well in its talking dress form. Whether it posses all the acrobatics the late Mr. Fairbanks gave to this story of a California grande turned Robin Hood I cannot say since I don't remember the Fairbanks film. But the new version has plenty of action and that is apparently what the public wants judging from the squeals of delight which are bouncing off the walls of the Roxy.

As a matter of fact, this story is admirably suited to the screen since it is predicated on the first essential of good movie, which is speed. Almost from the beginning Don Diego Vega's exploits on behalf of the downtrodden in Los Angeles practically burst with action. So much so that you are never given a chance to realize that the script is a bit dawdling and that is occasionally cracks under the strain. Fortunately, too, a minimum of emphasis is placed upon the romance.

Maybe Mr. Power doesn't bring as much sparkle and dash to the role of Diego as Mr. Fairbanks did but it seems to me a first rate performance of its kind. Linda Darnell is just what the heroine should be in a film like this "lovely, trusting and in the background. Basil Rathbone is just right as the cruel Pasquale and the others are as good as their opportunities will permit.

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".........The old Technicolor process is opulent in this film, one where the brilliant colors match the extravagant costumes and beautiful scenery. Director Mamoulian, who did some shooting for the film in Mexico City, saw the production as a lavish, tragic mural. "Instead of just photographing the story," he was quoted a saying, "I tried to 'paint' it." This is evident in the sets, decorations, and costumes which reflect the brilliant work of Goya, Murillo, Velasquez, and El Greco. Darnell was cast opposite Power as a continuing film lover, having played with him in THE MARK OF ZORRO. The part of the wealthy seductress, however, was another matter. Many actresses were tested for the part, including Maria Montez, the exotic Mexican beauty. According to Mamoulian, she walked into his office and immediately lifted her skirts high display a lot of leg, then gave him a sexy wink. Her screen test later proved unsatisfactory. Mamoulian and Zanuck all along wanted rising star Carole Landis to play the infamous femme fatale but when she learned that she would have to die her hair red, Landis absolutely refused. She had been building herself up as a blond bombshell and she had no intention of having a dye job that would ruin the image. Hayworth, who had been playing supporting parts up to his time tested and the part, especially for her dancing ability; there were a number of short seductive flamenco dances she had to perform in the move.

Ironically, BLOOD AND SAND catapulted Hayworth to superstar status and she was next given the lead in MY GAL SAL, a role which Landis thought she had been guaranteed. Landis would up playing a supporting part in this movie and her career never did take off much beyond starlet status. The tragic actress would commit suicide, taking an overdose of sleeping pills in 1948, after reportedly breaking up with Rex Harrison, who was then married to Lilli Palmer.

Blood and Sand was a tour de force for the handsome Power, who looked for all the world to be the expert matador he was playing; bullfighting techniques were developed for the star by Budd Boetticher, an expert on the subject who later went on to direct MAGNIFICENT MATADOR and THE BULLFIGHTER AND THE LADY. His capework was impressive but Power, who wanted to actually do his own bullfighting, was never allowed near a bull, doubles standing in for him for the close work; the studio bosses were terrified that their top star would be injured. Power's star rose even higher with the triumph of this colorful, exciting production and he was never to forget his role. In later years he would enter a favorite San Francisco saloon where the head of a bull adorned a wall over the bar. Power would always stop before the stuffed menace, salute the horns, and shout jocularly: "Hola, bull! We meet again!"

NEW YORK SUNDAY NEWS
John T. McManus
Blood and Sand Drama in Technicolor; Penny Serenade With Irene Dunne
Eileen Crewman
May 23, 1941

Two good pictures opened yesterday--two pictures that could hardly have been more different from each other and yet each be well worth any audience's time. The Roxy is showing a drama of bullfighters, Blood and Sand, photographed in magnificent technicolor. The Music Hall presents a poignant comedy-drama about two very human people and the child the adopt, Penny Serenade.

Blood and Sand is the tale of Spain and of a very special side of the Spanish character. It s a tale told with bitterness and a grudging admiration of courage. Is background is a whirl of color, its story a romantic one and its characters clear-cut.

Vicente Blasco Ibanez, who wrote the novel, seems to have eyed bullfighting and its audience with fury and contempt, bullfighters and their families with pity and respect. It is a vivid world of which Ibanez tells. Here are Spaniards one can believe, children with courtly manners and suddenly fierce action, peasants and aristocrats and men who risk their lives in fighting the great black bulls each Sunday afternoon.

The bullfighting, in spite of its pageantry, looks like the stupidest as well as the most brutal of all spectacles. But Rouben Mamoulian has directed these sequences shrewdly, avoiding any sight of injury to the bulls, using symbolism freely. Men are killed as men must be when they face danger almost daily. These men knew their fate. Really the had always known it. Juan's father had beeen killed in the bullring. Juan, in spite of his boasting grew cold, with "rust in his throat," before each bullfight. Yet he knew, as did his mother, that he could never leave bullfighting. That was his life.

Blood and Sand tell of Juan and his wife and his mother and the woman who destroys him. There is constant movement in the film, the development of characters as well as the melodrama of the ring.

Mr. Mamoulian and the associate producer, Robert T. Kane, have assembled a most excellent cast. Tyrone Power, always a handsome juvenile who has done nicely in some light character roles, here proves himself a sound actor. He plays Juan, a fiery youth who grows up to be a swaggering bullfighter. He plays with conviction and with a real understanding of his character. He also thanks probably to the make-up department, looks astonishingly like a good-looking Spanish peasant.

Mr. Power is surrounded by good actors. Here is La Nazimova as the mother who can never forget her own husband's terrible death. Here are Laird Cregar as a particularly offensive critic, and Rita Hayworth as a heartless. Laughing heiress, and Linda Darnell as the gentle, frightened wife, and John Cairradine as the radical who always intended to leave bullfighting for politics.

Technicolor has a way of dimming the emotional value of scenes. Often it does so in Blood and Sand, but in itself the color is extraordinary. There is rich beauty in scene after scene, many of them striking enough to make the whole film worth while. Whenever its drama slows up, Blood and Sand relies upon visual beauty and an unusual musical score.

Blood and Sand Shown at Roxy
Tyrone Power Plays Valentino Role in Color
William Boehnel

The New Technicolor version of Blood and Sand, at the Roxy, with Tyrone Power in the role made famous by Rudolph Valentino tells the story of a red hot Spanish momma who steals a bullfighter away from his pretty little wife.

In other words, although you had a right to expect much from Blood and Sand, you get very little. Pictorially, it is often superlative, but its tempestuous melodrama, hot off the griddle, is phony, and at times laughable.

This is due chiefly to the fact that the story fails to stimulate the emotions and because the director Rouben Mamoulian, has been more concerned with striking compositions instead of concentrating on the lives of the people as they are affected by bullfighting and not as bullfighting is affected by these same people.

In case you don't know that story, it is all about a country boy who grows up to be a famous matador, marries his childhood sweetheart, strays from the straight and narrow path when a Madrid siren gets a toe-hold on him and finally dies from wounds amid the crowd's cheers fro his rival.

Tyrone Power gives a careful and well conceived, but entirely uninspired performance as the toreador and the supporting players range from good to bad.

Best of them are Anthony Quinn, John Carradine, J. Caroll Naish and Laird Cregar. Less successful in their efforts are Nazimova, Linda Darnell and Rita Hayworth, who play the hero's mother, wife and inamorata, respectively.

Blood and Sand [date/source unknown]

Having once attempted, with a fair degree of success, turning Tyrone Power into another Douglas Fairbanks, in The Mark of Zorro, the 20th Century Fox studios are now attempting, with what might eventually become even greater success, to turn Tyrone Power into another Rudolph Valentino. Blood and Sand, which came to the Roxy Theater yesterday, still remains one of Valentino's biggest pictures; the memory of the affairs of the bull fighter, his wife and the luscious vamp sitting up there in the box still ranks with such things as The Four Horsemen,, The Sheik and The Son of the Sheik ,among the great lover's masterpieces.

The new version of the Ibanez novel is a rich and glowing picture, all dressed up in Technicolor, filled with splendid costumes and stunning tableaux, and boasting in addition to Mr. Power, Linda Darnell as the wife, and Rita Hayworth as the girl sitting up there in the box. In its biggest scenes, it its spectacular effects, in its emphasis on color and excitement and vitality, Blood and Sand has a good many stirring moments. Certainly nothing has come along, within recent weeks to match that entrance of the bull fighters into the ring, certainly few tapestries have been woven by the screen to equal that scene in the dressing room, Mr. Power sitting enthroned on a dais, while the aficionados look on him with wonder and admiration.

Wham!

Nor, when you come right down to it have there been many films within recent weeks that have the pace and passion of a Mr. Power and Miss Hayworth do in their scenes together. There is considerable reminiscence about what a luscious woman Nita Naldi was in the original version of the picture. I'll stake Miss Hayworth's form and figure against Mme. Naldis any day, and I rather imagine that the vogue of streamlining that has come into effect since 1922 lends more than its share to the present result. In short, friends, that Rita Haworth in something to look upon, and when Mr. Power looks upon her, there are fireworks and conflagrations and all manner of bursting stars. In a word, wham!

Having disposed of these credits in this new version of Blood and Sand, we can now get down to other matters. The story of the bull fighter and his illicit passion, for instance, is what the boys call right off the cob, the acting of Mr. Power himself as a bull fighter is more than a little reminiscent of a Princeton senior in the annual university Triangle show, and the support given in so far as acting ability goes by Miss Darnell, and, for that matter, Miss Hayworth too, is little more than the old stock routine Miss Darnell being very sweet and simple and lovely, and Miss Hayworth just turning on her wham.

Eye the Target

But these are minor points in the general effect, and it's the general effect, the impact on the eye, rather than on the intellect, that Blood and Sand tries to manage. For instance, there is that first view of Mr. Power himself, his dark and tousled head lying against a rich crimson drape, there are the bullfighting costumes in which he appears in the ring, more than enough to make all the ladies in the audience swoon with desire, and there is, once again, Miss Hayworth and her wham, more than enough to make the men in the audience do precisely the same thing. Then too, there are the bull ring sequences, there is some magnificent acting by Laird Cregar as a bull fight newspaper critic, there is John Carradine, as a friend of Mr. Power's, forecasting the changes that were so shortly to take place in Spain, and there is Alla Nazimova as Mr. Power's mother, urging him to get out of bull fighting before it is too late. These things too, must be counted among the credits in the film.

In fact, these are the very things that make Blood and Sand the rich and dynamic film it is. In their light, I shouldn't wonder that this new version will more than match the success of the old Valentino production, and offhand, I can't think of anything the 20th Century Fox studios would rather have.

Roxy's BLOOD AND SAND IN TECHNICOLOR SPLENDOR
Irene Thirer

Imagine how effective can be the sight of red blood, dripping upon white sand. Technicolor supports symbolism magnificently, and Darryl Zanuck's 20th Century-Fox unit, headed by director Rouben Mamoulian has kept the fine faith with Ibanez in the retelling of this tempestuous romance of Spain and the bullring which makes stimulating, invigorating and exceedingly eye-filling Roxy screen fare.

As to casting, one is apt to think back to Valentino, Nita Naldi and Lila Lee in the 1923 silent, black and white version, and compare them with Tyrone Power, Rita Hayworth and Linda Darnell of the current picture. Comparisons, of course, are ridiculous. No mater how fond a memory one may have of the earlier vehicle, the Mamoulian opus must be, and certainly is, a 99% improvement over its predecessor because this is a production in which performances do not count nearly as much as backgrounds, exciting locale, riot of glorious color in costume and set decoration thrilling arena sequences perfected by the wonders of modern photograph the true reason which Blood and Sand is to be reckoned as an improvement and impressive 1941 production a box office hit.

No more timely production has hit release channels in several years than this picturization of a topic getting current headline attention and close public interest. Combo of title, subject, Tyrone Power's marquee voltage and general presentation assures A Yank in the R.A.F. hefty grosses and key holdovers.

Picture neatly mixes the adventures of cocky and carefree Power, former airline pilot, with the inner workings and flights of the RAF squadrons during the hectic time of the German blitz against the Low countries and France a year ago. Producer Zanuck (who also authored the original as 'Melvile Crossman') sidestepped overloading the picture with flying sequences and bombing expeditions; and, in keeping the air shots to a minimum, avoided repetition of familiar material in previous films which would have slowed the zippy pace considerably.

Air formations, RAF flying fields and maneuvers during bombing excursions, were photographed in England and are currently informative the American audiences. The evacuation of Dunkirk, with RAF fighter planes appearing to protect the action, and swarming through the skies like bees, is decidedly suspenseful in its brief presentation.

In flying a training ship to Canada, power enlists as pilot to ferry bombers to England. On his first trip, he meets former sweetheart, Betty Grable, a Texas girl performing in a nightclub and member of the ambulance reserve. Power pursues his former attention, and enlists in the RAF for fighter duty. He's bored with the necessary instruction course, and disappointed in his first leaflet-dropping flight over Berlin. After extensive footage to unfold the romantic affairs of the pair, with wing commander John Sutton edging in to make it a triangle, story zooms into the air again for bombing raids, a pancake landing in Holland amidst the invading Germans, escape and the finally excitement of the Dunkirk evacuation.

Power clicks solidly as the happy go-lucky American pilot sure of his abilities with both planes and women. He handles the role with a lightly nonchalant attitude which will catch wide audience attention. Miss Grable grooves excellently as the girl who fully realizes Power's inconsistencies, but finally breaks down. Sutton commands attention for his sterling portrayal of the third member of the triangle, while Reginald Gardiner provides a wealth of spontaneous comedy which neatly dovetails into the overall. Lesser supporting roles are competently cast.

Henry King, aided by a crackerjack script by Darrell Ware and Karl Tunberg, and exceptionally fine editing by Barbara McLean, directs to keep up a consistently fast pace for maximum audience interest. Two songs by Leo Robin and Ralph Rainge, Hi-Ya Love' and 'Another Little Dream Won't Do Us Any Harm' are tuneful numbers that aim for pop attention. Miss Grable ably delivers the pair in nightclub sequences. Photography by Leon Shamroy is uniformly excellent.

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Never have Darryl F. Zanuck and Twentieth Century-Fox owed so much to so few as they do or the pulsing excitement contained in their new film, A Yank in the R.A.F. For most of the thrilling action, most of the tingling suspense, paced through this lively adventure-romance, which came to the Roxy yesterday, is creditable to the lads of the Royal Air Force, who made it possible. If it weren't for the fact that those boys saved England when-and as-they did; if they hadn't anticipated fiction with one of the most dramatic climaxes on record, and if some one hadn't permitted Fox to photograph their planes in action for some vivid background shots, there would never have been a A Yank in the R.A.F. And we would all have missed a thoroughly enjoyable show.

Don't go to the Roxy expecting to hear any fine and fancy speeches about fighting to save democracy and the freedom of generations yet unborn. Those have been wisely avoided. Instead, Mr. Zanuck and his cohorts have given out with a simple and natural tale about a cocky young American fliers who ferries a bomber to England for the cash, meets an old girl friend who is dancing in a floor show of a London night club, joins up with the Royal Air Force just to be near her and then participates in that "flap" over Dunkerque when the R.A.F. fledged its wings. It is a lusty and youthful yarn about a fellow who fights to love in a robust, healthy way-a motive which we suspect any R.A.F. lad would applaud. It makes better sense, anyhow, than some of the reasons sometimes heard in films.

And Tyrone Power and Betty Grable play the lovers with becoming gusto. Mr. Power is a clean-cut youngster who looks and behaves as you think an American would under the circumstances and for a similar reason. Miss Grable is plenty of reason, too, and acts as though she knows what she's about. Both are as good as they've ever been in this. John Sutton likewise plays an English suitor with nice restraint, Reginald Gardiner is highly amusing as a perpetually frustrated swain and a cast of lesser characters play R.A.F. soldiers honestly.

One might reasonably complain that there is a little too much romance and not enough scrapping in the film. But no one can say that the scrapping, when it comes isn't lively engough. And the real thing shots throughout the picture of big dark bombers and shark-bellied Spitfires roaring off over clam English country for their fateful "objectives tonight" are the sort that send the shivers down your spine. There is good entertainment in this picture. Thumbs up for A Yank in the R.A.F.

TYRONE POWER AS A 'YANK IN THE R.A.F.'SCORES A HIT AT THE ROXY THEATER
Leo Mishkin

The boys down in Washington out to be vastly interested in the new picture at the Roxy. Not only does it deal with the war, but it also has an American flying in the British Royal Air Force. Propaganda, that's what it is. It actually says there is a war going on, and that there are Americans involved, and that there was horror and hell and heroism at Dunkirk, and that the British Royal Air Force is a mighty fine thing to have around, in the face of the Nazi hordes. Why, there's even propaganda in the title, A Yank in the R.A.F., and certainly the boys down in Washington ought to start investigating it at once. It's a picture that bears directly on what's going on in the world, and as the boys down in Washington know full well, that's an awfully dangerous thing for a picture do.

The title, as a matter of fact, tells you pretty nearly everything about the film that there is to know. It's no secret, by now, that Tyrone Power plays the title role, that Mr. Power is an ex-mail flyer I the States, that he goes to England as a ferry pilot, and that in England he meets up with Betty Grable, whom he knew back home in Texas and tat charmed by the presence of Miss Grable in the United Kingdom, he decides to stick around a while and learn how to fly Spitfires and Wellingtons and Bristol-Blenheims. And that the big climax of the film is the evacuation of Dunkirk, which has been staged thrillingly and magnificently by the director, Henry King, bringing home all the terror of that awful day with tremendous impact.

Power in Modern Role

NEW YORK HERALD TRIBUNE (?)
[date unknown]
By Elinor Hughes

"Son of Fury" the new screen romance which opened yesterday at the Metropolitan?a world premiere, by the way?is a lusty, gusty and exciting affair with enough action, fist fights and plot for half a dozen pictures. It provides Tyrone Power with far and away the most satisfactory part he's had since "Lloyd's of London," and should increase his box-office value enormously inasmuch as he has a chance to let the pretty-boy foolishness go by the boards for once and prove that he can give and take punches with the best of them. Not having read Edison Marshall's novel, "Benjamin Blake," I cannot say how closely "Son of Fury" follows its model, but I do know that Philip Dunne's screen play and John Cromwell's direction have caught to remarkable degree a sense of the surface elegance and underlying brutality of life in early 19th century England, when it was death for a servant to strike his master, and when fortunes were to be had by peaceful and honorable means in the as yet unspoiled South Sea islands. the scenes in England are particularly well handled, but even the unusually embarrassing passages involving the hero with a dusky flower-decked maiden are handled with intelligence and restraint, and the whole affair adds up to topnotch entertainment of the swashbuckling school.

The screen play covers about 15 years in the life of young Benjamin Blake from the time that he was taken from the care of his grandfather, Amos Kidder but his sadistic uncle, Sir Arthur Blake, who made him a stable boy and consistently maltreated him in the effort to break his spirit. Benjamin, you see, was the son of Sir Arthur?s elder brother and heir to the family estates, but no satisfactory proof was available that showed that Benjamin was born in wedlock.

No reader of romance should need to be told how Sir Arthur's worst efforts were unsuccessful; the Benjamin grew up filled with one purpose and only one, to obtain his birthright and outs his uncle, that he lived his beautiful, cold-hearted cousin, that he ran away from home, made a fortune in pearls in the south seas and came back for the most thorough going and satisfactory public vindication. If you think he married his cousin, however, you're wrong: remember the tropical island and the dusky maiden. [...] Equally extremely effective; by Dudley Digges, who gives a shrewd and entertaining pictures of a foxy old lawyer, and by Elsa Lanchester, whose brief portrait of a waterfront barmaid is something to cherish Frances Farmer has never looked handsomer than as the scheming Isabel, and Gene Tierney, in the relatively minor role of Benjamin's true love, is naive and pleasing. Roddy McDowell gives another fine performance as the young Ben, and Harry Davenport, John Carradine, Kay Johnson, Halliwell Hobbes and Robert Greig are all admirable in smaller roles.

The second picture on the program is "Right to the Heart," with Brenda Joyce, Joseph Allen, Jr. and Cobina Wright, Jr.

VARIETY
January 7, 1942; Char.
Produced on a lavish scale, this is a romantic adventure-drama of boxoffice merit based on the Edison Marshall novel., 'Benjamin Blake,' which enjoyed a good though not outstanding sale. Backed by a cast headed by Tyrone Power and Gene Tierney, it will do good business or better, in some engagements possibly big.

Running time is a little long, 98 minutes, with some sequences slowing the action down, but generally the story commands rapt attention and, on the whole, emerges as sound, compelling entertainment. The footage backgrounded on an obscure south Sea island for the purpose of establishing Miss Tierney as an important factor in the story is long probably for that reason though it needn't have been.

Laid in England during the reign of King George III, the story is that of Benjamin Blake who undergoes great hardships and reverses in an attempt, ultimately successful, to establish the birthright that had been snatched from him nefariously by a scheming uncle of the upper crust. However, on retaining title to the fortune that was rightfully his, he parcels it out to servants of the estate and others in order to return to the tropic isle where he made himself independently rich from oyster pearls and, in the process met Miss Tierney, exotic native belle. The picture ends on his return there and by now Miss Tierney is speaking fine English. Power had played teacher during his several years on the island fishing for pearls and his native girl friend apparently learned awfully fast.

Miss Tierney otherwise is a good fit for the role of the duskey maiden with those South Sea eyes and costumes, while Power is impressive in every respect, including the swell fist fight he has with George Sanders, his cruel and scheming uncle. The scrap is among the best ever screened.

Stress is laid on brutality in the manner in which Power is treated as a boy and as a young man to point up the pathetic side of his earlier life. Roddy McDowell plays the character of Benjamin Blake as a boy.

Scenes aboard a sailing ship from which Power and John Carradine escape in order to search for the fabled pearl beds of an island Carradine had learned about, are photographed excellently. The same fine grade of camera work figures in the tropical island sequence and in scenes located in England.

Carradine, as a lowly sailor who falls under the spell of the island he has found and chooses to remain there, gives his usual fine character portrayal and possibly it is a negligible oversight that he's wearing the same striped sweater-shirt that he had when he arrived there years before.

There is virtually no comic relief. It cold have been used here and there to fine advantage because of the general heaviness of the action.

Playing the daughter of Sanders who again turns in an excellent job, Frances Farmer suites her role well and gives it as such warmth as could be permitted. Elsa Lanchester tops in a short sequence and others providing good support are Harry davenport and Dudley Digges.

William Perlberg has invested the picture with much production values and John Cromwell's direction is its decided asset.

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January 30, 1942; By Bosley Crowther

Twentieth Century-Fox and Darryl F. Zanuck have always had a soft spot in their corporate hear (but not in their head) for robust romantic screen fiction dressed in historical clothes. Lloyds of London, for instance, was one of their more beloved films and so was Clive of India-both of them about adversity-bucking boys. So it was not in the least surprising that this usually successful combine should have grabbed onto Edison Marshall's swash-bucking novel, "Benjamin Blake," and turned it into a picture under the daredevlish title of Son of Fury. Indeed, so loyal were the affections of Twentieth Century-Fox and Mr. Zanuck that they even got Tyrone Power, who played one Jonathan Blake in Lloyd's of London, to play the role of Ben (likewise Blake) in this film. And the finished job is now thumping and sprawling on the screen of the Roxy.

To say that it is an excessively fanciful film would be a mild statement. This time Mr. Zanuck hasn't even rung in any famous characters to give it that awesome pretense of historical elbow-rubbing. He and Director John Cromwell and Writer Philip Dunne have simply taken a story set in eighteenth-century time-a story of family feuding and bold adventuring-and milked it for as much blood-and-thunder and romance as they could get out of it. You may rest assured that they have got a bucket-full.

For this is the boisterous fable of a spirited lad by the name of Ben, the supposedly base-born son of an English gentleman and a wayward maid, who suffers brutal poke at the brute, and on a South Pacific island finds a dream girl and a hat full of pearls. The first is a pleasant diversion, but the second are riches untold. So Ben hauls them back to England, employs a court-fixer, has his name cleared of suspicion, takes over his rightful estates, kicks his greedy uncle (and the latter's daughter) out of the house and then-romantic fellow!-returns to that South Pacific belle.

Packed into that fantastic framework are at least three bare-fisted fights between Mr. Power and George Sanders, who sneers a beautiful uncle; several lesser maulings in which Mr. Power is the one most frequently mauled, and some very bashless romancing between Mr. Power an Gene Tierney, the South Seas lure. Mss Tierney, whose talent for acting is open to serious doubt, benefits considerably in this picture by the fact that she doesn't have much to say; all she has to do is look voluptuous in some Hawaiian-print bathing suits-the fashionable thing, apparently in eighteenth-century times.

A competent group of actors appear in lesser roles-Roddy McDowall, Dudley Digges, Frances Framer, John Carradine, etc. And the production is polished and rich. But the sets as well as the actors take a beating in Son of Fury. For the fact is it's another juvenile charmer with a great deal more brawn than brain.

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THE FAMILY CIRCLE
February 27, 1942
Taken from Edison Marshall's novel "Benjamin Blake," this is a picture almost sure toe please wherever it is shown. It has a little bit of everything, including a South Sea idyll and the flavor of "The Count of Monte Cristo." Potpourri though it may be, you can stake a few shillings that almost every customer will find something in it to his liking.

The casting is excellent. Young Mr. Power is well suited to his role in every respect, and the presence in any picture of George Sanders is something to make this department do nip-ups. The minor parts are excellently cast, with Dudley Digges and Elsa Lanchester contributing memorable performances.

While you may find it hard to believe that Tyrone Power can lick George Sanders in a rough-tumble fight, the fisticuffs themselves are well staged and it's an exciting event. Frances Farmer's change of character at the picture's close seems a mit too sudden. But those are but minor faults in a well made, entertaining film.

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An Excellent Cast Puts Over 'Son of Fury'
Studio Workshops Reshape 'Benjamin Blake' for Screen
The Chicago Sun January, 1942
Wolfe Kaufman

Son of Fury is a filmization of Edison Marshall's novel, "Benjamin Blake," which some of you may have red. The studio says it is a very faithful adaptation from the novel, and all I can do is take their word for it, especially since the studio goes on to admit that the finish has been completely altered. So what I shall limit my comments to is a discussion of the film's merits as a film and the snap judgment on that is: it is very long, it is very exciting, it is very colorful and it is a little bit of a bore.

This is one of those historical novels that movie studios seem to love and it is built with skillful workmanship to fit the genial shoulders of Tyrone Power and Gene Tierney. If you are one of those people who enjoys lavish setting and stylish costumes, by all means see it.

There is an almost constant parade of eye-filling background and decoration. Frou-frou some of us call it, but it might as well be admitted, here and now that it is all very elegant.

The story was altered at the very finish only, says the studio, and that is an anecdote worth repeating in the novel, the character played by Gene Tierney commits suicide. In Hollywood the moguls went into secret session and decided that this must not be. Gene Tierney is to pretty to commit suicide, or words to that effect. So a very lavish ultra-ultra wedding was written into the script for her and Power as a finale.

This Sort of Thing Can't Be

At this point, the Hays Office steps in. Nothing doing. A nice white man like Power cannot marry a nice native girl like Tierney. Not in the movies. So the lavish wedding had to be scrapped, and the two are left merely yearning for each other and living unhappily ever after.

That's Hollywood.

Well, to get on with a review of the film itself. The story is a rather good basic yarn of escape. Way back in the 18th century George Sanders kicks Tyrone Power around, to the point where the kid runs away and lands in a South Sea Island. Here he fishes for pearls lives like a native, falls in love with a native girl, then goes back home to London to even scores with Sir Arthur (Sanders).

What helps a great deal is that the cast is way above average. Power is believable and likeable. Sanders is as good as he always is. Frances Farmer is better than usual as the other girl, the girl back home. Scenes are exceptionally well handled throughout with Roddy MacDowell, John Carradine, Dudley Digges and Elsa Lanchester best.

Miss Tierney Shapes Up Well

The Tierney gal is very good, too. She looks like a native girl with ease. She speaks English much too well for a native girl, but maybe that doesn't matter. Sort of funny, too. As you recall, Gene was a society girl before she broke into pictures and she is now married to a count. But the countess has never been a lady on the screen. She was a gun moll in The Return of Frank James,, a hillbilly in Tobacco Road, an outlaw in Belle Starr, an Arab girl in Sundown, a half cast in Shanghai Gesture and now she is a Polynesian in Son of Fury.

Which leads to another amusing anecdote about this film. There are about 100 Polynesian characters in the film. But the studio could manage to round up only on native Tahitian who could sing and dance. So the rest of them were made up of Hindus, Mexicans, and Indians. And made up is the word.

Oh, well, that, as mentioned, elsewhere is Hollywood. And the movie still has a lot of color and action. Cut down to about 15 minutes it would have been even better.

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PM REVIEWS
SON OF FURY IS A PRE-WAR BABY
John T. McManus

If you want to see how badly Hollywood was frightened last fall by the Ney Senatorial witch hunt into alleged war-mongering by the movies, drop around to the Roxy. There is evidence right now that 20th Century-Fox, at least, was scared clear back into the 18th century.

The evidence is a move called Son of Fury, made under fire, you might say, since Sen. Nye and his isolationist colleagues kept their guns trained on Hollywood right up to Pearl Harbor. So Son of Fury takes refuge in the remote problems of a noble young pretender (Tyrone Power of George III's era, and the scurrilous efforts of his scoundrely uncle (George Sanders, of course) to deprive him of his rightful baronetey. Something abut the young lad having been born on the wrong the estates side of the blanket, that sort of thing.

Now there's nothing wrong with that sort of thing when it's god, but Son of Fury is pretty bad, bad and long. It's so long in fact, that it has two heroines, Frances Farmer, in jabot and redingote, for the first part, and Gene Tierney, in bare midriff, for the finale.

It seems eons before our here gets around to Gene, but he finally does, while seeking defense funds for himself in the South Sea Islands. They meet, they love, they fetch for pearls together in dazzling batik swim suits in a blue Pacific harbor. When Ty collects enough pearls he wind-jams back to England, unseats the villainous Lord Eyewash and hands him a beautiful pasting, distribute the estates among the help, and speeds back south to Miss Tierney and the batik suit.

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This Above All

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Release Date: May 13, 1942
Academy Award Winner 1942: Richard Day, Joseph Wright, Best Black & White Art Direction
Thomas Little, Best Interior Black & White Decoration

NEW YORK HERALD TRIBUNE (?)

date unknown
'This Above All' Is Gripping and Timely

"THIS ABOVE ALL," at the Astor. A fine and sympathetic production based on the Eric Knight best-seller. A 20th Century-Fox production; directed by Anatole Litvak.

The average movie has an audience circulation at least 100 times more than the best-selling novel and perhaps 1,000 times more than the longest-run play.

So the critic who judges cinematizations by their resemblance or lack thereof to the book or stage original often does a grave injustice not only to the film but to 99 percent of the filmgoers who care nothing about what the playwright or novelist meant in the first place.

[...]

[TIMELY STORY]
But some of my literary friends tell me that Eric Knight's tremendous novel, "This Above All," has been devitalized by the Hays office. They tell me that after the operation any resemblance that "This Above All" bears to the Knight book is purely coincidental. That's what they tell me. But I don't read, so I don't have disappointments. All I know is what I see, and what I saw at the Astor is an absorbing and timely film which, if not great, certainly at one point approaches greatness.

That is when Joan Fontaine, who has always been my idea of what an actress should be, tells Tyrone Power, who hasn't always been my idea of what an actor should be, why must he fight for England.

Though I don't know whether this part of the script was penned by Knight or by the adapters, whoever wrote the words did one of the finest jobs of selling Britain since a gent named Shakespeare go off a few lines about "this England."

SET IN ENGLAND
The story of the film, "This Above All," is set in England at and immediately following Dunkirk, when al the world was shaking?except, of course, the older hidebound British aristocracy.

Miss Fontaine, of its newer generation, enlists as a private in the Women's Airforce volunteer Service, and one night in a blackout she gets romantically inclined with a guy whose face she can't see.

It turns out to be love at first unsight and they go away for a weekend together. It develops that the guy is a deserter from the army because he can't figure out why he should fight for landed gentry and stuffy tradition and all that sort of blasted rot, old thing.

Now, as I remarked before, I enjoyed every minute of the 120 in the over-long film, even some of the bumpy sequences where Anatole Litvak's direction was not all that Anatole Litvak's direction is supposed to be.

But I felt that this was one of the finer things of the season--and never mind the book or what was cut out of it.

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May 12, 1942; By Bosley Crowther
Out of Eric Knight's singularly skillful war novel, This Above All, Twentieth Century-Fox and Darryl F. Zanuck have derived a taut and poignant war film, which arrived at the Astor last evening for a meticulously restrained world premiere. The principal weakness of the picture is that it accentuates the original's chief fault-that is, it skimps a rationalization of the leading character's profound change of mind. And it also neglects to establish the convictions to which he so stubbornly holds. But its strength and disarming distinction is that it tells a very moving love story with a sensitive regard for tensile passions against a background of England at war.

This Above All , as a novel was a remarkably inclusive tale, which vividly revealed the aberrant feelings of a variety of English people in the Summer of 1940. It keenly and sharply contrasted their social impulses, and it left a distinct impression of a nation fighting not only for survival but change. Naturally, the picture could not encompass the whole book, and a great many characters an details have been easily overlooked, R. C. Sherriff, who wrote the screen play, has concentrated predominantly on two characters-on Clive, the cynical soldier, and Prue, the well-bred W.A.A.F. Girl. And he has written a straight war romance with only mildly social overtones.

Casually, as in the novel, Prue and Clive are introduced. More virtuously than in the novel, their acquaintance ripens into romance. More by fate than by free choice, they go off together to a seaside resort, and there Prue miserably discovers the canker which is eating sat Clive's mind-his bitter disgust at British democracy, his contempt for the privileged classes, his disillusion after the Battle of Flanders (through which he gallantly fought) and his implacable resolve to desert the army and let the British go on fighting without him. As in the novel, Prue tries to dissuade him; his old buddy, Monty, puts in his two cents. But it is not until Clive has done a fugitive turn of the English countryside that he realizes the error in his thinking and goes back to win the ironic victory of his own soul.

Readers of the book will be happy to know that Twentieth Century-Fox has not violated the originals' ending. A doubt-but only a slight one-is permitted to remain as to Clives' destiny. And that is some compensation for other necessary compromises which are made-the implication of Clives' and Prue's virtue as manifest by their occupancy of separate rooms, he omission of Prue's pride in approaching maternity and the performance of a marriage ceremony before the end. There is a prudence about this romance which is not in keeping with nature, and which belies the rank dispositions of the two participants.

More to be criticized, however, is the failure of Mr. Sherriff and all concerned to justify Clive's animosities by explaining his poverty-stricken background (this could have been done briefly but graphically) and to clarify his emotional switch. One believes Clive when he says that he doesn't think with his heart. It is hard, then, to understand why he should accept the advice to trust his feelings, not his reason. Once can only assume that the producers of the film did not wish to reveal the degradation out of which the character rose, for fear of giving offense, and further felt that love was a sufficient excuse for anything.

And, with Joan Fontaine playing a lady, it is hard to deny that theory. Miss Fontaine is surpassingly lovely and tender and believable as Prue. She thoroughly combines gently breeding with generosity of soul, and her speech on the meaning of England is one of the high points of the film. Tyrone Power can be rated no more than "adequate" in the particularly demanding role of Clive. He doesn't look or act like a hard-bitten Britisher; anything else he does is incidental. Thomas Mitchell is hoarse and beetling in the disappointingly brief role of Monty, and several other good actors do well in minor parts.

This Above All is not quite what it might very well have been. But the tension and pathos of love reaching hopefully for some fulfillment amid deep woe is expressively captured in it. It is tremendously appealing-much better than a smack in the lug, as Monty would say.

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VARIETY
May 13, 1942; Hobe.

From Eric M. Knight's This Above All , the first best-selling novel to come out of the Second World War, 20th Century-Fox has made an enormously successful picture. It has everything-an enthralling romantic story with inescapable topical connotations, a distinguished cast, superb performances, skillful direction and a handsome production. It should evoke enthusiastic reviews and potent word of mouth, and it is a cinch for extended runs and powerful grosses.

As a huge reading public already knows, This Above All is a tale of England in that tense interval between Dunkirk and the London blitz of September, 1940. It tells of the romance between a beauteous daughter of the aristocracy and a lowly-born soldier who has deserted after fighting honorably through the shattering battle of Flanders and the tragic evacuation of Dunkirk.

But to an America still arousing itself to the full fury of war, it is also the inflaming story of how a disillusioned man's unquenchable love of country finally restores his faith, bring him back to duty and to his own self-respect. That's mettlesome subject matter at any time, but just now it has irresistible compulsion.

Although R. C. Sherriff's screen adaptation softens certain aspects of the novel, such a toning down the love affair during the couple's stay at the Dover inn, or eliminating the complication of the soldier's brain injury, it has not weakened the story. In some ways the yarn is even improved. For one thing, the whole involved subject of the democratic aims in the war, problem of the conflict of social classes, or the question of pacifism against duty to one's country are expertly focused in personal terms. Similarly, the expansive canvas of an England breathlessly preparing for the expected invasion is kept as a background to the vibrant personal story. Indeed, that story itself is related with such taut cogency that interest rarely slackens.

There are many effective, affecting scenes in the picture. A provocative one opens the story, as the liberal-minded girl tells off her circle of Cliveden-set relatives for their stupidly reactionary attitude toward the war. Several of the love scenes between the man and the girl are deeply touching, but her speech about the England she loves has especially throat-catching poignance.

With so many worthwhile elements so smoothly blended in the film, it is difficult single tout individual contribution. Yet Anatole Litvak's direction is unmistakably expressive. Tyrone Power gives admirable vigor and conviction to the role of the cynical, but inarticulate soldier. Joan Fontaine gives a glowing tender and enormously beguiling portrayal of the tremulous, courageous loving and loveable heroine.

Thomas Mitchell, Henry Stephenson, Nigel Bruce, Gladys Cooper, Philip Merivale, Sara Allgood, Alexander Knox are all convincing in varying important supporting roles while such competent actors as Melville Cooper, Queenie Leonard, Jill Esmond, Arthur Shields and Dennis Hoey register in bit parts. Alfred Newman's score is eloquent.

Picture's title is a quotation form the familiar speech of Polonius in Hamlet-"This above all: To thine own self be true."

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The Black Swan

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Release Date: October 16, 1942
Academy Award Winner 1942: Leon Shamroy, Best Color Cinematography

VARIETY
Oct. 21, 1942; Scho.

Rafael Sabatini's story of sea piracy is an apropos, action-full aurevoir to pictures for Tyrone Power now in naval uniform. Its also fitting that Power's last film for 20th Fox for the duration should include so much of a box office wallop.

This one can't miss making the wickets whirl. That business of Power slugging Maureen O'Hara after she repulses his forced attentions, or Power crawling into bed with her, or some of the dialog anent Powers propensity to take women when, where, and how he wants 'em, is hardly for the kiddies.

This is a lusty story of English buccaneers who plunder women and the Spanish Main with equal facility. On one point though, the purity Code is adhered to-some of the pirates reform, while the others meet their just deserts at swords end or the gallows. Thus chief pirate Laird Cregar, playing Henry Morgan, winds up as the hones governor of Jamaica; his chief aide, Power, likewise turns pure, even winning the love of Miss O'Hara, whom he previously tries to compromise; Thomas Mitchell also winds up a reformed pirate, while such brutes as George Sanders, whose bearded makeup makes him look like a ferocious, red-headed butcher, and Anthony Quinn, as a one-eyed scourge of the sea, become dead pirates.

Film is enhanced by the color photography, which makes the marine shots especially attractive and lends punch to the gory battle scenes. Inasmuch as it's a costume picture, the Technicolor is all the more appealing.

There are several sea and personal battles, plus some fast sabre dueling. Power is in action in most of them, flashing a muscled torso that's photogenic for the femme patrons. As a pitch for the males, Miss O'Hara is laced in low-cut dresses that more than once threaten to spring a major celluliod surprise. The color, incidentally, greatly adds to her physical appearance.

Both Power and Miss O'Hara turn in god acting performances, although it's left mystifying at the finish why she suddenly switches her affections to Power.

Thomas Mitchell is living up to his rep as a scene-stealer. Always a good actor, he has the faculty, by some motion or mugging to focus attention upon himself. Cregar and Sanders are of similar type, especially in bizarre makeup, but Mitchell outshines them in the scenery-chewing department. Other good performances are turned in by Edward Ashley, as Miss O'Hara's chicken-hearted fiancée and double-crosser of the Jamaica colony; George Zucco playing Miss O'Hara's stuffed- shirted father, whom Cregar supersedes as governor of Jamaica, and Anthony Quinn, who, with Sanders, defies Cregar's orders that the pirates must stop their pillaging and work honestly towards the buildup of the British empire. Others in the film are not importantly cast.

Some of the film's action stuff is of the cliff-hanger variety, but director Henry King kept the fantasy pretty well in hand so that it doesn't become to ludicrous. He paces the story well with the Ben Hecht-Seton I. Miller dialog bright and peppery. Leon Shamroy's camera job was A-1.

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December 24, 1942; By Bosley Crowther

After seeing The Black Swan, which hove to at the Roxy last night, a good many small boys are going to feel they were born too late into this world. Fr guided y Rafael Sabatini's reckless pirate yarn, Darryl Zanuck has hauled a likely lot of studio swashbucklers all over the Spanish Main and with enough Technicolored sword-play and double-barreled oaths to make a 12-year-old's eyes pop. Directed in headlong style by Henry King, filled with rococo rhetoric by Ben Hecht and Seton I. Miller, and acted in the ripest tradition, The Black Swan is one of the waning season's prettiest adventures. Sir Henry Morgan, Jamie Boy and Tommy Blue-they were men, sirrah!

Swaggering up and down the Caribbean under full sail, wearing enormous sashes, cutlasses like razors and mustachios of assorted styles, the villains have a gay time of it. Today, they pounce upon a gold-laden galleon, scuttle it and leave precious few survivors; tomorrow they swoop into Tortuga; next day, Maracaibo lies ready for plunder. The boys sweep through the streets, breaking heads merrily as they go, stealing the likeliest maidens, brawling over rich brocades. Now and then, on finds himself upon the rack in the governor's dungeon, but not for long-his friends arrive invariably and on cue.

Amid these rip-roaring events there is the story of Sir Henry Morgan's temporary return to grace as governor of Jamaica and his attempt to sweep an unrepentant former henchman, Billy Leech, from the seas. For this mission, Jamie Boy, who looks for all the world like Tyrone Power, is selected, but only after Jamie makes a midnight abduction of a certain aristocratic lady-in this case, Maureen O'Hara-to make this voyage more bearable. How Jamie brings the red-bearded Leech to bay and simultaneously wins the acquiescence of his kidnapped lady is all told in that final handsome battle as ships rake each other with broadsides and Mr. Power's men rage across the decks.

It is performed by actors as if the hokum born. Mr. Power is a very vision of manly loveliness, and he growls just like a big bad pirate; Laird Cregar, as Morgan bellows oaths like an irate opera singer; George Sander's Billy Leech is as naughty and quarrelsome a man as one would care not to meet on a moonless night; Thomas Mitchell's Irish accent still stands him in good stead as one of the roisterers, and Maureen O'Hara is brunette and beautiful-which is all the part requires. The Black Swan is in the golden tradition of boyish adventures. The small fry probably will be brandishing wooden swords in the parlors and slitting sofa pillows for some time to come. But a lot of grown-ups are going to like it too.

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PICTUREGOER (U.K.)
June 12, 1943; *** (out of 4 stars)

While one feels that Douglas Fairbanks, Senior or junior would have made a better job of this swashbuckling, piratical tale than Tyrone Power, it must be admitted that it does present colourful high adventure in the Spanish Main.

It deals in rather loose continuity, with the famous Henry Morgan who from buccaneer became Governor of Jamaica and with the help of his lieutenant, Jamie Warring, clears up the pirates.

The picture is in colour, which adds a lot to its spectacular sea fights and general atmosphere.

Tyrone is quite good as Jamie who wins the hand of the daughter of the autocratic, deposed Governor of the island and Maureen O'Hara is attractive as the heroine. Laird Cregar is excellent as Henry Morgan, and the acting of Thomas Mitchell as Jamie's mate and George Sanders as a cold-blooded pirate is first rate.

There is plenty of comedy, action, and full-blooded romance.

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Crash Dive

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Release Date: April 23, 1943
Academy Award Winner 1943: Ernest Palmer, Ray Rennahan, Best Special Effects, Fred Sersen, (Photographic), Roger Heman (Sound)

NEW YORK HERALD TRIBUNE
April 29, 1943
By Otis L. Guernsey, Jr.

Tyrone Power is making his last civilian screen appearance in the now current "Crash Dive" at the Roxy, and, paradoxically, he appears as a Naval two striper who specializes in action both above and below the surface in patrol torpedo boats and submarines. His latest vehicle is a combination love and adventure story filmed in brilliant Technicolor and set in the hotly-contested North Atlantic battlefield. This modernized swashbuckling is generally effective, and it is to be hoped, in passing, that Mr. power's career as an officer in the Marine Corps will be as brilliant as that portrayed in his new screen offering.

The leading role in "Crash Dive" is old hat to the young Hollywood luminary, who has appeared on the screen many times as an unflinching hero of sea warfare. The manipulation of heavy torpedoes is not as romantic as the twisting of a bright rapier, but the havoc wrought against the Nazis makes up for it in satisfaction the films melodramatic punch is packed in two submarine action scenes, both of which result in blowing the enemy sky-high.

The lion's share of this film's merits belongs to director Archie Mayo, to Technicolor director Leion Shamroy and toe Fred Sersen, who arranged for the special effects. the final, climactic scene in which one of our submarines attacks an enemy base, is tops in the field of film melodrama--without it "Crash Dive" might be classed as rather a mild adventure tale. Simultaneous action on land and sea is presented without confusion, and the photography creates just the right mood. The Technicolor becomes almost black and white when the scenes are shot in semi-darkness, and against it are contrasted the sudden red and yellow flashes of tremendous explosions. there is only one faulty touch--a light shinning out of the sub's conning tower as the men begin a night raid on the German base--to mar one of Hollywood's most effective action scenes.

Anne Baxter, an attractive young starlet, does as well as possible with a rather conventional love triangle involving herself, Mr. Power and Dana Andrews, who is very much at home is in the part of the laconic but capable captain of the submarine. The actors and the director have done as much as they could with a trite love story. It takes up too much screen footage thought it is a mere by-product of the plot's main line and is thrown in only out of force of Hollywood habit. Luckily there are action scenes which pick the film up at the moments when the romance begins to drag.

There are several good supporting characterizations to round out the proceedings. James Gleason gives his usually fine performance as a hard-bitten petty officer Ben Carter does a good job as the submarine's Negro cook, and Dame May Whitty contributes comedy in a bit part.

There is nothing startling about the original script of "Crash Dive," but the actors, the director and the camera crew have added a goodly amount of tense melodrama and magnificent color photography. It would be worth while to drop in on Mr. Power's final cinema effort of the duration, if only for its final scene.

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April 29, 1943; By Bosley Crowther

More of that Hollywood warfare which looks like nothing at all but the unbridled fancies of scriptwriters worked out through special effects is the climax of Twentieth Century-Fox's film about love and submarines which came yesterday to the Roxy under the sensational title of Crash Dive. And more of that old familiar business about two officers being in love with the same girl is the lengthy and tedious preface which leads up to this noisy jamboree.

What's the use of talking? Crash Diveis one of those films which have no more sense of reality about this war than a popular song. In it a young "pigboat" officer-none other than smiling Tyrone Power-pursues a rather haughty young lady for what seems an interminable time, only to find out eventually that she is the fiancee of his commanding officer. In the meantime he and his commander have got acquainted at considerable pains because Tyrone persists in maintaining that PT boats are superior to submarines. But with this greater barrier between them-well, you can imagine the strain when their sub goes to raid a secret land base of the northern coast!

And that raid-well, to call it fantastic would be understating the case, for sub crew, with Mr. Power foremost, play commandos with a wild and vicious zeal. They blow up oil tanks, ammunition, set fire to barracks and ships and escape through a sea of flaming fuel oil, with the captain steering from the submerged bridge. Such incredible heroics have seldom been seen on the screen. It is Hollywood at its wildest. And in Technicolor, too! Oh, boy!

And that's what you'll see in Crash Dive, Mr. Power is his usual snappy self, and Dana Andrews plays the submarine commander with commendable second lead charm. Anne Baxter is the little lady over whom there is so much to-do, and James Gleason and Ben Carter are the only distinguishable members of the sub's non-officer crew. There are one or two sequences of interest, showing tension within the sub and a slight indication of shore life at the New London submarine bas. But mainly the picture is romance and thriller of the most fictitious sort. It leaves one wondering blankly whether Hollywood knows that we