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Back to the Feature: The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)


The mistaken identity and associated twin dilemma is one of the classic conventions of storytelling, but it takes an especially strong premise and an equally adept execution to make a variation stand out. Not every story can be Twelfth Night, or The Prince and the Pauper, or …The Parent Trap. But after seeing this movie, I wonder if The Prisoner of Zenda should be considered alongside them.
Now clearly it hasn’t had quite the lasting power as those other examples –there aren’t a lot of people who really remember The Prisoner of Zenda –either the 1894 book by Anthony Hope or one of the film adaptations (namely the ones from 1937, 1952, or 1979). In looking at the 1937 film produced by David O. Selznick and directed by John Cromwell (and an uncredited George Cukor and Woody Van Dyke), I can see why the story’s not too well-known to modern audiences; it’s not as specific as other mistaken identity stories and repurposes plot elements from other older stories. However, I was surprised at just how entertained I was by the film, which I expected to be a relatively average 1930s romance -but then perhaps I should have expected more from a movie that informed The Great Race.
Rudolf Rassendyll (Ronald Colman), an English gentleman on a fishing holiday in the fictional Balkan nation of Ruritania bears a striking resemblance to the country’s next king Rudolf V (also Colman). When the reckless prince becomes incapacitated, Rassendyll is roped into impersonating him for the coronation to prevent Rudolf’s envious brother Michael (Raymond Massey) from seizing the throne. While Rassendyll attempts to pass off the charade and begins falling for Rudolf’s betrothed Flavia (Madeleine Carroll), the real Rudolf is kidnapped by Michael’s accomplice Rupert of Hentzau (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.), and a rescue mission must be undertaken to save the kingdom.
This is obviously a partly comical story and the film doesn’t take it all that seriously. In fact it applies a tone not unlike an Errol Flynn swashbuckler movie with a bit of satire mixed in. That satire was the design of Selznick himself to comment on the abdication of Edward VIII and ascension of his brother George VI, and given how topical it still was in 1937, the parallels made up an essential part of the films’ marketing. However it isn’t mean-spirited in this allusion as, though Rassendyll makes for probably a more competent king, Rudolf is still ultimately returned to the throne and learns from his experience. Despite it’s commentary, there isn’t much a shred of cynicism to The Prisoner of Zenda which rather exudes such a playful spirit that it quickly becomes quite endearing. It’s comedy is notably well done, with a ton of great wit that puts me in mind of The Princess Bride, particularly from Rupert, and there’s even a little bit of slapstick in the scene where Rassendyll fools around with the waltz conductor -forced to stop the music whenever the king and Flavia stop dancing, that’s nicely amusing. And it shows that the movie, like Rassendyll, despite his stuffy disposition, is not above having fun.
An undeniable strength of this movie in fact is the characters and their relationships, each of which is refreshingly interesting for a studio-produced romance. Rassendyll is no fish out of water, being a proper posh though well-mannered Englishman able to adapt to his new role with relative ease and not a lot of confusion. Similarly, Flavia has some deserved agency to her, never having much liked Rudolf only to find herself warming up to the man she thinks is him. Both are slight deviations from the more popular and reliable tropes, yet work wonderfully. However, though the writing of these parts and the source certainly seem decently engaging on their own, it’s the casting that makes the crucial difference.
The film is carried by its performances. Madeleine Carroll is superb in her elegance, mindfulness, and sense of honour that it’s no trouble she can’t put together her husband is literally a different man. Raymond Massey is terrific as usual, getting some subtle comedy out of the inexplicable presence of the king he knows he has kidnapped. But he also conveys a level of sympathy, with a backstory you can understand behind his claim to the throne, while also making for a good imposing and unscrupulous villain. And what a sneer he’s got! His mistress Antoinette is played by an impressionable Mary Astor, and in one of his early supporting roles, David Niven is a pretty likeable sidekick to the tough Colonel Zapt, played by cricketer-turned-actor C. Aubrey Smith.
Specifically though, it’s Ronald Colman and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. who unequivocally make this movie! Despite having seen (as of yet) relatively little of his work, Colman is one of my favourite actors, his turn in A Tale of Two Cities being, as far as I’m concerned, one of the greatest movie performances. The melancholy and misery of Sidney Carton isn’t apparent in this second performance of his in which he impersonates another man, but Colman elevates an otherwise innocuous and stereotypical role with his natural dashing charisma. Rassendyll never comes off overly pretentious or stale, but rather polite, respectful, and good-humoured: the perfect embodiment of the late Victorian English gentleman, without the rigorous orthodoxy or entitlement. And Colman can shift between the dramatic, romantic, and comedic sides of the character with expertise. He gets a good deal of mileage out of the drunken, irresponsible, and slightly obnoxious Rudolf as well, in spite of his short screen-time. The goatee-sporting mirror character allows Colman a chance to play against type, and it’s clear he relishes it.
Complimenting Colman’s suave British visitor is Fairbanks as the impossibly charming, cunning, and wry Rupert. The Prisoner of Zenda was something of a light Hollywood comeback for Fairbanks in fact, after he’d spent three years making movies in Britain following a pay dispute with Warner Bros. Initially he wanted the lead, but when it was given to Colman his father convinced him to accept the role of Rupert of Hentzau instead, whom he cited as one of the great literary villains. And it’s a good thing the younger actor heeded his fathers’ advice because Fairbanks’ Rupert has to be one of the most debonair movie villains of the entire classic Hollywood era! The character is smooth and smart and gloriously manipulative, and Fairbanks plays him with the utmost smarminess. It’s the little pieces of physicality too, the way he raises an eyebrow or grins while smoking a cigarette –there’s an air of coolness about him at all times. This magnetic personality shines through every scene, which combined with some great writing from John L. Balderston, makes for an incredibly fun character who feels strikingly ahead of his time.
The best scenes of the movie are usually when these two share the screen; namely a conversation of wits near the end of the second act, and a climactic sword fight that seems to come out of nowhere but who cares. That fight is very well done, not matching of course, but spiritedly predicting the iconic sword fight of The Adventures of Robin Hood a year later. The two spar both verbally and physically like the legends they are, and it’s immensely satisfying to see Colman outsmart Fairbanks or Fairbanks shrewdly escape Colman.
Which begs the question why they never followed up with a sequel. Yeah, Hollywood of the 1930s wasn’t franchise-obsessed but they did produce some film series (King Kong and The Thin Man comes to mind). And this movie ended without everything wrapped up neatly. Rupert had escaped and Flavia was in a marriage now with someone she didn’t really love; not to mention, Anthony Hope had actually written a novel, promisingly titled Rupert of Hentzau, and I would have loved to have seen this cast come back for that. Salzberg did at one point intend to make the sequel (funny enough with The Third Man’s Joseph Cotton and Alida Valli in a film where presumably they WOULD’VE ended up together), but it never came to pass. And perhaps without Colman and Fairbanks it shouldn’t have, key as they are to this unassumingly fun and adventurous gem that is The Prisoner of Zenda.

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