Disney Plus-Or-Minus: Kidnapped

Original theatrical release poster for Walt Disney's Kidnapped

Walt Disney’s Treasure Island launched the studio’s live-action division with a bang back in 1950. The movie raked in a small fortune, both domestically and overseas. So it was only a matter of time before Walt decided to return to his library’s Robert Louis Stevenson shelves to see what else might be worth adapting.

Stevenson was a popular and prolific writer of novels, short stories, poetry, essays and nonfiction. But as far as Hollywood is concerned, his entire life’s work can pretty much be boiled down to Treasure Island, Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde and Kidnapped. Of those, Kidnapped is the most “obscure”. There have only been about a dozen different movie and TV versions of the novel over the years, compared to the countless official and unofficial adaptations of Treasure Island and Dr. Jekyll.

Director Robert Stevenson (no relation to the author, although the Disney publicity department certainly wished he had been) was in production on Darby O’Gill And The Little People when Walt suggested Kidnapped as a follow-up. Stevenson thought that was a fine idea and wrote the screenplay himself. Stevenson had started his film career as a scriptwriter in England, gradually directing more and more and writing less and less. He hadn’t received a screenwriting credit since Jane Eyre in 1943. This would be the first and only time he’d be credited as a writer for Disney, despite his long and profitable association with the studio.

Stevenson had been obliged to shoot Darby O’Gill in California but Kidnapped would be filmed on location in Scotland, with studio work done in London at Pinewood Studios. The entire cast and crew hailed from the United Kingdom, with one notable exception. All-American contract player James MacArthur, star of The Light In The Forest and Third Man On The Mountain, starred as David Balfour, rightful heir to the dilapidated House of Shaws. MacArthur had definitely improved as an actor since his Disney debut but attempting a Scottish accent was punching above his weight.

David’s parents have recently died and, armed with a letter of introduction, he makes his way to his ancestral home and Uncle Ebenezer (John Laurie, who had appeared as Blind Pew in Treasure Island). When the eccentric and miserly Ebenezer discovers that the House of Shaws rightfully belongs to David, he tries to arrange a little accident for him. When that doesn’t work, he pays off an old sailing associate, Captain Hoseason, to shanghai the young man and sell him into indentured servitude. The great character actor Bernard Lee makes his one and only Disney appearance as Hoseason. He would soon begin a lengthy association with Darby O’Gill’s Sean Connery as M to Connery’s 007.

Hoseason’s ship has barely made it out to sea when it collides with a boat in the fog. The sole survivor of the accident turns out to be Alan Breck Stewart, the real-life Jacobite rebel played here by Peter Finch. Finch’s performance as the Sheriff of Nottingham in Disney’s The Story Of Robin Hood And His Merrie Men had given his career a nice little boost. Kidnapped would be Finch’s only other Disney project before moving on to such acclaimed films as Sunday Bloody Sunday and Network.

After David discovers that Hoseason is planning to rob and murder Stewart, the two men fight their way off the ship and are separated as they make their way back to shore. David makes his way to the town of Appin where he encounters Colin Campbell (Andrew Cruickshank), known far and wide as the Red Fox, an emissary sent to deal with the Jacobites. While the Red Fox is interrogating David, he’s shot dead by a hidden assassin. Pursued by Redcoats, David runs into Alan, who denies that he’s the killer.

Once again, the Appin Murder is an historical incident that is presumably fleshed out a lot more in R.L. Stevenson’s book. In R. Stevenson’s 97-minute movie, this entire middle section is more than a little tedious and confusing. There’s a lot of talk about politics, loyalty and taxation which will likely make your eyes glaze over unless you’re extremely well-versed in 18th century British history.

The highlight of this section is the first screen appearance of Peter O’Toole. Peter Finch had worked with O’Toole at the Old Vic and recommended him to Stevenson. O’Toole plays Robin MacGregor, son of Rob Roy MacGregor whose own struggles against the Redcoats had been indifferently dramatized in Rob Roy, The Highland Rogue. The second O’Toole enters the scene, you forget that poor James MacArthur is even there. You can’t take your eyes off him and he has an electricity with Finch that MacArthur can’t hope to replicate. Even the fact that the scene culminates in a bagpipe duel, a spectacle that’s even more ridiculous than it sounds, can’t dim O’Toole’s undeniable star quality.

O’Toole and Finch would remain good friends until Finch’s untimely death in 1977. There’s a great story that the two Peters were out drinking late one night in Ireland. When the landlord refused to serve them another drink, they bought the pub. The check bounced but hey, it’s the drunken impulse that counts. Unfortunately, Peter O’Toole will not be back in this column, unless I’ve decided to include Pixar movies by the time we get to Ratatouille. Just a couple years after Kidnapped, O’Toole would hang up his bagpipes for good as Lawrence Of Arabia catapulted him to a whole new level of stardom.

Eventually, David and Alan make their way back to the House of Shaws where they confront Ebenezer and get him to confess to his misdeeds within earshot of a lawyer. David gets his inheritance, Alan heads off presumably to further adventures and all’s well that ends well. Or something. At least it ends.

For its first twenty or so minutes, Kidnapped holds some promise. The Scottish countryside is lovely, the old ruins of the House of Shaws are creepy, John Laurie is an engagingly sinister presence and James MacArthur…well…he fulfills the terms and obligations of his contract. But the actual kidnapping part of Kidnapped is over much too quickly. Scotland is not a huge country, so it feels like David is really only on board that ship for less than a day before he and Alan escape. It seems about as perilous as missing your stop on a bus.

The rest of the film gets bogged down in endless dialogue scenes. Robert Stevenson the director gave too much control over to Robert Stevenson the screenwriter. You can tell that he wanted to remain as faithful to the book as possible but he does so by concentrating on incident and plot over character and emotion. And since the story is circular, ending up right back at the House of Shaws, everything in the middle feels a bit pointless.

Finch delivers an entertaining performance but Alan’s story remains vague and confusing for anyone not familiar with the novel or history. The emotional crux of the story should hinge on the developing bond between Alan and David but that never materializes. By the time they part ways, they still seem like relative strangers to each other.

Contemporary critics and audiences agreed that Kidnapped was no Treasure Island. Robert Stevenson recovered quickly, however. He’d continue to work for Disney into the 1970s, directing some of the most profitable and beloved movies in the studio’s history. He’ll be back in this column again. So will Robert Louis Stevenson for that matter, although not for a very long time.      

VERDICT: Disney Minus

Like this post? Help support the Electric Theatre on Ko-fi!

Disney Plus-Or-Minus: The Story Of Robin Hood And His Merrie Men

Original theatrical poster for Walt Disney's The Story Of Robin Hood And His Merrie Men

Walt Disney is one of the most quintessentially American figures of the twentieth century. His name is synonymous with a nostalgic, homespun vision of small-town American life. He’s held up as the embodiment of the classic American Dream, building an empire out of nothing but talent, hard work and determination. So it must have been somewhat galling for Walt to have to make his first several live-action features in the United Kingdom about quintessentially British subjects.

With millions of dollars still frozen thanks to England’s post-World War II recovery program, Walt had little option but to establish an overseas production presence. Perce Pearce, who had transitioned from animation to live-action, had been dispatched to oversee the production of Treasure Island. Pearce had not gotten along with director Byron Haskin, with Walt having to act as mediator during the movie’s contentious post-production. But Walt stood by his longtime employee, sending Pearce back to England in 1950 to produce three more features.

Walt had apparently decided that if he was going to have to make pictures in England anyway, he’d might just as well make them as English as he possibly could. For his follow-up to Treasure Island, Walt settled on one of the most famous tales in English folklore. The Story Of Robin Hood And His Merrie Men (complete with quaint spelling for extra Englishness) was Disney’s first crack at the oft-filmed legend. It would not be their last.

At first, Pearce tried to reunite the team from Treasure Island. Script duties once again fell to Lawrence Edward Watkin, Disney’s go-to writer on the live-action British projects. Robert Newton was a contender to play Friar Tuck. They even tried to find a role for Bobby Driscoll, although considering his young age, he would have been more of a Merrie Boy than a Merrie Man.

Byron Haskin jumped the Disney ship after Treasure Island wrapped, so Pearce hired English director Ken Annakin. Annakin had been a documentarian during the war who had transitioned to features. He was known in England for the comedy Holiday Camp and its three sequels revolving around the working-class Huggett family. Annakin evidently got along with Pearce better than Haskin had, as he’d stick around to direct three more live-action Disney features.

As Robin Hood, Disney cast Richard Todd. Todd had become a major star in England after his Oscar-nominated performance in the 1949 war drama The Hasty Heart. He makes for a fine, if not exactly inspiring, Robin Hood. He’s earnest and idealistic but he’s not going to erase all memories of Errol Flynn. Nevertheless, we’ll be seeing more of Richard Todd in this column.

As is often the case, the bad guys make for more compelling figures than the good guys. Songwriter and radio personality Hubert Gregg is suitably weaselly as the treacherous Prince John. He’d reprise the role a few years later on a couple episodes of the popular British TV series The Adventures Of Robin Hood.

Peter Finch is even better as the Sheriff of Nottingham. Finch had started his acting career in Australia before returning to England with Laurence Olivier’s Old Vic theatre company. His star began to rise in England after his performance as the Sheriff. He’d go on to international success with films like Sunday Bloody Sunday and, of course, his legendary turn in Network, for which he won a posthumous Oscar. We’ll see him again, too.

Robin’s Merrie Men are filled out by an assortment of character actors who would have been readily familiar to contemporary British audiences. James Robertson Justice is a burly and boisterous Little John. James Hayter, who also had the lead role in the 1952 adaptation of The Pickwick Papers, is a capable replacement for Robert Newton as Friar Tuck. Hayter would go on to play the role again years later in Hammer Films’ A Challenge For Robin Hood.

While none of the actors are miscast, The Story Of Robin Hood And His Merrie Men could use a star of Newton’s caliber to really elevate the material. Newton’s flamboyant performance as Long John Silver in Treasure Island defines that movie, for better or worse. No one in Robin Hood stands out, which makes this suffer in comparison. Not only to Treasure Island but also to Errol Flynn’s definitive The Adventures Of Robin Hood, which was packed full of outsize personalities.

Dell Four-Color Comics adaptation of Walt Disney's Robin Hood

Flynn’s movie casts a long shadow over Disney’s interpretation, as it has over every other Robin Hood movie since 1938. There are echoes in Robin’s first meeting with Little John, in the introduction of Friar Tuck, and in the archery contest with the golden arrow prize.

But Disney’s version does manage to make some interesting tweaks to the familiar story. Here, it isn’t Robin who splits his opponent’s arrow. Rather, it’s Robin’s father, Hugh Fitztooth (Reginald Tate), who splits Robin’s arrow, with both father and son declared winners of the competition. When Fitztooth is later killed by the Sheriff’s men, Robin takes up the life of an outlaw to avenge his death.

The introduction of Robin’s father puts a new focus on Robin’s motivations and history that the Flynn movie is largely unconcerned with. Robin and Marian (Joan Rice) also have an existing relationship that predates his life as an outlaw. That makes her more of a natural ally and active participant, rather than someone who must be won over to Robin’s cause.

Disney’s version is also unique as one of the few versions of the story that was actually shot in Sherwood Forest. Cinematographer Guy Green, who won an Oscar for his work on David Lean’s Great Expectations, does an excellent job capturing the natural beauty of the locations. Matte wizard Peter Ellenshaw, fresh off his work on Treasure Island, enhances Green’s work with a handful of subtle but stunning matte paintings.

The Story Of Robin Hood And His Merrie Men became another success for Walt Disney, especially in the UK. Its reputation has faded over time, overshadowed by countless other Robin Hood films and the continued influence of Errol Flynn’s classic. Disney itself has contributed to the glut of other Robin Hoods that are more fondly remembered than this one. In 1973, they dressed a cartoon fox in people clothes for an animated version. But we’ll get to that later.

This first attempt certainly isn’t a bad little movie but it does feel somewhat inconsequential. Treasure Island had scope, grandeur, and Robert Newton’s larger-than-life performance. It felt like a movie. The Story Of Robin Hood feels more like a pilot for an unrealized television series. It’s entertaining enough while you’re watching it. But don’t be surprised if you’ve forgotten most of the details the next day.

VERDICT: It’s enough fun to be considered a Disney Plus but a very, very minor one.

Like this post? Help support the Electric Theatre on Ko-fi!