An entertaining tale of Tyrone Power, cheated out of his birthright by the villainous George Sanders. Power becomes Sanders' ward, and Sanders beats and humiliates him. Power assaults him -- a grave offense, a commoner knocking a rich aristocrat around -- and barely escapes hanging by stowing aboard a sailing ship that brings him to a Polynesian island like Tahiti. There he meets the delicious Gene Tierney in a flowery two-piece sarong. Who could resist?
When he's collected enough pearls to ransom a king, he returns to England, hires a lawyer who deposes Sanders, and assumes his rightful place as lord of the manor. Sanders is now a commoner himself, though still capable of a sly trick or two in his attempt to continue in the life style to which he's become accustomed. There is a brutal fist fight. Sanders fights dirty. All villains fight dirty in these scuffles. But Power wins, gives the manor to the servants and to his kindly grandfather. Then he takes off again, trading the corruption of civilization for the simple life among the noble savages, the sheltering palms, not to mention the sheltering arms of Gene Tierney. Jean-Jacques Rousseau can be heard faintly, applauding from just off camera.
It's one of those tales we don't see much anymore, based on a sprawling, epic, now-forgotten novel. Nobody seems to have patience enough to read these long tales of adventure and romance. Maybe James Michener was the last of the breed.
Tyrone Power is a passable adventurer, Twentieth-Century Fox's answer to Warner's Errol Flynn. He's aided considerably by Alfred Newman's heroic score, Twentieth-Century Fox's answer to Warner's Eric Wolfgang Korngold. Gene Tierney had little range as an actress, even though, as here, she was forced to be a sexy and naive native girl or, elsewhere, a dumb and hungry redneck. She's out of her depth. She needs to be in sleek clothes in New York, as she was in "Laura" and "Leave Her To Heaven."
Best performance award goes to -- envelope, please -- yes, George Sanders as Sir Arthur Blake, snooty and sadistic aristocrat. He's never been a better cad. Oh, to see him sit at court, while Tyrone Power is humiliated and about to be sent to the gallows, and Sanders lolls back in his seat, looking down his nose like William F. Buckley, and rolling his eyes heavenward. The guy was great.
When he's collected enough pearls to ransom a king, he returns to England, hires a lawyer who deposes Sanders, and assumes his rightful place as lord of the manor. Sanders is now a commoner himself, though still capable of a sly trick or two in his attempt to continue in the life style to which he's become accustomed. There is a brutal fist fight. Sanders fights dirty. All villains fight dirty in these scuffles. But Power wins, gives the manor to the servants and to his kindly grandfather. Then he takes off again, trading the corruption of civilization for the simple life among the noble savages, the sheltering palms, not to mention the sheltering arms of Gene Tierney. Jean-Jacques Rousseau can be heard faintly, applauding from just off camera.
It's one of those tales we don't see much anymore, based on a sprawling, epic, now-forgotten novel. Nobody seems to have patience enough to read these long tales of adventure and romance. Maybe James Michener was the last of the breed.
Tyrone Power is a passable adventurer, Twentieth-Century Fox's answer to Warner's Errol Flynn. He's aided considerably by Alfred Newman's heroic score, Twentieth-Century Fox's answer to Warner's Eric Wolfgang Korngold. Gene Tierney had little range as an actress, even though, as here, she was forced to be a sexy and naive native girl or, elsewhere, a dumb and hungry redneck. She's out of her depth. She needs to be in sleek clothes in New York, as she was in "Laura" and "Leave Her To Heaven."
Best performance award goes to -- envelope, please -- yes, George Sanders as Sir Arthur Blake, snooty and sadistic aristocrat. He's never been a better cad. Oh, to see him sit at court, while Tyrone Power is humiliated and about to be sent to the gallows, and Sanders lolls back in his seat, looking down his nose like William F. Buckley, and rolling his eyes heavenward. The guy was great.