Monday, June 26, 2017

Treasure Island

Ahoy! Today we’ll be following a long-lost map, seeking cinematic gold in Disney’s first full live-action film from 1950, Treasure Island.


Based on Robert Louis Stevenson's famous 1883 “story for boys,” the film stars a young Bobby Driscoll (formerly of Disney's Song of the South and So Dear To My Heart) as Jim Hawkins, who works with his (off-screen) mother at the seaside Admiral Benbow Inn. The early scenes of Disney’s adaptation show just how substantially screenwriter Lawrence Edward Watkin edited Stevenson's original text, in order to parse the somewhat lengthy adventure yarn to a tidy 96 minutes. Jim’s mother and all other patrons of the Inn are therefore dispensed with, and the Admiral Benbow is left to appear like some deserted cliff-side tavern run by a 13-year old. As the film opens, a scallywag by the name of Black Dog (insert Led Zeppelin joke here) stops by, inquiring about a tavern guest and living rum cask named Billy Bones (played with slurring squalor by Finlay Currie.) Though Black Dog is shown the door, Bones’ secret is out, and soon another pirate named Blind Pew shows up to deliver to him “the Black Spot,” a pirate’s death warrant. This causes old Billy to suffer a drunken stroke and die - but not before entrusting his hidden map, charting the resting place of infamous pirate Captain Flint’s treasure stash, to young Jim. This sets about a chain of events that leads Jim, along with trusted friend Dr. Livesey (Denis O’Dea,) to seek out a ship to take them to the mysterious island.

Give ol' Billy Bones this message from Black Dog, lad:
Hey hey mama, said the way ye move, gonna make ye sweat, gonna make ye groove. Arr!

Even in the original novel, it always struck me as odd that the pirates have such a complicated hierarchy: Black Dog tips off Blind Pew, who gives Billy Bones “the Black Spot,” so that a band of pirates raids the Inn later that night, all of which is presumably set in motion by Long John Silver (SPOILERS! How I’ve missed ye!) in order to procure his map. All this time, Silver has been hiding out in Bristol, successfully running a portside tavern in hopes of one day gleaning information about Bones’ whereabouts. Actually, now that I’ve worked it out, it’s not too complicated. It’s still an incredible coincidence, however, that the bumbling Squire Trelawney (played with Big British Bluster by Walter Fitzgerald,) entrusted to hire a ship's cook for the coming voyage, should choose Long John - who happens to be the secret leader of the pirates. Perhaps this was all planned out in advance somehow; could Long John Silver be the original “My God - he planned this whole thing all along!” villain so popular in 21st century action films?

Avast, me hearties! Twelve paces past the fryer, thar be the stash o' hushpuppies! Yarr!

Speaking of Long John, no discussion of this film (or pirates in popular culture) would be complete without singing the praises of hard-living English actor Robert Newton. A popular actor amongst England’s youth at the time, Long John Silver became Newton’s signature role. His portrayal of the treacherous mutineer - with one eye squinted, and a loudly exaggerated “west country” accent - became the standard stereotypical impression everyone on Earth does when mimicking a pirate. Much like Stevenson’s description of the character (missing a leg and with a squawking Parrot on his shoulder) became the de-facto image of a pirate, Newton’s portrayal of the suavely bloodthirsty sea-dog completed the picture, cementing the perception of piracy in the performing arts that would go unmatched for the next 53 years. So immense was the actor’s contribution to pop culture that he was named the “patron saint” of International Talk Like a Pirate Day (by, you know, the two Oregonians that created the thing.)


The Hispaniola crew welcomes the arrival of their rum rations

Driscoll, who was the same age as his character, turns in a surprisingly effective performance as well. Still possessing a fair measure of the ‘50s “gee whiz” style typical of child actors of the time, his Jim Hawkins seems to mature naturally as the film progresses, the hardships faced in his adventures making a man out of the boy. Especially effective are his scenes shared with Newton - the relationship between Long John and Hawkins being pivotal to any good adaptation of this story. The mixture of pain and anger that crosses the young actor’s face following his newfound mentor’s betrayal humanizes the swashbuckling story; this makes viewers care about the fates of the crew more than all the sword-fighting and musket-firing does. Driscoll also gets in a few moments of badassery, as he dispatches a pirate pursuing him up the ship’s crows nest with a musket ball to the forehead. Damn!

My siestas are getting chorter and chorter...

As a matter of fact, when the film was re-released in 1975, the originally unrated film had to be cut down by 9 minutes in order to secure a family-friendly G rating, so (relatively) violent were some of the buccaneer's exploits.

Yoosa follow Ben Gunn now, okeeday?

If most movies must have their lone character who gets right on one’s nerves (I will not invoke the name of a certain hapless Gungan here,) for me it’s crazed castaway Ben Gunn, played here with wild-eyed gusto by Geoffrey Wilkinson. With his hyperactive, bony frame supporting a long scraggly beard, Gunn leaps about referring to himself in the third person and laughing in a hysterically high-pitched voice. It’s not necessarily that Mr. Wilkinson’s performance is bad, it’s simply that the character, in the original text and all the following adaptations, is pretty grating.

Now, Jamie, when I say run, run...

Watching Disney’s Treasure Island, for me, can be a great joy tinged with a bit of sadness. The movie itself is as predictably enjoyable as one could hope, with Technicolor swashbuckling set amidst tropical isles always being a cinematic treat (especially when one considers said islands were somehow created along the coasts of Devon and Cornwall.) The lively cast (including a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it appearance by future Second Doctor Who Patrick Troughton as one of the mutinous pirates) is a joy to watch, cemented by a strong pair of leads in Newton and Driscoll. What brings it down for me is the unfortunate fates of the actors behind this memorable duo. Newton fast became beloved for his role as Long John Silver, and would go on to revive the character in an unofficial (and non-Disney produced) sequel in 1954, titled after his character. While filming this production in Australia, Newton was declared bankrupt by UK courts, with debts in excess of £47,000. Two years later, Newton would die following a heart attack in Beverly Hills, aged 50, his passing hastened by chronic alcoholism.

Driscoll, meanwhile, briefly continued to be one of the most prolific child actors in Hollywood, appearing in the Sam Spiegel-produced When I Grow Up and a number of television shows (as well as memorably voicing and modeling for Disney’s Peter Pan.) Following his parents decision to withdraw him from Hollywood Professional School, Driscoll found scorn and ridicule from his fellow public school attendees, and soon turned to drugs for escape. His acting career and academic performance taking a turn for the worst, Driscoll would go through a series of bad decisions (including a hasty marriage and divorce, and a number of substance-related arrests) that eventually led him into New York’s underground art scene.

In 1969, Driscoll's mother contacted officials at Walt Disney Productions, hoping they could help in locating her wayward son in an attempt to reconcile with his near-to-dying father. Disney’s investigation led them to the NYPD, who informed them that Driscoll’s fingerprints matched those of an unidentified body that had been found in a deserted East Village tenement a year earlier. Driscoll was thought to have died right around his 31st birthday, drug abuse having caused heart failure from advanced hardening of the arteries. Though his name appears along with his father’s on a headstone in Oceanside, California, his Earthly remains lay buried in an unmarked pauper’s grave on Hart Island, New York.

Both of these tragic losses cast something of a retroactive pall over Treasure Island, but shouldn’t keep us (or future viewers) from enjoying this wonderful classic adventure film.


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