a life well lived

    Florczak, Robert. Errol Flynn: the illustrated life chronology. Guilford, Connecticut: Lyons Press, 2022. Summary: "Though there have been myriad books on Errol Flynn - scores of biographies, film studies, analyses, etc. - there has never been one that unfurls his dashing life day-by-day, predominantly through photos, letters, news clippings, and documents. This book does so: from Flynn's birth in Hobart, Australia in 1909 through to his death in Vancouver, Canada in 1959. Culled from over 11,000 images in the author's personal collection (many rarely or never before published), from the author's own travels around the world to photograph locations key to Flynn's life, and with text gathered from four years research in the Warner Bros. Archives, the USC Cinematic Arts Library, and the Margaret Herrick Library. Flynn's colorful life was lived out on the world stage and a better candidate for a book of this style would be hard to find." [provided by the publisher].


    With the possible exception of Marilyn Monroe, more books have been written about Errol Flynn than any other film actor. Alas, biographers have not always been generous or forgiving. Indeed, in the first four decades or so after his death most of the Flynn literature focused on the more sensationalist aspects of his life and career, tarring him with a broad brushstroke: lecher, alcoholic, deadbeat, drug addict, Nazi sympathizer, connoisseur of underage girls, and all around out-of-control hedonist. Few public figures have had such a checkered afterlife. Lost in all the lurid, and largely unsubstantiated, haze was anything meaningful about Flynn the actor, or the writer [1].
    But around the year 2000 things began to change, and it’s probably no coincidence that about this time new forms of technology, principally the DVD and the Internet, were just beginning to hit their stride. In the meantime a few pro-Flynn books appeared, including the first scholarly biography [2]. Another factor was the Flynn centenary of 2009, which helped keep the momentum going, and a few years later there was the generally sympathetic portrayal in the film The Last of Robin Hood. Today there are numerous blogs and fan pages, and perhaps more important, DVDs that have been issued which represent a huge swath of the Flynn oeuvre, all of which give us a more rounded portrait of the man and artist.
    Packed full of letters, telegrams, notes, diary entries, receipts, cables, memos, images and various other memorabilia, The Illustrated Life Chronology is more a huge scrapbook, lovingly collected and organized, than a coffee table book or conventional biography. Author Florczak is to be commended for yeoman service in what was obviously a labor of love. While the book is vaguely pro-Flynn, Florczak doesn’t play the role of apologist or vilifier, rather he lets the material speak for itself, and likewise lets the man literally speak for himself. Especially welcome are the images, which include posters of all the films. Also of note are the many informal photos of Flynn and friends, associates and family, which capture Flynn in more candid moments. The rich detail provides aspects of Flynn's life that aren't so well covered: to wit, it struck me how often he was ill and thus the work on a film had to be shut down while he recuperated. This is surprising in view of his athletic, energetic screen image.
    It would be misleading to say that with the present book the long overdue rehabilitation of Errol Flynn is complete. No such thing; he was a man of many shadings and complexities, and it's just too tempting for biographers and commentators to focus on the lurid and scandalous aspects of his life and career. Then again, all the huffing and puffing may be to some extent moot. As  author Florczak points out, for all the fame in his lifetime and the more recent comeback, if you will, he remains a marginal figure in comparison to his better known contemporaries. Perhaps the explanation is Flynn's (in his later years) dissolute public persona, or that he was never taken seriously as an actor, or that the heroic swashbuckler film has gone out of fashion (when a swashbuckler movie does get made these days, it tends to be parody). Whatever the case, the present volume is in its modest way a corrective, and as such allows us to better appreciate as a human being and artist the phenomenon that was Errol Flynn. In short Errol Flynn: the Illustrated Life Chronology is catnip for Flynn fans and will appeal to anyone interested in golden age Hollywood.

    1 An exception to this rather tawdry history was, ironically enough, Flynn’s own autobiography My Wicked, Wicked Ways, published only a few months after his death. Admittedly of dubious accuracy in many of the details, nonetheless the book has a spiritual truth and honesty as it captures the voice and panache of the man himself. And it isn’t totally self-serving: Flynn recalls with relish, sometimes a little too much relish, the more rascally side of his personality. Still, Wicked Ways remains the most exuberant and entertaining biography of a film actor to date, perhaps of any Hollywood personality.
     Aside: In the first sentence of the post I opine that more books have been written about Errol Flynn than any other actor, Marilyn Monroe conspicuously excepted. However, we must also note Orson Welles, who has had lots of books written about him, though they tend to focus more on his work as a director than as an actor.    
    2 Thomas McNulty, Errol Flynn: the Life and Career, Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 2004.

Gothic noir: Cry Wolf (1947)

    Cry Wolf (motion picture: 1947). Henry Blanke, producer; directed by Peter Godfrey; screenplay by Catherine Turney. United States, Warner Bros. Pictures Inc., 1947. Warner Home Video, 2010. From the novel by Marjorie Carleton. Art director, Carl Jules Weyl; music, Franz Waxman; musical director, Leo F. Forbstein; cameraman, Carl Guthrie; editor, Folmer Blangsted.
    Performers: Barbara Stanwyck (Sandra Marshall); Errol Flynn (Mark Caldwell); Geraldine Brooks (Julie Demarest); Richard Basehart (James Demarest); Jerome Cowan (Senator Caldwell); John Ridgely (Jackson Laidell); Patricia White (Angela); Rory Mallinson (Becket); Helene Thimig (Marta); Paul Stanton (Davenport); Barry Bernard (Roberts).
    Summary: Recently widowed Sandra Demarest arrives at the isolated home of her late husband for his wake, but his uncle Mark Caldwell will not allow her to view the corpse. In a grudging gesture of hospitality Mark allows Sandra to stay at the house, but Sandra and Mark are suspicious of each other. Adding to the mix is Mark’s neurotic niece, who also resides in the house and takes a liking to Sandra. Mysterious happenings and dramatic events gradually ensue.

  [editor's note: minor SPOILERS in the comments below].

    An under-the radar diamond in the rough, Cry Wolf is the only film Barbara Stanwyck and Errol Flynn appeared in together. Flynn and La Stanwyck head a strong cast that includes Helen Thimig, Richard Basehart, Jerome Cowan, a very young Patricia Barry, and, in her first film, Geraldine Brooks. I’d never heard of director Peter Godfrey but he had the noirish touch and keeps the story moving apace. Godfrey is ably assisted by composer Franz Waxman and especially cameraman Carl Guthrie, whose atmospheric cinematography bathes things in a sinister overlay. Borrowing huge swaths of Jane Eyre, Rebecca and even Gaslight, Cry Wolf is pretty much composed of equal parts drawing room melodrama, quasi-noir and old dark house thriller. Flynn is cast against type as the brooding head of a well-to-do New England family and he underplays the role nicely, projecting a combination of Eyre’s Rochester and Rebecca’s Maxim de Winter.

    But this is Stanwyck’s movie all the way. She radiates courage, vulnerably, and just plain, eminently Stanwyckian, bad ass grit and determination, and along the way she manages several athletic and equestrian scenes with equal aplomb. There’s not much romantic spark between her and Flynn [1], and their anti-chemistry actually suits the characters and story rather well. By contrast she shows much more chemistry with ingenue Geraldine Brooks [2].

    Cry Wolf received mixed reviews from critics and was not a big hit at the box office despite its unmistakable star power. One explanation: times, and tastes, were changing, and the Gothic thriller was becoming passé. Another factor was that audiences simply couldn’t accept Errol Flynn as the villain, which he more or less is here. Still, the film has aged well. Maybe not a perfect production, and only marginally noir, Cry Wolf nonetheless is expert storytelling served up in old school Golden Age style showcasing two screen legends performing at the peak of their powers. Recommended.

   [1] Information is scarce as to how well Flynn and Stanwyck got along on the set, but I understand there was some friction. An interesting aside: it's been a few years since I've read Flynn's autobiography My Wicked, Wicked Ways, but I don't recall that he ever mentioned either Stanwyck or Cry Wolf. We shouldn't make too much of Stanwyck's absence, however; there were plenty of films he did and persons he worked with that Flynn didn't include specifically in Wicked Ways.   

   [2] Am I way off the mark or is there a hovering Sapphic undercurrent present in the scenes that Stanwyck and Brooks appear in together? Admittedly I may be guilty of conflating character and actor: i.e. relying too much on gossip I’ve read about Stanwyck’s inclinations, which, to be fair, have never been proved, but on the other hand, have never been disproved either.* Interesting this interpretation, because in the context of the story it’s the Brooks character who seems to have a crush on Stanwyck and not the other way around. Aside: their simpatico relationship onscreen in Cry Wolf is somewhat surprising in view of Brooks' later comments that Stanwyck treated her coldly on the set.
    In any event, the two women’s connection is further underscored by a theme Waxman inserts practically every time they are together. The melodic contour is suspiciously similar to a passage from the ‘Liebesnacht’ from Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde. Was this pure coincidence or perhaps an unconscious tell on the composer’s part? Alas, we’ll never know. By the way, the instrumental colorings and harmonic shadings Waxman employs throughout Cry Wolf have overtones, if you’ll pardon the term, of his score for Rebecca, not altogether inapropos given the two films’ distinctly similar vibe.
    As for the Mark character, I’ve read comments that suggest he’s coded gay. True, he’s unmarried, and there’s no mention of a former wife or current girlfriend. But this take is somewhat undercut by his attempted seduction of Barbara. Somewhat caddishly, he explains to her that his kiss was purely ‘scientific’ in nature, and it all earns him a well deserved slap. Gay or no, Mark's creepy, over-protective attitude towards his flighty sister, portrayed so well by the novice Brooks, borders on the kinky. Only later in the story do we find out he has his reasons.
   Sleazy character that he may be, as the film progresses Barbara seems to be falling for Mark, and when Richard Basehart accuses her of being in love with him, she denies it, half-heartedly, then when he asks her again, she doesn’t deny it. Mark’s feelings for Barbara are more ambiguous; aside from the kiss, he shows no romantic tendencies in her direction. The murky, truncated ending holds out the promise of a romantic future for the two, but it’s hardly a sure thing.
       * An ironic footnote to cinematic history and the Stanwyck oeuvre is that she was one of the first actresses to portray a, albeit somewhat toned down, lesbian character in a mainstream Hollywood film. In Walk on the Wild Side (1962), she plays a brothel madam who has an ‘unnatural’ attachment to her star employee, the enigmatic Capucine.

Errol Flynn in Mexico

[editor’s note : Errol Flynn appeared in no films noirs [1], but his life and career have a noirish trajectory and a connection with Mexico that we’ll explore below]

   the stealth intellectual

  Errol Flynn, the proverbial touch of color in a gray world, is my favorite Hollywood personality. Yes, he was irresponsible, gullible, alcoholic, reckless, self-centered and immature, among other failings [2]. But for all his roguishness, Flynn was a man of surprising shadings and complexities. To wit, and contrary to his dissolute public persona, he was that rarest of rare birds in cinema’s Golden Age – an actor who was also an intellectual.
  Flynn’s cerebral nature found expression in various ways: collecting fine art; writing professional-caliber novels and journalistic dispatches; studying marine biology; a keen interest in the world’s political events; a wispy, philosophical sensitivity that he seldom revealed publicly (though hinted at in his autobiography). Flynn’s loftier side could be a source of disappointment: to wit, his perpetual longing for substantial character roles which were not forthcoming until the twilight of his career. 
  The more thoughtful Flynn can probably be seen to best advantage in his colorful and highly literate autobiography, My Wicked, Wicked Ways [3]. Also present in the book is Flynn's shadow side, i.e. his lifelong fondness for drugs and alcohol; single-minded Don Juanish pursuit of the opposite sex (including a penchant for underage girls); and frequent insensitivity - sometimes downright cruelty - to those closest to him. All these and more he recollects in Wicked Ways with almost too much relish. It followed of course that minor annoyances like marital fidelity, financial responsibility, and physical health be damned, and thus Flynn constantly found himself in the bad graces of his Hollywood masters, the press, wives and ex-wives, and on occasion even the law. Ultimately the restrictions and intrusiveness of American society in general and the Hollywood lifestyle in particular inspired Flynn, and other Hollywood luminaries, to seek refuge in the sunnier, more relaxed climes of Mexico [4]. 

    down Mexico way.

   A common theme in American films noirs is the illusory escape to Mexico [5]. South of the Border becomes a place to hide out from dark forces, or the law (or both), an El Dorado where a literally brighter future is possible. And it’s in this context – admittedly however tenuous – that Mexico, film noir, and Errol Flynn intersect.
  Flynn’s connections with Mexico were both numerous and diverting [6]. They included frequent sailing trips, including one in connection with the below-mentioned Lady from Shanghai. It was on one such sailing voyage that he met future starlet and (for a time) companion Linda Christian, the eventual wife of Tyrone Power. And it was in Mexico, with Morelia filling in for Pamplona, that Flynn gave one his last – and best – performances in The Sun Also Rises. And then there was that curious (and somewhat fictionalized?) opium-laden soirée at Diego Rivera’s house which Flynn recalls with obvious affection in his autobiography.
  Much like the proverbial film noir protagonist, Flynn was plagued not only by his own inner demons but also by - real or imagined - external forces of darkness, as represented by creditors, divorce lawyers, tax collectors, bullying producers, paparazzi photographers, and heaven knows what else, with Mexico or Mexico-like places standing in as his retreat from the pressures of the world. With his frequent south of the border sojourns, Flynn could find solace in a real place of vibrant colors, spicy foods, pristine beaches, and, not least of all, beautiful women. It was much removed from the through-the-looking-glass world of Hollywood and even farther removed from the the fantasy version of Mexico, which beckoned, siren-like but ultimately deceptively, to the desperate characters in films noirs. 

  [1] Okay, Flynn technically appeared in at least one film noir, one of the best in fact, though hardly in a starring role. In The Lady from Shanghai, he can be glimpsed (blink and you'll miss him) outside a cantina in Acapulco. Perhaps this was Orson Welles’s way of rewarding Flynn for the use of his yacht the Zaca in the movie, though I’ve also read that the studios paid Flynn $1,500 per day plus expenses for the use of the boat. Some would also cite as an example the curious, late-career The Big Boodle, filmed in Cuba and with a decidedly noir-like look and feel. Flynnophiles are, perhaps rightly, divided on this film’s artistic merits and whether it’s genuine film noir. See also: Thomas Sanfilip, "Errol Flynn, Cuba, and Film Noir: Revisioning The Big Boodle," Journal of Popular Film and Television, v31 n3 (Fall 2003), pp. 141-144. 
     Then there's the quasi-noir Cry Wolf, Flynn's only film with Barbara Stanwyck, which is in truth more a drawing room melodrama/mystery, served up with plenty of gothic, Bronte-esque, style. However, Cry Wolf does give Flynn a chance to (sort of) play the villain for a change.
  [2] If we are to believe imaginative biographers, these were among the milder of Flynn’s character flaws, almost minor virtues when considered alongside his true failings. To wit: wife beater; tax cheat; plagiarist; deadbeat; gun runner; pedophile; communist sympathizer; Nazi agent and notorious anti-Semite; jewel thief and slave trader; and all-around out-of-control hedonist. (When did he ever have time for acting?). In any case, obscured in the sensationalist - and mostly unsubstantiated - haze were Flynn's good qualities, and it must be admitted that a prominent source of misinformation was Flynn himself, with his tendency to embellish and exaggerate the facts. 
  [3] Much has been made of Wicked Ways’ ghostwritten status. To be sure, author Earl Conrad spent three months in Jamaica in 1958-59, assisting Flynn on the book, but sources are vague as to Conrad’s actual role in the mechanics of writing Wicked Ways. Flynn was a born storyteller, and his writing credentials were well-established by this time, with a couple of books, numerous articles and journalistic dispatches, and various half-completed projects to his credit. Why in the world would he need someone to write his autobiography? Indeed, considering the book's quintessentially and uniquely Flynnian voice and attitude, it’s tempting to view the much-vaunted Conrad as little more than a glorified stenographer who occasionally applied some literary polish. His more likely, admittedly significant, contribution was in keeping the project on track and thus assuring the book’s completion, and for that alone he deserves much credit. Nonetheless, ultimately it seems that the ghosted meme has it backwards; it gives far to much credit to Conrad for his role in the book and shows far too little appreciation for Flynn’s genuine literary skills.
  [4] The other sunnier locales of refuge included Majorca, Cuba, Italy and of course his beloved Jamaica. 
  [5] The notion of refuge in Mexico also had a darker, real-life side in the film noir heyday years, which coincided with the Red Scare era. A number of refugees on the Hollywood Blacklist ‘escaped’ to Mexico and continued making a living, as it were, as screenwriters, actors, directors, etc., or worked in related fields, in any case under varying, usually greatly reduced circumstances (Bernard Gordon, Hollywood Exile, or, How I Learned to Love the Blacklist : a Memoir, Austin, University of Texas Press, 1999, p. 33). Curiously, considering his vaguely leftist political views, Flynn was never a target of the Blacklist. However, Flynn’s leftist sympathies and, shall we say, colorful lifestyle did not escape the ever perspicacious gaze of J. Edgar Hoover, who amassed a huge dossier on Flynn that grew to hundreds of pages. Flynn's heavily redacted FBI files are available to view online at Internet Archive. 
  [6] In at least one case the idea of escape to Mexico may have been a literal one. According to Flynn’s account in his autobiography, he had an airplane at the ready to spirit him away to Mexico and beyond if the jury came back with a guilty verdict in the notorious statutory rape trial in 1942. True? Or another of Flynn’s tall tales? We can never be sure, but either way the issue was moot as the verdict was not guilty.