In the canon of great American filmmakers, one name that you will rarely (if ever) see come up in conversation is William Marshall, who was both fortunate and profoundly unlucky to have been working at a time when any competent filmmaker would be hired to direct projects across a range of genres, and their ability to adapt to a particular format or style was always preferable. Interestingly, he emerged not initially as a filmmaker, but rather as an actor and bandleader, who took on increasingly bigger roles behind the camera, until he achieved his biggest successes as a director, more than he ever had as a mildly notable character actor. Most of the films he either appeared in or directed were small, quaint comedies that could be produced quickly and cheaply, being released as rapid-fire films that would entertain audiences without overstaying their welcome. However, he is one of the many people who worked as a director-for-hire that had at least one absolute masterpiece contained within them, which came in the form of Adventures of Captain Fabian, in which he was working from a screenplay by Errol Flynn, who was, in turn, adapting the novel Fabulous Ann Madlock, which he crafted into one of his late-career vehicles (although the production history of the film is far more jagged than it would appear), telling the tragic and compelling story of the love triangle between an impoverished young woman, the rich aristocrat that framed her for murder but who represents everything she wants to achieve for herself, and the free-spirited sailor who essentially saves her life and with whom she forms an unbreakable bond that eventually flourishes into a gorgeous romance. It is a film that occupies many different genres, and its intentions, while sometimes opaque, are made abundantly clear from the start, which only further emphasizes the charm and complexity that went into the creation of this fascinating and compelling adventure.

It is quite clear from its first moments that Adventures of Captain Fabian was designed to be a throwback to the swashbucklers of the days of yore – by the time this film went into production, popular cinema was overrun with Westerns and other big-budget genres, but the very traditional swashbuckler in which Flynn made his name was mostly dormant, every attempt to revive them being either disappointing or underwhelming since there was a spark that the genre lost over time, which we can track to the transition between the silent and sound eras, in which the very physical, emotive nature of the swashbucklers was overtaken by the opportunity to have rapid-fire dialogue, which wasn’t always necessary in previous years. The important distinction here is that Marshall (under Flynn’s request) wasn’t looking to make a film that was simply a one-to-one analogy with previous swashbucklers, since trying to replicate the same success as those in the past would be nearly impossible, and even trying had the potential to cause some controversy. The industry has changed, and this film acknowledges these major shifts, which it does in vibrant, captivating detail. This is a far more serious version of the mythology that surrounds swashbuckling films, a critique of the same ideas that made the genre such a radical success in the first place, as well as an examination of some of the components that eventually saw it go out of style. Much of this isn’t presented directly in the film, since the story itself is relatively conventional and by-the-numbers, and instead much of this commentary occurs when we compare this film with those that came before – there is a much more sombre tone, and while there are many of the same elements (such as a passionate romance and an abundance of death-defying stunts), they are used quite differently, actually leading to quite a harrowing conclusion, proving that not every adventure film is bound to have a happy ending and that some are bound to end on a downbeat note, which seemed to be entirely purposeful here.

The entire reason we have this film is because of Flynn, who worked laboriously to bring this story to the screen. Unlike many of his contemporaries who commissioned writers to put together starring vehicles for them, Flynn decided to do it himself, writing the screenplay and actively working to ensure this film got made, which was unprecedented for an era in which the boundary between those in front of the camera and those behind it was very clear, and crossing over was considered almost taboo – but when you are arguably one of the most famous actors in the history of the industry, you tend to be able to make some demands, which is why this film works so well, as Flynn was insightful enough to not only write the kind of film in which he wished to star but did so in a way that was far from self-centred or entirely vain. He is naturally excellent in the film, and no one has ever been quite as charming as he was on screen (except perhaps Cary Grant, but they were different enough as actors to never have much crossover in the kinds of roles they played), and he holds court here, proving that he was still at the peak of his abilities, and command the screen like no one else. He is joined by the charming and unexpectedly subtle Micheline Presle (who was married to Marshall, her involvement being what essentially brought him to the project since Flynn was adamant about having her play the part of the lovelorn housemaid-turned-socialite), and the always exceptional Vincent Price, who is playing one of his most sinister villains, one that sees him try a few new techniques, portraying the maniacal aristocrat with a terrifying darkness, rather than the vaguely amusing, smirking and deceptive charm that he usually demonstrated. The cast work together well, and help supplement the very impressive film by delivering strong performances that often overtake our expectations in a genre not normally known for nuance when it comes to character development.

It is honestly surprising that Adventures of Captain Fabian was Marshall’s first endeavour as a director since it showcases a deep thoughtfulness and immense creativity that we don’t often find, and while it is not a film that is immune to the many shortcomings associated with the genre, it has a solid foundation and a strong meaning, which is perhaps the reason it feels like such a successful production, despite the trouble associated with it. The pure visual splendour that accompanies this film is remarkable – we have to give kudos to Robert Florey, considered one of the most unheralded directors of the period (based in part on the fact that he was incredibly talented, but was essentially shoehorned into directing only B-movies, which didn’t give him the space he needed to reach his full potential), and who goes entirely uncredited as director, and was only officially hired as a “consultant” to the production, but who had an active role in bringing this film to the screen, working alongside Marshall, who was still in the process of developing his directorial voice, to create a vivid and memorable adventure film. The pairing is fascinating, since both directors have radically different styles that one would imagine would stand in stark contrast to one another, but work very well together. As is often the case with these adventure films, the visuals are just as important in the story (the balance between the two is the primary reason many have succeeded once it is found), and Adventures of Captain Fabian is certainly not an exception in any way. The cinematography by Marcel Grignon is astonishing – there are some moments of incredible beauty that occur in places we would not expect, and the level of detail brought to every frame is worth the price of admission alone. Aurally, the score by René Cloërec is distinct and striking, adding a level of emotion to every scene (while never feeling overwhelming), simultaneously being eerie and triumphant, which is not a common achievement, and all part of the impressive accomplishment that is this film.

Surprisingly, Adventures of Captain Fabian is not held in higher esteem, being viewed mainly as one of the final vanity projects by the notoriously self-invested Flynn, who was known to engage in quite blatant attempts to supplement his image as being a real-life hero, almost to the point where writing his starring vehicle was seen as an achievement. It is difficult to not appreciate the extent to which everyone went in the creation of this film, and there is a lot of technique required to bring this story to life, especially in a way that was both exciting and complex. This film is an extraordinary and daring achievement, handcrafted by someone with a genuine fondness for the material, and who goes to great lengths to tell a story that could potentially have been a dismal failure, but ends up being extremely charming, deeply captivating and consistently charming. There is genuine artistry that propels this film and makes it such an absolute delight, from the well-crafted conversations around national pride, the action-packed sequences that defy human logic (which ends in a hand-to-hand battle between Flynn and Price, one of the most fascinating fights ever captured on film, and one oddly beautiful in its pure viscerality), and the unique approach to challenging material. There is a wonderful nuance that drives this film and makes it feel so profoundly modern and exciting. Credit has to be given to everyone involved, since this is a collaborative effort, and the final product is an absolute marvel. Perhaps it is hackneyed to say that they simply don’t make films like they used to anymore, and despite being quite a small film, Adventures of Captain Fabian is most certainly a great reminder of this fact.