The Sea Hawk (Michael Curtiz, 1940)

As the Spanish formulate plans to invade England, privateer Geoffrey Thorpe (Errol Flynn) and his colleagues try to convince the queen to build a fleet of her own, to no avail.

When Thorpe is captured while on a secret raid in Panama, he realises there must be a spy in the queen’s inner circle.

Hijacking a prison galley, he attempts to make it back to England, to clear his name, and unmask the traitor…

If The Adventures of Robin Hood is a peak of swashbuckling for its quality, The Sea Hawk feels like a peak for sheer scale.

The Sea Hawk was the only Errol Flynn movie I had seen before Robin Hood.

I watched it as a kid, probably as a rental, and remember loving it. I was obsessed with pirates and sailing ships so it was right in my wheelhouse.

While the other films I have covered in this genre felt like a reflection of the Great Depression, The Sea Hawk was made in the shadow of war - and it barely counts as subtext:

We open with King Philip of Spain raging against England as a bulwark of resistance to his dream of world domination. It is a scene meant to cast the Spanish as an analogue for the Nazis.

What follows is an epic treatment of the genre, where every element is super-sized - except one element:

It is shot in black and white, possibly a way to keep the budget down.

The photography is gorgeous, and makes clever use of the format - in one memorable moment, chiaroscuro is used to create massive duelling silhouettes behind the combatants.

At two hours, it is longer than previous Flynn vehicles, and jam-packed with setpieces: we get multiple sword fights, including two in which Thorpe (Flynn)  has to fight multiple opponents.

The film really takes off during Thorpe’s failed raid in South America - shot with a yellow filter to represent the temperature.

Thorpe and his surviving crew end up enslaved on a galley, which leads to an eventual escape.

This section of the film, from ambush to galley hijacking is tense - in the latter scene, lots of close ups of hands pulling chains free while guards sleep only metres away.

In contrast to contemporary action films, the final action sequence is a sword fight on land, as Thorpe engages in a running battle with guards through Queen Elisabeth’s castle.

While it lacks the character conflict of the final sword fight from Robin Hood, as an exercise in choreography and cinematography, it is exhilarating. 

While the film has a romantic subplot, the key dynamic is between Thorpe (Flynn) and Queen Elizabeth (Flora Robson), as he attempts to persuade her of the threat posed by Spain.

They have so much chemistry, you forget he is technically entangled with Dōna Maria (Brenda Marshall).

The film ends with the Queen declaring she will build a fleet that will not only face down the Spanish threat, but future ones - including the future existential one they faced in 1940.

While the action is propulsive, this is the one Flynn vehicle where the emphasis feels a little more concerned with mindgames and interpersonal dynamics. Thorpe’s real victory is in winning the Queen’s favour, not the sword fight.

In this way, it feels more like a Tyrone Power movie.

It is a little too long - and the romance is dull as ditchwater - but overall, The Sea Hawk is a fun romp.

Related

The Adventures of Robin Hood

Mark of Zorro 

The Black Swan

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OUT NOW: Ballerina (Len Wiseman, 2025)

After her family are slain by a mysterious clan of assassins, Eve (Ana de Armas) is adopted by the Ruska Roma, and raised to become a trained killer for the High Table.

When she discovers a clue to her father’s killers after an assignment, Eve disobeys orders to go after this clan and their bloodthirsty leader, the ‘Chancellor’ (Gabriel Byrne).

I have not watched the John Wick movies after one viewing. I remember loving the first one, but the next two sequels went in a direction I did not care for - building out the mythology and the rules to such an extent that the series seemed to lose any sense of stakes.

Chapter 4 benefitted from being the finale. I left that film satisfied.

Ballerina is the first attempt to build out the Wick universe without the title character.

Based on an original script that was retrofitted to become a side-story in between Wicks 3 and 4.

The film underwent further revision in production, with series helmer Chad Stahelski  brought on to help with shooting more action sequences.

The behind-the-scenes tinkering does not really show. The story is a simple revenge story, and it cycles through its origin section in less than an hour, so de Armas is on the hunt for the people who killed her father.

I tend to tune out during the sections referencing the wider rules and mythology.

But for the first time since the original, it feels like an actual assassin movie, with de Armas shown on at least two assignments.

On the one hand, Ballerina is a straightforward action film - a relatively simple story connecting a series of set pieces.

On the other hand, the film feels like it is striving for something more complex, but that sense of forward momentum inhibits any attempt at adding flesh to the bone and sinew. 

The town of assassins is a fun idea.

And the variety of action sequences is enough to recommend the movie on its own - we get a fight involving plates, ice skates, a fun twist on the armoury scenes of the previous films, and a battle of duelling flame throwers.

The sheer level of invention and willingness to keep the character - and the viewer - on their toes keeps up interest.

The scene in which Eve has to protect a target from assassins while armed with rubber bullets is a real standout - this is meant to be the character’s first test in the real world, and - despite her skills - spends the first half of the sequence getting pummeled about a night club.

The film does not make the mistake of making her instantly a pro - the way it is performed and choreographed makes it feel like de Armas is learning from each (painful) mistake and improvising her way out of trouble.

While she has presence, and holds herself in the action sequences, Ballerina herself is a bit of a blank.

The character is introduced with a desire for revenge, the film’s villain talks about how she is fated to become a killer, she trains to be a killer, she becomes a killer, she breaks orders to go on her own mission, and kills said villain.

There is no real obstacle or conflict she has to face - even her confrontation with John Wick Carries little weight

The character is one-note, and Ana de Armas is just fine.

This is where the franchise tone gets in the way - the series is so inherently dour.

Not to say that the Wick movies are not funny - each movie has some hilarious physical gags, and there are some nice touches of humour here (the search for a gun under plates is inspired).

But in the world of Wick, with its sense of melancholy and regret, of loss and impending doom, de Armas feels a touch out of place.

What made de Armas so engaging in Knives Out and No Time To Die - her inherent sense of guilelessness - is completely absent here.

It feels like the actress is working with one hand tied behind her back, and she ends up feeling a little generic.

I was hoping that the film would be a little more original, and less plugged-in to the lore of the Wick franchise - aside from the title character’s cameo, the film fits in with the broader mythology. The cult our heroine has to face is outside of the High Table, so we get less of the ridiculous inner-workings of the assassins’ world.

Despite being a relatively simple revenge story, Ballerina has none of the inherent emotional pull of the first film - which would be fine, if the movie did not feel the need to constantly remind us of Wick’s past and future (the film takes place midway through Chapter 3).

Hopefully a sequel will allow de Armas and this series room to step out of Wick’s shadow.

Related

John Wick Chapter 2

John Wick Chapter 3 - Parabellum 

John Wick Chapter 4

If you are new to this blog, I also co-host a podcast on James Bond, The James Bond Cocktail Hour. 

You can subscribe on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

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Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes (Wes Ball, 2024)

Centuries after Caesar’s death, young ape Noa (Owen Teague) goes on a rescue mission to save his tribe from enslavement by a deranged raider (Kevin Durand) who styles himself Caesar’s successor…

Thank the movie gods for Kevin Durand. He literally swings into the picture at the halfway point, and brings a charisma and energy that the film sorely needs.

To its credit, this film tries to extend on the themes of the previous reboot trilogy, particularly the focus on the ape paranoia around human motivations.

Most intriguingly, it sets up the idea of Caesar’s influence, moving from a flesh-and-blood being to a vague idea that is used and perverted in different ways.

The big problem is lead Noa (Owen Teague).

His motives are hard to track.

He starts as the son of the clan chief.

He seems to feel like he cannot live up to his father, but he seems incredibly capable of whatever task is put in front of him.

He gains some drive when his father is killed and his clan are kidnapped, but he is too reactive.The film also cannot find an angle on humans.

The film tries to create a sense of ambiguity but May, in character and performance, is a little bland.

The characters have little rapport, which makes their journey a little aimless.

The one character who makes this section interesting is orangutan Raka (Peter Macon), a historian of the dead human world. 

Sardonic, worldly, slightly full of himself, he is a worthy successor to Maurice from the previous trilogy.

A hermit, his awkward social interactions with Noa  bring a welcome dash of specificity and weirdness to the movie. 

One wishes he was in the movie more, but then the characters meet Proximus Caesar.

Kevin Durand gives the warlord a swagger and thuggish menace. Suddenly the movie seems to elevate, and to reorient itself around him.

Why does this franchise cast Bonobos as the villains? Koba made sense as a result of human cruelty.

Proximus lusts for power and sees human history and technology as his prizes, and a way to launch apes beyond them.

If these films were realistic Proximus would not be planning world domination, but having sex with everybody.

It is hard to see where this franchise is going.

The finale teases another confrontation with humans , but that hook carries far more dramatic tension than this episode.

If the film has a hero, it is director Wes Ball.

His direction elevates the film’s set-pieces, and gives a sense of dynamism to some scenes.

There is a sense of tangibility, particularly to the action: 

Noa’s running escape/fight with Proximus’s gorilla henchman Sylva (Eka Darville) is remarkable for the way water and light play on the apes’ fur. It feels so tactile.

Visually, Kingdom is sumptuous, but it lacks any real dramatic or thematic weight.

Frustratingly, the final cliffhanger teases a story with conflict that should have been the foundation of this movie. Frankly this information should have been a part of the film. As is, Kingdom feels like a fill-in episode in a bigger story, like a comic book or novel that offers a little more context to some other story.

In this respect, the film strays toward Marvel territory - Proximus never comes across as a major antagonist. He is rendered a minor threat, undermined at every turn to set up whatever the bigger bad ‘un is in the next picture.

Related

Planet of the Apes 

Beneath the Planet of the Apes

Escape from the Planet of the Apes 

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes 

Battle for the Planet of the Apes 

Planet of the Apes (2001)

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

War for the Planet of the Apes

If you are new to this blog, I also co-host a podcast on James Bond, The James Bond Cocktail Hour. 

You can subscribe on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

If you enjoy something I wrote, and want to support my writing, here’s a link for tips!

War for the Planet of the Apes (Matt Reeves, 2017)

Koba’s dream has come to pass.

Inter-species war has begun between apes, led by Caesar (Andy Serkis) and humans, led by a maniacal soldier called the Colonel (Woody Harrelson).

Can Caesar keep his own counsel, or will the Colonel’s violence lead him down the path Koba paved?  

Echoing the openings of the previous entries, we see the repercussions of what has gone before.

One has to give these movies credit - they are not afraid of not pulling punches. 

War is in full swing, and no one is safe: Harrelson’s Colonel is introduced killing Caesar’s wife and son.

The fallout from Koba - literal and psychological - continues to ripple outward.

Koba haunts this movie, in ways both literal (Caesar is haunted by visions of his slain foe; the apes who follow the Colonel out of a sense of vengeance) and metaphorically.

Koba was such a strong villain, such a perfect complement to Caesar, that this movie struggles to get out of his shadow.

The movie is ultimately lesser because it is so dependent on its predecessor for thematic and dramatic effect.

Not that this is a bad thing:

The Colonel is the embodiment of Koba’s fears of humans.

Aside from David Owyelo’s callous executive in Rise, he is the first real human villain the reboot series has had.

Previous human antagonists were motivated for understandable reasons. 

The Colonel is a species-ist (and ableist) fascist who is so extreme that, halfway through the movie, it is revealed he has gone rogue and is about to go to war with his own kind.

A homage to Apocalypse Now’s deranged Kurtz, he is the human equivalent of Koba. 

He is ultimately less important as a foe than as a catalyst for our hero. His actions force Caesar to reconsider his entire approach. 

In contrast to Koba’s mindless rampage, Caesar’s focus is on protecting his people, while the civil war between the humans plays as background action. 

Ironically, this final battle causes an avalanche. This set-piece is Caesar’s final act of violence - wiping the slate and leads to his own death.

The movie becomes a full-on Moses analogue: 

Caesar dies as his people finally  reach their new home. 

His death represents the severing of a chain of escalation that started with a chimp in a lab. 

The loop is finally closed.

A solid trilogy closer, War for the Planet of the Apes is not as emotionally resonant as the middle chapter, but it carries the story forward, and leaves the slate clear for whatever comes next…

Related

Planet of the Apes 

Beneath the Planet of the Apes

Escape from the Planet of the Apes 

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes 

Battle for the Planet of the Apes 

Planet of the Apes (2001)

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

If you are new to this blog, I also co-host a podcast on James Bond, The James Bond Cocktail Hour. 

You can subscribe on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

If you enjoy something I wrote, and want to support my writing, here’s a link for tips!