Peter Cushing vowing to steal the movie right out from under that dratted American star

THE BLACK KNIGHT—EARL OF YEONIL: “Good wine makes a man eloquent.”  SIR ONTZLAKE: “Would you have me wag my tongue?”   Um…Sir Ontzlake? 

1954. The year after the high point glory of Shane, Alan Ladd cranked out four actioners,  Drum Beat, Saskatchewan, Hell Below Zero and this judgement error, the sorriest of the lot. It actually makes The Black Shield Of Falworth and Prince Valiant look good (they came out the same year, making ’54 extra memorable for professors of English History). The clanking of armor, swords and faux-medieval dialogue stumbled into 87th place at the box office, $3,700,000 canceling out the $1,000,000 invested. Directed by the normally adept Tay Garnett (China Seas, The Postman Always Rings Twice), this howler may have been one of the daft matinees that inspired Monty Python to search for the Holy Grail of Mockery.

Left to right: Medina, heifer, Ladd, Morell

Arthurian Britain. Modest blacksmith ‘John’ (Ladd) decides making swords is less fulfilling than swinging them when circumstances (pillage, probable loss of a damsel, banishment, etc.) compel him to train as a knight. ‘Sir Ontzlake’—gesundheit!—(played by urbane André Morell), friend, mentor and member of the Round Table, aids John, who pretty dang quickly (the running time is 85 minutes/four tankards of ale) masters the joust, the thrust, the parry and thanks to a stuntman, the ability to knock off bad guys by the bushel; there’s one scene where Ladd takes out a good sixteen assailants.

The old high-borne lady falling for a common blacksmith bit

The supply of evildoers are directed by the vile duo of Saracen swine ‘Sir Palimades’ (Peter Cushing) and viperish ‘King Mark of Cornwall’ (Patrick Troughton), who aim to get rid of Arthur, Camelot and Christianity. Alec Coppel’s dog-shaggy screenplay mixes Arthurian characters into a stew of historically suspect time periods and bygone tribes/races/nationalities.

“On to Stonehenge!”

Time to writhe like it’s 699

Ladd is even less expressive than usual, Patricia Medina is a brunette blank as the sought-after lady-who-must-be-won (saved first) and King Arthur (Anthony Bushell) is uninspiring. There’s a load of truly cheesy costuming, the headgear particularly absurd and the endlessly noisy score from John Addison (this Saxon’s least favored composer) comes off like a nonstop fanfare. Much clumsy action, with the standout highlight being when Druids, Saracens and Vikings team up to gather at Stonehenge for a wild burn-the-monks party complete with a squad of white-robed pagan babes (bring forth the bare legs!) doing a hubba-hubba number. Then Stonehenge gets toppled, so at least that mystery is finally solved.

“Prepare her for sacrifice! The Sun Gods have decreed the offering must be flaxen-haired!”

Ye Olde Credit where due: Cushing and Troughton exult in their nasty villains, and those who know Cushing from his later horror films or Star Wars will be delighted to see him young (‘ish, he was 40), keenly made up (as a Saracen, boo, hiss) & sneering enough to give pause to Basil Rathbone.

All dressed up and no place to hide

Pitching in (or fetching forthwith) on the script were Dennis O’Keefe and Bryan Forbes. Location filming in Wales and Spain provided views of a dozen castles and some pleasant woodlands, the camerawork accomplished by John Wilcox (Outcast Of The Islands, The Last Valley). With “let’s-just-get-thru-this-and-hit-the-pub” support from Harry Andrews, Laurence Naismith and John Laurie.

Arthur the Artless

Come back Shane!