Reeling Backward: The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

This identity-switcheroo adventure mixes romance and swashbuckling, but probably should've had David Niven in the lead role instead of as the side piece.

It’s funny; I was a good ways into “The Prisoner of Zenda,” a romantic swashbuckler, and I thought to myself, “Ronald Colman’s not bad in this, but David Niven would’ve been perfect.”

A minute later I realized David Niven actually is in the movie, but not as the Englishman who doubles as a European monarch.

Instead he plays the king’s right-hand man… or rather, the right-hand man’s right-hand man. Niven had just broken into film three years earlier, and was still playing side-piece roles like this. He would gain leading-man status the following year with the release of “Dawn Patrol.”

Niven was so good at playing aristocratic characters with a tweak of insouciance. That’s a good fit for the part of Rudolph Rassendyll, a British adventurer who comes to to the small eastern European country of Ruritania for a fishing holiday and winds up being recruited to play the double of the king, Rudolf V, laid low in a poisoning attempt by his ambitious half-brother.

Colman (“Lost Horizon”) was certainly no slouch, and seems to be having fun in the double role as the Brit and the king, who discover early on they are actually distant cousins. Interestingly, Rudolph alludes to an illicit romance between their forbears that produced the English offshoot — bastards and extramarital sex not generally being something mentioned in Golden Age movies.

They meet while the king is having a visit to his hunting lodge, accompanied by Colonel Zapt (the impressively mustachioed C. Aubrey Smith), a longtime advisor to Rudolf’s father, and Captain Fritz von Tarlenheim (Niven), who is Zapt’s underling. Rudolf is about to be sworn in as king — no word on the timing or disposition of Rudolf IV — and are worried about the machinations of Michael (Raymond Massey), Rudolf’s older half-sibling by a different mother, also without the blessing of wedlock.

(More bastardism!)

Their fears come to pass as, after a night of drinking between the cousins, the king-to-be is poisoned into a deep slumber. Zapt fears Michael will declare his own regency if Rudolf cannot ascend the throne the next day, so they convince Rudolph (the Brit), who looks exactly like his Ruritanian counterpart, to step in for the coronation until the real royalty is recovered.

But then the king is kidnapped by Duke Rupert Hentzau, an ally of Michael’s with ambitions of his own. So Rudolph must carry on the charade a few days longer.

Hentzau is played by Douglas Fairbanks Jr., who wanted the lead role in the movie, but was convinced to play one of the villains by his father, Douglas Sr., who called it the best antagonist role of the century. Fairbanks is indeed terrific, playing Hentzau as a sort of malevolent fop, someone who makes a mockery of things like chivalry and fair play.

Another complication is that, posing as the king, Rudolph falls in love with the royal intended, Princess Flavia (Madeleine Carroll). It’s an arranged marriage between cousins that neither of them was particularly excited about, Rudolf having been Flavia’s tormentor when they were children, dubbing her a “towheaded little scarecrow.”

Flavia returns the imposter’s affections, which will create a major conflict in the final act when all has been put right and Rudolph’s true identity revealed. (Sorry, no spoiler warnings after 88 years.) He offers to marry her anyway, and she wants to, but demurs owing to royal duty and all that.

(It might also have something to do with the fact Rudolf’s coffers are considerably fuller than Rudolph’s.)

Mary Astor, who was one of the first and biggest movie stars of the silent era, has a small but pivotal role as Antoinette, the French paramour of Michael. She loves him despite his being a cad, and collaborates with Rudolph to undermine his schemes in the hopes his being exiled will mean he gives up his ambitions, which include Flavia’s hand as well as the throne.

“The Prisoner of Zenda” was a very 1894 popular novel by Anthony Hope, which was later adapted into a play by Edward E. Rose. Believe it or not, Smith — the elderly colonel in this production — played the Rudolf/Rudolph roles in the original staging. John L. Balderston provided the screenplay adaptation, with some help from Wells Root, Donald Ogden Stewart, Ben Hect and Sidney Howard.

John Cromwell directed, with some uncredited assistance by George Cukor. W. S. Van Dyke was brought in to direct some reshoots. The tone is generally very light, wooing of women and sword fights between the dudes. The rapier thrusts, chiefly in the final showdown by Rudolph and Hentzau, are more convincing than the romantic ones aimed at Flavia.

Overall I found the movie pretty corny, though there are a few spirited moments and some kernels of good dialogue. While kept a prisoner faced with being shot and thrown down a well in his prison cell, he finds the courage to resists Michael’s offer of mercy in exchange for his abdication. “I have not lived as a king, but maybe I can die like one. I'll not disgrace the crown I never wore.”

There is also some impressive camera work and production design. I especially liked Rudolph and Flavia’s long walk down a flight of stairs to the grand ballroom to celebrate their engagement, accompanied by a high-angle tracking shot that was very ambitious for its era.

Lyle R. Wheeler received an Oscar nomination for art direction, as did Alfred Newman for his lush musical score.

The legacy of “The Prisoner of Zenda” lived on in a number of ways. The (mostly) same cast reprised their roles for a few radio productions, and a 1952 film version starring Stewart Granger and Deborah Kerr was a shot-for-shot remake. Producer David O. Selznick announced his intention to make a sequel in the 1940s to be centered on the Hentzau character, but it never came to fruition.

Blake Edward’s 1965 comedy “The Great Race” borrowed the premise of “Zenda,” with Jack Lemmon playing the double roles of prince and professor. And here’s a nugget: director Nicholas Meyer ordered the new Star Trek uniforms created for “The Wrath of Khan” be based on the ones in “Zenda,” a personal favorite film.

It wasn’t one of mine, but “The Prisoner of Zenda” is a prime example of high-end moviemaking by 1930s Hollywood — something for the women, something for the men, and something for the kids.