The Big Whatsit

Yaarrr me hearties! Four score and one years before Johnny Depp donned his hair extensions and started talking like a rum-soaked Jack Tar, Hammer were hoisting up the main sail with lusty pirate exploits of their own! Led by that black-hearted scurvy seadog, Long John Christopher Lee, Hammer’s pirates didn’t actually put to sea at all, but their land-lubbing adventures fair warmed the cockles of an old sea cove’s blarney. So raise the Jolly Roger, crack open a tot of rum, fire a shot across the bows and walk the plank towards Davy Jones’s locker as we step back into ye olde mists of pirate film-making with a yo-ho-ho, and a garrr, and a…

Enough. For a moment, I had stepped into the shoes of Mack, a bawdy stereotype of every screen pirate who ever sailed the four corners of the open blarney, as played winningly in Pirates of Blood River by Michael Ripper. To the uninitiated, Hammer fans’ love for Ripper must appear a strange thing. After all, he wasn’t exactly God’s gift to acting, nor was he anything other than lazily cast. Ripper was the classic Hammer coach driver, or the inn keeper. Now and then he cameoed as a drunk, and just occasionally he got something a little meatier to do. One such case was in this very movie, where he’s a henchman of Captain LaRoche (Lee), and a jolly roger he is too. Until the last few scenes, Mack lights up the screen with his joie de vivre, his love for life, and his interpretation of the pirate’s code - which resonates long after the glowering performances from Oliver Reed and Peter Arne have been forgotten - is one of the very best things in this movie. Why do we love the Ripster? Because he’s good fun, and I imagine bloody good company to boot. When cast correctly, his full-blooded, gleefully amateurish turns can really conjure something memorable from a mediocre picture, which sums up his influence over this otherwise average swashbuckler.

Hammer never spent a buck where a dime would just about paper over the cracks. Though they tried, with some success, to tap into the summer blockbuster market with this moderately budgeted effort, the prospect of supplying action at sea was just too costly to consider. Instead, the story (provided by Jimmy Sangster and scripted by John Hunter) was an entirely land-based affair. After some stock footage of contemporary sailing ships, the prologue takes us straight on to a Caribbean island (actually Berkshire, but they just about get away with it) and sets the scene of a restrictive Hugenot settlement where any ungodly activity is frowned upon, and then some.

Quite clearly, no one outlined this mere detail to Jonathon Standing (Kerwin Matthews), who is first seen romping on the outskirts of the village with Maggie (Marie Devereux). They’re caught, and rather than face the wrath of the local law Maggie throws herself into the river, only to fall prey to a school of piranhas. We don’t see any fish. What we get is a wave of bubbles advancing menacingly towards the comely Devereux; then she flails about a bit and vanishes. For his crime, Jonathon is brought before the Council, led by the village elder and his own father, Jason Standing (Andrew Keir). There, he is condemned to serve in a nearby penal colony, even though the Hugenots are supposed to be in a remote world of their own that’s cut off from civlisation, but you know how it is.

Enter the pirates, who have been alerted to the possibility that the settlement contains some hidden treasure. After Jonathon mounts a daring escape from the colony, he’s picked up by the rogues, and forced to lead them back to his village. But, he asserts, there are no riches! Or aren’t there? LaRoche isn’t so certain, and as their enforced stay in the settlement gets more strained, the captain’s attempt to get his hands on the loot starts taking on increasing levels of violence.

There are many problems with Pirates of Blood River, and they only begin with the concern that a film about piracy is entirely landlocked. The plot is laced with holes, and it doesn’t help that Matthews makes for a terribly bland lead. Selected for his looks, and having already covered action adventure by taking the eponymous role in The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, Matthews can handle action sequences but sinks during the film’s more thoughtful moments. Fellow American actor, Glenn Corbett is also on hand as a peace-loving villager (the trailer rather hilariously describes him as ‘A man who loved peace so much he was prepared to kill for it’), yet he’s just as moribund. Check out just about any American drama serial from the mid-1960s through to Dallas, and invariably you’ll come across Corbett, probably working at the appropriate level for a run of the mill, jobbing actor.

The chops instead go to Hammer’s predictable troupe of British regulars. Keir is marvellous as the Hugenot elder, whose carefully ordered life falls apart with the arrival of the pirates. An early, moody turn from Oliver Reed is fine enough, whilst the well-toned form of Arne makes him one of the more prominent villains. As ever, Lee turns a one-dimensional role as the black-hearted Captain LaRoche (dressed unambiguously in black, with a de rigeur eyepatch and blue headscarf) into something quite wonderful. His secret is to underplay the part, transforming the character into a quietly spoken simmering powder keg that could blow at any moment. It just about makes his stab at approximating a French accent forgiveable.

Despite the uneven acting and shaky plot, the story contains some cracking moments. The discovery of the treasure is nicely paced and a great reveal, and the movie’s last act, when the villagers finally turn on their pirate overlords, lacks the confidence to be as good as it could be, yet makes for a thrilling climax. This is helped by heavy hints that all is not well amongst the pirates, an element that perhaps should have been teased at earlier in the film, along with more expression of the tensions within the Hugenot settlement. Of course, expanding on these plot dimensions could have taken the yarn into directions it doesn’t need to go down. Pirates wasn’t intended to make any profound statements, to give us a glimpse into proto-Pilgrim lifestyles or comment on dissension in the ranks, and it’s worth remembering that this was always made to appeal to family audiences wanting a bit of diversionary fluff, which by all accounts it did.

Hammer’s reputation for superb cinematography is well served here. Director John Gilling and his team work wonders to create a tropical climate from a backlot at their Home Counties studio. Clearly, it was a hot summer when the principal outdoor photography was taking place. Not only do the actors sweat dutifully, but the locations look sunkissed and never out of place. Some praise is also due to Gary Hughes and his epic score. Pirates has a catchy theme tune, and rich strings throughout that don’t impose themselves on the more intense action sequences, such as Reed’s swordfight with Arne that, bizarrely enough, features both protagonists blindfolded.