Between Errol Flynn’s 1935 swashbuckling debut (as a wronged Brit who has to go dark, becoming a feared seafaring renegade, before earning his pardon) and 1940's THE SEA HAWK, you can chart the technical progress made during Hollywood’s Golden Age peak. But it came with a noticeable loss of freshness and sense of discovery. Hollywood lost a lot of soul as the factories perfected their product. (Though, it’s hard to mourn improvements on those static cloud-strewn cycloramas and better frequency range for Korngold’s stupendous scores.) With those wonderful supporting casts and Michael Curitz ’s flavorful direction (so impossibly fluid), not enough credit goes to scripter Robinson Casey’s assured mix of derring-do, romance, comic relief and the surprising emotional pull of all those stirring sentiments. And to Olivia de Havilland’s utter loveliness.
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