BY HANK REINEKE
The tales of adventure, fantasy and science-fiction
penned by the great French novelist Jules Verne have served as filmmaking
source material since the silent era. In
the 1950s and early 60s such films as Disney’s 20,000 Leagues under the Sea (1954), U.A.’s Around the World in 80 Days (1956), Fox’s Journey to the Center of the Earth (1959), and Columbia’s Mysterious Island (1961) had studio cash
boxes ringing. Verne’s charming mix of
adventurous whimsy and exciting scenarios were big moneymakers. They would all capitalize, in part, by the
fact these were “family†films that promised a couple of hours of
cross-generational entertainment.
So it was not surprising when James H. Nicholson and
Samuel Z. Arkoff of American-International Pictures thought it might be time to
get into the game. “You can get an
indication of public taste by observing the pictures that are doing good
business at the box office,†Nicholson would tell a writer from the Atlanta Constitution during a May 1961 stopover. “You can also detect growing trends.â€
It was obvious that the most recent trend to catch his
attention was the success of the big studio Jules Verne pictures. Not to let a money-generating bandwagon pass,
AIP would chose Verne’s’ 1886 novel Robur
the Conqueror as their next big project. Technically, their film would be a mashup of the latter title with 1904
successor, Master of the World. “Jules Verne is the kind of writer whose
stories appeal to the family trade,†Nicholson opined, acknowledging the family
trade was good business. But he admitted
that the “combining two of [Verne’s] classics into a film represents quite a
challenge.â€
That may have been so but, as one Los Angles newspaper would
note, it was a challenge AIP considered worthy of undertaking. Similarly to their series of celebrated Edgar
Allan Poe films, Verne’s Master of the
World could be freely adapted as a feature-length film, “without paying a
quarter to a half a million†for the rights. Public Domain status was a copyright-free blessing of the Gods to frugal
film producers.
As might be expected, Arkoff was typically the less publically
diplomatic of the two AIP producers. His
occasional press interviews would invariably tilt to the importance of
producing a bankable, unapologetically exploitable feature. He wanted the company’s product to ring at
the cash register, uninterested in birthing an under-attended critic’s darling type of film. “We make pictures for the young in heart, as
well as the young in mind,†Arkoff confessed to Hollywood publicist Joe Hyams. “Neither Jim nor I have any Narcissus
love. We don’t make art for art’s
sake. To us making movies is a
business. Fundamentally, we’re trying to
amuse and entertain people, with only one objective – to make money. The way most other Hollywood producers talk
they’re ashamed of making money.â€
The two men shared one thing in common: they were
actually happy to be industry mavericks. Their modest, targeted productions
enabled them to not deal often with “temperaments, agents, and Hollywood
paraphernalia.†The cigar-chomping Arkoff
boasted that as long as there was a topical market ripe for exploitation,
“we’ll be in the business. When the
trend changes, we change. We make money,
we’re happy men.â€
The Poe series had put a bit of disposable cash in the
studio’s vault, so it was promised that their Master of the World project would be a lavish one, exacting to its
creator’s visions – well, within limits. “We had to see that the sets followed the Verne descriptions in
meticulous detail,†Nicholson confided. “They
had to look ornate, and yet be scientifically correct.†Though AIP favorite Vincent Price would be
brought aboard to star as Verne’s Robur the Conqueror, the real star attraction
of the film was to be the villain’s magnificent airship, the Albatross.
The producers tapped Richard Matheson to combine the two
Verne novels into a single story. Matheson was happy to accept the challenge. The author preferred to cultivate a
reputation as an “off-beat†writer or “story-teller,†than one pigeonholed as
someone working within a single genre. In
the finally summation, and while Matheson was properly defensive of his work on
the film’s screenplay, the script is certainly not the best of his storied
career.
The film is set in the pre-Wright Bros. age of 1868. It’s no sooner than one disgruntled citizen
proclaimed Morgantown, PA, as the “most boring and monotonous town in the
U.S.,†that a strange, disembodied voice - reciting scripture - booms
mysteriously from the foreboding mountain top of Great Eyrie. Word of the strange event makes its way to
Philadelphia, where an agent from the Department of the Interior, John Strock
(Charles Bronson), chooses to pay a visit to a balloon society meeting at
Independence Hall.
Strock is seeking an experienced team to carry out a
ballooning expedition so he can inspect the crater of Mount Eyrie from on high. The team chosen from the Weldon Balloon
Society is the cantankerous, arms manufacturer Prudent (Henry Hull), his beautiful
daughter Dorothy (Mary Webster) and her fiancé Phillip Evans (David Frankham). Their expedition is cut short when a missile
brings down their balloon. They soon are
held as temporary prisoners of Robur the Conqueror (Vincent Price), quartered
aboard his massive, paper-weight flying machine the Albatross.
The foursome learn that Robur, a self-proclaimed “citizen
of the world,†is both bellicose and rabid in his pacifist beliefs and aviation
enthusiasms. He ridicules Hull and
company, pronouncing ballooning as dead. “The future belongs to the flying machine,†he bellows, noting the
military munitions-equipped, 150 MPH Albatross
as an example of modern aviation’s progress. From aboard the vessel, it’s Robur’s intention to effectively “war
against war… to end for all time the scourge of war.â€
Paradoxically, he plans to drop the munitions of warfare
on the imperialist capitols of the world. While he does pre-warn his targets to “disarm or perish,†there will be,
of course, a pushback. Seeking an end to
warfare makes the obsessed Robur, arguably, a somewhat complicated villain. His aim is entirely an unselfish, principled
one. Even agent Strock concedes that
he’s not necessarily angered by Robur’s “ambition†but only by “his method†of
obtaining it. Can Robur be stopped? Should he be stopped?
There was the usual ballyhoo pumping up the film’s
release. The gossip columns were
reporting that in addition to Price receiving his “regular salary†for his role
in Master of the World, the producers
had also agreed to toss in a twenty-thousand dollar cityscape painting by the -
recently deceased - French artist Maurice Utrillo. The offer would serve as a prized bonus, one the
actor could add to his famous personal art collection. Charles Bronson, with
whom Price would first appear on screen with in House of Wax, was also cast, not necessarily against type, but in a
role not playing to his strength. For
reasons known to no one but the gruff actor himself, Bronson was reportedly
difficult and aloof on set, skulking around with a chip on his shoulder for
some unknown reason.
Matheson would admit he was “a little disappointed†with
the finished film. He believed, not unreasonably, the half-million dollars allotted
to the production wasn’t adequate to present the scope of its vision. It also thought the “casting was off,†mentioning
Bronson in particular as ill-suited for the role as Strock. The actor was described by several of the
film’s principals to be more than a bit standoffish while working on Master of the World. Matheson thought Bronson uncomfortable with much
of the script’s Victorian era dialogue since delivering such florid lines was
clearly not his style. Following a
less-than-friendly first encounter with the actor, Matheson recalled Bronson
telling him that he preferred to play “the part as a coal miner.†He was more
or less was a man of his words in that regard. Vincent Price, who famously could get along with practically anyone and
or off set, was also tested by the sulking Bronson, sighing to friends, “I
can’t get through to this guy. I cannot
make friends with him.â€
Curious casting aside,
Master of the World has simply never been a favorite film of mine. It’s certainly has never been one my favorite
Vincent Price, AIP, nor even Jules Verne film adaptations. It simply doesn’t work. I might have held a bit of nostalgia for the
film had I seen it on the big screen as a child, especially watching the
glorious panoramic shots of the Albatross
exterior in flight. But I didn’t… and truthfully
the film tends to meander, seeming much longer than its 102 minute running
time. I might also be in agreement with Bronson’s assessment that much of the dialogue
is too grand eloquent and over-wordy.
The film should have been a bit more fun than it ever
is. Here’s a case where the film’s accompanying
fifteen-cent Dell comic-book adaptation might have served the story
better. One also might have expected the
film’s action sequences to be a bit more exciting than staged. Director William Witney, after all, had made a
career since the 1930s of cranking out adventure, super-hero and western
serials. But there’s very little
edge-of-you-seat excitement on display here.
What we do get is
a lot of stock footage. Some of the
footage is amusing, if used merely as a bit of running-time padding. The first few minutes of the film features an
amusing, monochrome series of clips documenting man’s earliest attempts – and
resultant failures - to “touch the stars†through flight. The later battle scenes of Robur’s airborne
war against the world’s capitols are mostly humdrum, clipped from bleak wartime
stock-footage. Les Baxter’s score is undeniably
wonderful, but is terribly over-used, under-pinning nearly every scene to the
point of becoming tiresome. It’s better
to experience the great score as a standalone on the film’s soundtrack LP (Vee
Jay 4000). I’s still say Master of the World is worth a watch, if
only on a rainy day.
This Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu ray edition of Master of the World is presented here in
a 1920x1080p with an aspect ratio of 1.85:1 and dts sound, removable English
subtitles and an attractive slipcase cover. The set also includes the extended featurette Richard Matheson: Storyteller originally offered on the MGM
“Midnight Movies†DVD of 2001. There are
also a number of audio commentary tracks featuring a number of film historians,
authors, and actors including Tom Weaver, Lucy Chase Williams, and David
Frankham. The release rounds out with
the film’s original theatrical trailer as well as a generous sampling of titles
from Kino’s expansive catalog of Vincent Price films.
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