A lot of undemanding fun, this story of Gentleman Jim Corbett delivers Errol Flynn as a member of a brash, Irish, San Francisco family. We don't get the usual montage of the young man discovering his talent, of working out furiously, of battling his way to the top, of being almost undone by inner demons before conquering them, and his redemption. None of that stuff.
Corbett and his ever-combative brothers and his comic friend (Jack Carson) are ordinary workers who happen to enjoy the brawls that, in 1891, passed for prize fights. Invited to get into the ring at the hoity-toity Olympic Club, Flynn dances about, patters his opponent with left jabs, and wins. Voila! He's a natural talent. I'm told that the fight scenes are realistic and I guess I believe it, although it's hard to believe that Corbett's every bout ended in a concussive event.
He acquires a loud-mouthed, cigar-chewing manager (William Frawley), wangles his way into a bout with the robust fanforan John L. Sullivan (Ward Bond) and beats him to become Heavyweight Champion of the world. As ex-champ, Sullivan is involved in the only sentimental scene in the film, when he shows up at Corbett's gala and quietly presents him with the World Champion silver belt, while Auld Lang Syne hums quietly in the musical score.
Oh -- and Flynn wins the girl too, Alexis Smith.
The story is built on the bare bones of Corbett's career. San Francisco was, and is, the kind of city that might produce such a character. The city has never had a population greater than one million and yet is noted for its academic institutions, its history (earthquake and fire), its literariness (Jack London, the Beatniks), and its "culture" in the demotic sense (Enrico Caruso scurrying out of the Palace Hotel during the quake, clutching a picture of Teddy Roosevelt; "Big Eye" paintings). If a community can produce an Emperor Norton who is tolerantly allowed to claim he owns the city, and Joe DiMaggio too, well -- why not a champion boxer? Flynn isn't required to do very much but it doesn't show because neither is anyone else. An unpretentious Warner Brothers' flick.
Corbett and his ever-combative brothers and his comic friend (Jack Carson) are ordinary workers who happen to enjoy the brawls that, in 1891, passed for prize fights. Invited to get into the ring at the hoity-toity Olympic Club, Flynn dances about, patters his opponent with left jabs, and wins. Voila! He's a natural talent. I'm told that the fight scenes are realistic and I guess I believe it, although it's hard to believe that Corbett's every bout ended in a concussive event.
He acquires a loud-mouthed, cigar-chewing manager (William Frawley), wangles his way into a bout with the robust fanforan John L. Sullivan (Ward Bond) and beats him to become Heavyweight Champion of the world. As ex-champ, Sullivan is involved in the only sentimental scene in the film, when he shows up at Corbett's gala and quietly presents him with the World Champion silver belt, while Auld Lang Syne hums quietly in the musical score.
Oh -- and Flynn wins the girl too, Alexis Smith.
The story is built on the bare bones of Corbett's career. San Francisco was, and is, the kind of city that might produce such a character. The city has never had a population greater than one million and yet is noted for its academic institutions, its history (earthquake and fire), its literariness (Jack London, the Beatniks), and its "culture" in the demotic sense (Enrico Caruso scurrying out of the Palace Hotel during the quake, clutching a picture of Teddy Roosevelt; "Big Eye" paintings). If a community can produce an Emperor Norton who is tolerantly allowed to claim he owns the city, and Joe DiMaggio too, well -- why not a champion boxer? Flynn isn't required to do very much but it doesn't show because neither is anyone else. An unpretentious Warner Brothers' flick.