The Four Feathers

Reviewed by J. Lunden on October 9, 2011

I’ve never had much use for the story of The Four Feathers. However, I am planted firmly in the minority here, as there have been at least nine filmed incarnations of A.E.W. Mason’s original 1902 adventure novel, the most recent being the ill-received 2002 Kate Hudson and Heath Ledger dud. Zoltan Korda’s 1939 production, which is the focus of this review, is arguably the most impressive and tonally accurate of the bunch, yet for all its sweep and circumstance, I remain unswept.

Set in 1882, the film begins with a young boy named Harry Faversham who, it seems, was born without the Faversham penchant for militaristic duty and bloodlust. Harry prefers poetry to stories of patriotic heroism, and this does not sit well with his father, General Faversham. The General fills young Harry’s head with the stories of history’s cowards and how they came to their just, and often bloody, ends. But this only sends Harry deeper into himself. Ten years later, Harry has become a brooding young man, engaged to Ethne Burroughs, the daughter of one of his father’s regiment. After marrying Ethne, Harry resigns his commission just as his unit is called to Egypt. At first glance, it seems that Harry’s resignation is a mixture of antiwar idealism and romantic notions towards his new bride, but the truth is much more prosaic. The General’s abuse had backfired and the illustrations of war that he so mercilessly ingrained into his son’s childhood had, in maturity, robbed Harry of his courage.

In response to his apparent desertion, Harry is sent three white feathers (symbols of cowardice) by the men closest to him in his unit. His beloved Ethne offers an implied fourth. Perhaps concussed by despair, Harry decides to travel to Egypt alone in order to prove his courage, if only to himself. Harry stains his skin and scars his forehead with the mark of an outcast tribe (it’s not a lightning bolt) in order to pass undetected. Luckily, the story places all three of his comrades in convenient scenarios in which Harry can provide rescue services.

As you might have gleaned, the story has a fairly loud undercurrent of imperialism, but my own Anglophilia prohibits me from belaboring that criticism. (God Save the Queen.) And, yeah, the characters, at least in the pared down film adaptations, are merely bundles of preconceived actions going through the motions like bygone animatronics; but the same could be said for every character in 1940’s wonderful The Thief of Bagdad, which was also produced by the legendary London Films (founded by Korda’s older brother, Alexander). And then there’s the fact that the story offers up huge portions of ridiculous coincidence and nearly divine luck to its wrongheaded protagonist. All of these aspects aren’t terribly destructive on their own, especially during this era of British cinema, but here they are compounded, and what should be a ripping good entertainment, plays more like a wet handshake.

Still, Korda’s production, with its Technicolor scope and ambition, is impressive—even if its white man’s burden core is somewhat plodding. The battle sequences are immense and thunderous, and the performances are enjoyable in a “Welcome to Sherwood!” sort of way. I find the film’s history of particular interest, especially concerning Zoltan Korda. Given his reported liberalism, I wonder what drew him to the project, besides his brother’s involvement. Save for a few rebellious moments aimed towards the story’s dogmatic veterans, the film is mostly a conservative affair. Perhaps the challenge of cinematically conquering the Sudanese landscape proved too great for Korda’s personal politics.

There is much to admire in Korda’s The Four Feathers, but I require more T. E. Lawrence in my desert adventures.

The Four Feathers comes to Blu-ray in its original standard aspect ratio of 1.37:1. The transfer utilizes the AVC codec, takes up 34GB of space on the disc, and has a video bitrate of 35.00Mbps.

This is a splendid restoration. The original 35mm elements are in marvelous shape given their age. In fact, the film looks like it was produced 10 years later. There are a few spots of damage and dirt here and there, but nothing detrimental. The picture is very filmic, with a medium grain structure and good detail considering the filtering used. Black levels are as good as can be expected and the Technicolor images (especially reds) look marvelous. I’m back to watching films on a front projector and while I may not be overly fond of the film itself, it was a real treat experiencing Criterion’s transfer.

The Four Feathers is presented here with a 24-bit uncompressed English monaural track at 1152Kbps.

The 1-channel mix is a well-produced and accurate track. Dialogue is crisp and clean and only minor hiss exists underneath. There are very few pops and distortions and Miklós Rózsa’s score resonates well through the front stage.

Criterion has assembled a fine selection of features. Included is an extremely engaging commentary from film historian Charles Drazin; a video interview with David Korda (Zoltan’s son); a wonderful 1939 promotional film called “A Day at Denahm,” which takes us behind-the-scenes at London Films; the film’s theatrical trailer; and a 9-page foldout featuring an essay by Michael Sragow.

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