Treasure Island (1950)

Directed by Byron Haskin; produced by Perce Pearce

Several sinister visitors to a lonely West Country inn reveal the existence of a map to a hoard of pirate treasure. As a result, young Jim Hawkins (Bobby Driscoll) finds himself swept up in an adventure with sea-voyages, marooned hermits, mutinies, cutlasses and cannon-fire, and a treacherous, one-legged pirate named Long John Silver (Robert Newton).

There are a few books that epitomise their subjects: for pirates, it’s Treasure Island. Even fewer are the movies that can translate the spirit of the book to the big screen. This version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s famous novel succeeds in every respect.

One cannot write of 1950’s Treasure Island without writing of Newton’s performance as Silver. It has given to the world more than seventy years’ worth of stereotyped pirate behaviour, especially in the well-known ‘arrr’, Newton’s common utterance in his role. It should be explained, though, that this was no more than an exaggerated Dorsetshire accent; Newton, a Dorset man, gave Silver the dialect of his own youth; ‘arr’ is just the long, drawn out ‘A’-sound. It may be heard in such instances as when Silver addresses the boy; he calls him ‘Arkins’. The ‘arrr’ itself is ‘aye’ (“yes”). If Newton had been born in Yorkshire, perhaps ‘pirates’ these days would be talking like farmers from All Creatures Great and Small.

But Newton’s performance is more than just a few quotes. I have read reviews that call his work in Treasure Island over-acting, or hammy. I think this overlooks Silver’s character. He was himself almost always acting. When first met, he pretends to be respectable, a law-abiding tavern-keeper; he pretends to be friends to a ship’s first-mate; he pretends to be loyal to the squire who hires him; he pretends to honour his promise to his own cohorts. Acting has been one way Silver has survived in the bloody and – literally – cut-throat world he inhabits.

When he casts off his mask, though still grinning and uttering coy turns of phrase, he conveys a true menace; that’s the other way he has survived. This is to Newton’s credit. He makes it credible that a man who can barely pull himself from a sitting position is feared by everyone who meets him. (For a colder, much more urbane character by Newton, see Obsession, reviewed on this blog in January of last year)

Added to Newton’s performance is the fine work of young Driscoll. Having done an excellent job in The Window (reviewed in November, 2020), he does as well here, though the role is less demanding. He and Newton have fine chemistry in Treasure Island, as they must: the relationship between the two characters is fundamental both to the story’s events and to the movie’s success. Jim Hawkins brings out the little good in Silver’s personality, and we see that the pirate would have made an absolutely horrendous father – but probably a loving one.

Mention has been made in reviews of Driscoll’s lack of any kind of English accent. He certainly doesn’t bother trying West Country speech. This, I believe, may have been more a reflection of the director’s or producer’s intentions, than of Driscoll’s talent. Trying to sell to 1950s Americans a movie in which all the characters are foreigners – even English – and even when the movie is Treasure Island, might have been seen as difficult. Making Jim Hawkins a more or less modern American boy could have been seen as a solution. In the event, it does the film no harm.

As for the rest, everything works. The supporting cast includes John Gregson, as Redruth, at the start of his relatively short career; John Laurie, in a small bit as Blind Pew, and Geoffrey Keen, several times the ‘Minister’ in James Bond films, as a particularly sinister Israel Hands.

The atmosphere, the action and the setting should appeal to young and old. The pirates act and talk like pirates, perhaps because Treasure Island set the standard for such; there is sword-play, belaying pins, a jolly roger, buried treasure. The direction is good, though not remarkable; it seems, though, to be like music on a soundtrack: influential but not intrusive. The colour is that 1950s Technicolor that might seem too colourful to modern audiences, but, vivid and bright, is just right for a vibrant adventure film.

There have been other cinematic (and television) versions of Stevenson’s book, and there will be more, but a viewer would be hard-pressed to find one more enjoyable and more memorable than this one.