The Master of Ballantrae

  

 

The Master of Ballantrae (1953) is based on Robert Louis Stevenson's book of the same name. It's directed by William Keighley and stars Errol Flynn, Roger Livesey, and Anthony Steel. 

If you're not familiar with the summer of '45, when the young pretender did arrive and the defeat of the Jacobins in April of 1746 at Culloden Field, you might still enjoy this movie. Errol Flynn plays one of two Scottish brothers at the heart of this story. He elects to support Bonnie Prince Charlie, leaving his younger brother to side with the British so that whichever side prevailed, one of them would be on the winning side. The plot is complicated by the fact that Jamie (Flynn) is in love with or perhaps even engaged to Lady Allison (played by Beatrice Campbell) and yet also favors a comely serving wench, Jessie Brown (played by Yvonne Furneaux). When Jamie is on the run from the British, Jessie, angered by Jamie's willingness to cast her aside to marry Lady Allison, slips word to the British, allowing an ambush. 

Jamie escapes the ambush, but believes his brother Henry (Anthony Steel) let the cat out of the bag to the redcoats so that he could inherit the Ballantrae title and lands without any difficulties from his brother. Jamie returns to accuse him of the dirty deed and manages to get a misplaced piece of cutlery in his ribs. When Henry, believing he has accidentally slain Jamie, goes for help, Jamie goes or is taken away. Jamie ends up on a ship bound, not for France as he was told and for which passage he was paying, but for the Caribbean (or maybe it was the South Seas, I forget). 

Jamie and his Irish mercenary friend are impressed into service on the ship, but assist the pirates who capture the ship. They join the pirates who are led by Captain Arnaud (played by Jacques Berthier).

After taking the ship, they work together to take another pirate ship loaded with treasure. As you might expect, they have a falling out and Arnaud comes in second in the duel that follows. Naturally, Jamie heads back to Scotland with his friend of the smiling Irish Eyes--MacKellar (played by Mervyn Johns - I think).

He arrives back at the old homestead to discover his father and brother hosting a party attended by a plethora of redcoats. Jamie and MacKellar attend under false names so the British won't recognize them as wanted fugitives. However, when Jamie learns the party is also an engagement party for Lady Allison and Henry, he blows his own cover to fight his brother. They sword-up, but the wandering monster table rolls up a flurry of redcoats (what with them being present with the fight started and all) and it turns into a storm of swordplay betwixt the House of Ballantrae and the Brits. Jamie and MacKellar nearly escape, but are captured.

With the gibbet all in readiness to receive Jamie and MacKellar, Jessie confesses that she was the one who betrayed her lover to the enemy in a fit of jealousy, and Lady Allison reminds him of his family motto, which isn't "Keep looking up" but does involve something of that nature. Jessie aids in the escape and is killed. Jamie and MacKellar escape with Lady Allison, who always loved Jamie and was only marrying his brother as the next best copy when the original was lost.

There's a fair amount of swordplay and even a broadside or two from battling ships. The fights are good but the whole miscommunication and withholding of information between the brothers about the who betrayed Jamie to the redcoats jarred the scales of credibility. The acting and writing weren't terrible, but the story seemed rushed, as though key portions were being skipped to condense the tale to be told in under two hours. I enjoyed the costumes, swordplay, setting, and situation. I give it 3.5 berets out of 5.

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I'm happy to report that I signed a contract for the publication of the sequel to Accidental Pirates - look for it in September (the best of all possible months).

I've also sent in another story featuring my three French cavalry officers and the mysteries of Egypt for consideration in an upcoming anthology, and I've completed a super short story for a more specialized contest. I've got higher hopes after reading it than I did before I wrote it--thanks in no small part to the reaction I received of one of my proofreaders. 

A third book in the Accidental Pirates series and another short story are the current works in progress.
 

  

 

Ford v. Ferrari

 Showing without telling:

When I was in grade school, we sometimes had show and tell. Somebody would have something cool to show, a new toy or a fossil or a new puppy, and they would show us the cool new thing and talk about it. Some of us never had anything cool to show, but we did have an experience to share. I'm reminded of the time I told the story about getting cow manure in my mouth but blew the ending when in my excitement I said "on my foot" instead of "in my mouth" and thus didn't get the response I was expecting. Anyway, it's a short and not-all-that-entertaining-tale, but I still remember the taste. My point, if I had one, was that now we're told over and over "Show. Don't tell."

I'm firmly committed to doing whichever one I want. No one is the boss of me. Seriously, I think it's better to show than tell, most of the time. However, if that show takes three chapters, three pages, or three paragraphs of boring details or otherwise uninteresting minutiae, just tell me; spare me the boredom. I say, "Show me the good stuff. Tell me the condensed version of the boring stuff, and then only if the story requires it." That was a longer explanation than I anticipated--and it was all telling with no show.

Let me tell you how Ford v. Ferrari showed rather than told. I watched the movie in short chunks over three different days. It's. Totally. Awesome. I've seen it a few times before and get angrier at the Ford VP of Obnoxious Nincompoopery who kept Ken Miles out of the first race and fraudulently stole the title from him in the final race. That's not my point. I do love the movie. At it's heart, it's a great tale of the relationship between Carrol Shelby and Ken Miles as they strive to win a Grand Prix title for Ford, in spite of everything Ford and his malevolent toady do to hinder them. 

There's a scene after Miles has been denied the chance to race in the Grand Prix after doing all the testing and providing the technical advance to perfect the car when Shelby comes to ask him to come back to the team and do it again. Miles takes the request poorly and they fight, with Miles dropping his bag of groceries. As viewers, we don't know how serious these two are in their attempt to hurt each other. However, it all becomes clear when Shelby is on the ground with Miles on his back; Shelby grabs a stray can of food with which to strike Miles in the head, but drops it when he realizes the kind of damage it could do and instead begins walloping Miles with a bag of bread. It was brilliant. That one small act demonstrated the relationship and the terms of the fight. It was showing, not telling. It didn't take a long explanation (like the description I just gave) or require the viewer to interpret motivations based on the intersectionality and relative victimhood of the characters. It was straight forward and subtle. The detail could easily have been missed. Masterful.

If you haven't seen the 2019 movie directed by James Mangold, I insist that you do so at your earliest convenience. It's on Prime.

If you're interested in more bloviating about writing, check out: 

Part II of my substack post on Forging Unforgettable Stories 

 

The Trauma The Drama and The Dream

 I'm trying something different today.

Today's post can be found on my substack. Check it out.

 

Justice Resurgent

  

I don't know why this book came to mind today. Maybe I've still got the Five Card Stud movie on my mind. I know the theme song comes into my head a couple times per day. Whatever the reason, I opened Justice Resurgent, the sequel to Justice in Season, and reviewed the first chapter. The excerpts below don't do the chapter justice (no pun intended) but I think they do provide a peek at the initial trauma set up for my Trama, Drama, and Dream theory/system for creating memorable stories. Sheriff Upton has gathered a posse to make a surprise visit to our hero, McBride, and the other members of the vigilance committee. Harmony Rivers has discovered the corrupt sheriff's plan and needs to warn McBride.

 Excerpts from Justice Resurgent, Chapter One:

Harmony Rivers, from behind the open door of her balcony overlooking the street, watched them ride out. Although she would not be performing until the evening, she had pulled her red tresses back and had placed a cap with a white feather on her head. Her matching dress of blue and white failed to conceal the figure that sparked fires of desire in the hearts of men. She hurried from her room to the top of the stairs. She looked over the saloon, searching for the right man to carry out the mission she had in mind. Most of The tables were vacant. The men at the bar didn’t seem to have the qualities that she sought—those qualities being pliant yet dependable. Quickly, she decided to place her bet at a table where three officers from the Boise Barracks...

Howard, a local freighter, leaned forward, a shock of brown hair dropping to the edge of his left eye. “I can understand why the Sheriff has his ire up. McBride has ruined several of his enterprises by what I hear. I know for a fact that the sheriff lost some kind of bet with McBride in that horserace that killed Fool’s Gold.” 

“Lost the sheriff a tavern and a carriage is the way I heard it,” put in Jones, the other civilian. Jones, who ran the sutler’s store at the end of Main Street, held a mug of beer in a hand that lacked a ring finger from the first knuckle up. 

Harmony clasped her hands together. “Yes, yes. That’s all true. What are you men going to do about it?” 

...

"Where could we find such a courageous man?” The emphasis of those last two words reached out like an inviting hand. Howard brushed back the shock of hair from beside his eye and he lost himself for a moment in the look of silent supplication Harmony cast his way. “I’ll take that horse, Mr. Quartermaster. Take me to your stable.” 

...

“I guess you could say that.” Howard took the cup of coffee and warmed both hands against the sides of the tin cup. “The sheriff has a bundle of warrants for all of the vigilante committee. He aims to take you all in your beds tonight and figures at least one of you will be killed while resisting.” 

With this last statement he cast a glance at McBride through the lock of hair over his eye. 

“Meaning me, I suppose.” 

“I suppose,” Howard nodded. 

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I really like this opening chapter. The trauma, the conflict, and the tension are put in motion. We see (even if we haven't read the first book) that Upton and McBride are going to be at odds in the story. We see that Harmony is an ally persuasive enough to get a man with no dog in the fight to do her bidding to help McBride. The two forces are set in motion like trains heading toward each other on the same track. Will the sheriff take McBride or the other vigilantes, or will McBride be able to stymie the sheriff's nefarious scheme?

Naturally, the drama plays out with lots of adhesive tension and the stakes continue to rise up until the thrilling conclusion punctuated in blood and bullets. There's a reason that this book has more reviews than any other novel I've written. There are plenty of skirmishes leading up the the final showdown, so it's NOT a slow burn story. Detective work, romance, and gun play all combine to escalate and intensify the conflict. 

The characters are memorable; we know on which side of the good versus evil equation they fall. The hats aren't black and white, but the moral character is. I'll have to use them to illustrate my theories on crafting characters in another post.