Errol Flynn: The Life and Career
comprehensive and fascinating look at Hollywood's legendary swashbuckler.
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To moviegoers Errol Flynn will always be Robin Hood striding defiantly
into Nottingham Castle with a deer slung across his shoulders, a proud rebel
with the audacity to question authority. On the screen he thrilled us as
a pirate captain dueling with the ease and grace of a dancer, a mischievous
smile playing on his lips.
He radiated the confidence of a man who knows
he cannot lose. There was a sense of defiance about him. He conveyed these
things with a faint smile, by the confident way he stood, the expressively
cocked eyebrow, or the knowing glint in his eye. Perhaps he was so convincing
in his heroic roles because he could, in fact, imagine himself as Robin
Hood and Peter Blood and Geoffrey Thorpe – and there was a world-weary wistfulness
in his performance as Don Juan that was more than convincing – that
was Flynn.
(p. 1)
Of the many ironies and allegories in the tapestry of his life, perhaps
none are more poignant than his desire to travel the seas. When the make-believe
dramas had been completed, he left the soundstages to follow his yearning
for adventure. This he found with his mistresses and drinking buddies, but
never more so than when he was at the helm of a ship, holding a steady course
and cutting a path across the sea.
(p. 114)
Flynn's film career certainly evokes admiration – he was the
ultimate hero; but as we explore his life we often find ourselves dismayed,
perhaps even horrified, by his all too human weaknesses.
(p. 169)
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A 1944 feature in Screen Stars magazine described him as the "Master
of Mulholland Farm," and so he was. From his hilltop kingdom he could
look down past Mulholland Drive where the distant glow of a wandering hobo's
campfire might catch his eye. The San Fernando Valley was alive with twinkling
lights but in the foothills around his house small deer still lingered among
the bougainvillea. Sometimes coyotes would lope out of the mesquite. His
farm was rife with the voices of peacocks and chickens, the whinny of horses
in the stables, and always a dog barking here and there at moving shadows.
He surely felt his place in Hollywood history without caring for it. The
public wanted him always as the gallant, Arthurian figure with a ready lance
to fell his enemies. The fact that he was a hero to millions could never
fill the void he felt upon waking each day. Nor could the pursuit of women,
the drink, or even the drugs. Errol Flynn in 1945 was condemned to be a
loner surrounded by people who ultimately cared little for his well being.
He was more like a latter-day Gatsby, staring out at a blinking light that
represented everything he desired; that distant beacon a constant reminder
that he had tipped his lance too low, and the contest could not be won.
(p. 191-192)
The entertainer, the showman, the writer – that was Flynn's
artistic signature. His purpose was to create: to write novels, to act out
heroic roles, to tell stories, to sail the seas, to explore the world, to
fabricate a legend about himself that was filled with both truths and lies.
Flynn was an outsider, a trickster, a jester, and a raconteur.
(p. 231)
Here was a man who could be deeply moved by a simple painting of a father
and his child. Gazing upon Gauguin's South Seas paintings he could
appreciate the lightning flashes in the sky above the rolling sea and the
gentle simplicity of family life among the palm fronds; and he understood
the creative effort it required to render such beauty into oil on canvas.
As a writer he was diligent in maintaining a journal and recorded astute
observations and philosophical musings – and the torments of his soul. He
was an astute observer with a remarkable eye for detail.
(p. 231)
In considering Flynn the man, and to do him justice, it is useful to examine
those facets of his life that keep so many people interested in him: his
romanticism, his gallantry, his individualism, his search for contentment,
and his rebelliousness. His picaresque life as a sailor on the seas of fate;
his ability to find adventure amidst the mediocrity of daily life; his courage
in facing his adversaries, both on and off the screen, all make for an intriguing
portrait of a man who lived life to the fullest.
(p. 297)
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