Saturday, 18 July 2020

Around the World in Eighty Days (1955)

Ironic, and yet perhaps appropriate, at the time of writing when the world is in shutdown from a pandemic, to cover a film that crosses the globe; appropriate because it allows audiences the experience of travelling the world, of a kind, from the benefit of their own cinema seat - or now their sofa at home on video.


"It's a wonderful world, if you'll only take the time to go around it!"


For the ultimate enduring success of the epic, we owe it to three principal gentlemen: firstly to its showmanlike New York producer Mike Todd - with a little creative inspiration from Jules Verne (who duly "drops" his book down from the heavens in Saul Bass's amusing title sequence): the novel is a fast-paced adventure yarn about a stuffy, enigmatic member of the London Reform Club, Phileas Fogg (very much the stereotypical English gentleman from a French perspective), who is suddenly dared into travelling around the world in 80 days - as boasted by modern transport in 1872. Fogg's sudden decision comes to the equal surprise of his new French manservant Passepartout, only recently thrust into the job after a visit to the London Employment Exchange to fill the new position of a "gentleman's gentleman."

This scene of Passepartout's recruitment is among the first of many witty vignettes which pepper throughout the film in between its epic journeys by road, rail, sea, and (via cinematic invention) by air, in a balloon.

No less a person than John Gielgud is the unfortunate predecessor to Passepartout's role, driven to distraction by Fogg's fastidiousness in requiring baths to be specific sizes, and his toast to be cooked at 23 degrees, no more, no less. "Extraordinary, how does one measure the temperature of toast?", asks Gielgud's employer, played by Noel Coward!

Coward was Todd's big catch: regarded then (and still now) as "The Master" of British theatre, he proved to be the hook that managed to get most of the British supporting cast into the film: Gielgud, and many others. That, together with Todd's own charm and dogged persuasiveness (and probably some form of lucrative reward for the actors), he managed to entice no less than 44 guest stars into the film, in "cameo" roles (an expression coined by Todd himself), and a suitable cosmopolitan bunch for a cinematic journey round the world - even if most of the cameos had a slight Hollywood bent.

Charles Boyer was among the 44 guest stars lured by Michael's Todd's money (and Phileas Fogg's)

The second key gentleman next to Todd himself, was his Passepartout in the form of the charismatic David Niven as Phileas Fogg. Niven was baying for the role, and he seems a natural choice today, but back in the 1950s he only occasionally merited leading man status. Samuel Goldwyn was once at pains in the 1940s to make him a new Hollywood leading man in the mould of Ronald Colman (who has a cameo in this film), but the stronger calling of duty to his country brought Niven back to Britain during World War II.

After the war his career consolidated but never took off. Around the World in Eighty Days was a grand showcase, for all the many players, of whom Niven was the most frequently seen throughout the film. The role surmises all his suave gentlemen he ever played, with an added flavour of English punctiliousness.

The third key and largely overlooked key figure in the success of Around the World in Eighty Days was the unassuming figure of director Michael Anderson. A production assistant and also brief actor (sparring once with John Mills in In Which We Serve), his film career prospered with The Dam Busters in 1954, now considered a classic (in spite of its naive special effects), and it impressed Michael Todd enough to replace original director John Farrow with Anderson - who, unlike Farrow, quickly accepted who the real boss of 80 Days was. This also however allowed Anderson to work with the key core of the movie, namely, the principal four participants on the long journey - Fogg, Passepartout, the princess (a miscast but pleasant Shirley MacLaine), and Inspector Fix (a gorgeous swansong by Robert Newton).


30 years after The General, Buster Keaton is still busy on the railways

I read the book first: the film is a surprisingly faithful adaptation, particularly in its depiction of London and of the novel's sudden twist ending. Television, being what it was in those days, could give only limited scope to the breadth of Todd's original epic. A video release restricted the picture to pan-and-scan square ratios, but commendably much of the humour still comes through. It took its time for widescreen TV to give the broad perspective of the Todd-AO canvas - and now in disc form, comes the film in as much of the original 1950s presentation style as could be presented.

It is very much a product of an era when movies were made primarily to entertain, and for the audience to have good time - in many ways, a form of cinematic circus, with lots of guests artistes, thrills and spills and laughs on the way. Other all-star adventures duly came along in its wake, such as Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying MachinesIt's a Mad Mad Mad Mad Mad World, Monte Carlo or Bust, The Great Race, and others - until movies felt the need to grow up and offer less fluffy spectacle.


Around the World in Eighty Days had its exclusive London run in 1957 at the Astoria in Charing Cross Road 

100 Favourite Films

100 Favourite Films