The Saint Series

[The Ingenue]

This past week or so, Papa and I have been making our way through the series of Saint pictures lately shown on TCM. I had a particular curiosity about them, for these were the films airing on that day in November '07 when TCM first blinked and spluttered, and then came richly to life in my home. I caught only snatches of the films then; for, thrilled as I was about having TCM (at last!), I resisted being glued to the channel until 12 Angry Men and City for Conquest were shown that night. Thanks to TCM's run of the Saint films this July, I've now had to chance to see more than snatches.

RKO's Simon Templar series began with Louis Hayward as The Saint in New York (1938), and his portrayal of the title character fascinated me. We hear of him before seeing him, as various officials report his capacity for smashing opium rackets, smuggling rings, and subsequently the jails in which police tried to hold him for his valiant but illegal methods of operation. Then, he appears, charming and at ease--but his is calm like that of a cat ready to pounce. The challenge of outwitting, outmaneuvering both the villains and the police electrifies him; is a delicious and irresistible game to him, and he approaches it with cool command. What kind of a mind must The Saint have?

That thrilling sense of danger I feel with Hayward's Saint is gone when George Sanders takes over the role, which could just be due to my personal preference for sensitivity over ultra sophistication, and thus for one actor over the other. I've always found something touching and engaging about Hayward, in whatever role he's playing, and only one of Sanders's performances has affected me equally: his "Georges Duroy", who will make a rake's progress through the upper classes of Paris in The Private Affairs of Bel Ami (1947). In an early scene, while changing from evening clothes to pajamas, Duroy pauses, top-hatted, wearing his boldly striped undershirt, and looking for all the world like the ridiculous Punch puppet he had purchased that afternoon. The image ties him into the film's theme ("We are all no more than puppets unless we believe in God."), and we know Duroy, despite his ambition, is doomed to be just a puppet.

Sanders approaches the role of The Saint assuredly, as routinely and capably as an actor approaching the same kind of role for the umpteenth time--and that's not to say this is a bad thing. There's something comfortable and appealing in the knowledge that, 'He's got to come out all right because he's in the next picture.' And yet I liked the uncertainty about Hayward's Saint; there was always the feeling that he might just get plugged after all.

And so Sanders makes his way heroically through five pictures; and so does Wendy Barrie through three, each time as a different character; and Jonathan Hale as Inspector Fernack, now with brogue, now without. I feel like I'm watching the mechanics of the pictures rather than their stories, though The Saint in London (1939), where Sanders smoothly picks the pocket of the pickpocket who'd preyed upon him, is an exception. Then, a change of studio (RKO British Productions), and a change of Saint.

The Saint Meets the Tiger (1943) stars Hugh Sinclair. There's an different kind of debonair matter-of-factness about Sinclair's Saint, as if he believed any gentleman of a certain mental caliber would, of course, behave like Simon Templar. It's an enjoyable reversal in the character's makeup, but even with that in play, I found myself watching not Sinclair, but Wylie Watson as his comical-but-able butler (was the gun he toted big enough?) and Jean Gillie as the girl of this picture, Pat Holmes. A clever girl, she's not quite as infallible in her judgments as the Saint, but then even he can make a misstep. It was heartening to see her plunge into the acts which will unravel the criminals' web while appropriately dressed in flat shoes and slacks, unafraid of mussing her hair. Earlier in the film she had gone running glamorously about (as heroines often do) in high-heels and skirts, though at that point in the movie she couldn't help it (as in the case of Veronica Lake in This Gun for Hire (1942) who, having been abducted by Alan Ladd's Raven, must crawl through a drain pipe without having had time to change into proper drain-pipe-crawling clothes.)

One of the things I liked best about the series is The Saint's determination to bid each heroine farewell in the end. No "happily ever after" with this one and then--wait a minute--he's got a new one now, as always seemed to happen with Ann Sothern and her leading men in MGM's Maisie series (and since we were always rooting for Maisie's happy ending, it was discouraging to see her alone again at the start of the next film). I'd rather hoped The Saint would hang on to Jean Gillie, though. Perhaps he would have, if there had been another picture. And if there had been, I'd love to have seen Richard Greene as The Saint.

[Ollie]

I've only seen the one Hayward film and he "didn't do it for me" personally. I much preferred the Sanders films, on the whole, but I think there are some fairly lame entries in there. I like the Saint character to be large enough to duke it out, in a clutch, and Hayward (like Pierce Brosnan as Bond) never appeared that capable. (Brosnan's suffers from his accidental knock-downs by secretary Doris Roberts in REMINGTON STEELE. There's just NO WAY Bond ever gets decked by a 50-ish secretary, although I suspect Lois Maxwell coulda delivered some face-ringing slaps to any of 'em.)

The Hugh Sinclair film made me rethink my lower assessment of Hayward - I didn't care for Sinclair's films exactly, but on re-watching his two, I realized those might be in the top half of my favorite Saint films. So it occurs to me that I might like him, and therefore the slight Hayward, if the films were better. My lack of affection for Hayward's efforts could be, in fact, a lesser film, which wouldn't be uncommon for a 'first out of the gate' effort.

[The Ingenue]

Was there another Saint picture with Hugh Sinclair? Gracious, there was indeed. I'm looking at www.saint.org, and they list The Saint's Vacation (1941), starring Sinclair and Sally Gray--a film TCM omitted from their Saint lineup. Oh, and look! Two more Saint films with Louis Hayward: The Saint's Return (1953) and The Saint's Girl Friday (1954). Wonder if I can get hold of those....

I can see what you mean, Ollie, about preferring a sizable Saint. Funny, I never noticed the actors' physical statures while viewing the the films; I was watching their minds, rather, and their personalities. Granted, The Saint in New York ain't the strongest film of the lot; but even in a so-so film, Hayward's Saint struck me as a stunning and powerful presence. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Sanders' Simon Templar seemed the unconquerable hero bound to save the day. (And maybe that's the very thing you like about him?) But Hayward 's Saint was a man of incredible cunning. He was ruthless--sometimes shockingly so--and quick. Hayward's approach to the role made me realize what a dangerous game The Saint is playing. And to me, the idea that the game may be lost (and not because this is a game of brawn, but one of wit) made its play all the more thrilling.

[Ollie]

The SIZE MATTERS Issue... I think this comes from either reading books and imagining a character's physical prowess based on descriptions or, in the case of The Bonds, seeing a Large One first and then gradually sublimating those expectations 'down' to accepted an occasional judo chop from Roger Moore as sufficient. This remains of my criticisms of the Moore films - he just about never rolled up his fist and bashed someone, although he's large enough to have done it. Same with his SAINT entries, though - maybe he had a contract clause. (And I can hear Groucho and Chico going at it - "Didn't like that clause either...")

Hayward had one aspect that wasn't repeated - he was vicious, with a mean-streak for any vendetta he undertook. He always seemed ready to create a lot of pain for someone, either in retribution or to get the information he wanted. That is always a startling and interesting aspect he brings.

Sanders is placed in many favorite films and I may suffer from a Pavlovian gift towards him as The Saint - "in so many favorite films, and now I donate fave-status to him, too" - regardless of any other actual factor or reason! For example, my favorite-ever Sanders 'scene' is the ship-to-shore radio-phone call made between McRae and his editor-boss, where Saunders innocently fills in every tidbit, asks every leading question, always with that perfect, coy vs. smarmy charm of his. '

After seeing that film dozens of times, that's the scene that is distilled for me, and during his various SAINT incarnations, I keep seeing shades of that same coy innocence, leading the dastardly ones to some Saintly trap. Even in PALM SPRINGS' eye-rolling climax, I see that same ploy. (Boy, if I didn't like that, I'd probably hate Sanders.)

Hugh Sinclair could have probably enjoyed a longer career doing more Saint projects. I can't tell if those two I've seen suffer from his newness, or newness of that crew or what - there are interesting moments in all but they may remain Less Than Top only because Hugh's there instead of my hoped-for Sanders.

This is my Rathbone-Holmes Syndrome all over again. If I can tolerate starting a non-Rathbone Sherlock tale, I invariably like them but I so seldom 'get in that mood' to be tolerant.

[The Ingenue]

This is my Rathbone-Holmes Syndrome all over again. If I can tolerate starting a non-Rathbone Sherlock tale, I invariably like them but I so seldom 'get in that mood' to be tolerant.

Ha! I know how that goes, Ollie! That may be the very sort of thing that made me less enthusiastic over Sanders' Saint. I started with Hayward and, being so impressed by him, wasn't ready for Sanders' differently shaded portrayal of the character. I'm thinking I might have to re-watch a few of the Sanders Saint entries...