In the nineteen-thirties and early nineteen-forties Errol Flynn was a lithe, magnetic romantic lead, but as the forties went on his reputation was tarnished by a statutory rape trial, drug abuse, rampant alcoholism, running after women, and other sordid activities. By the nineteen-fifties hard living was catching up to him, plus his finances and his health were failing, but Flynn still managed to make movies such as 1957’s The Big Boodle. Whether or not these movies were successful is a different story.
Ned Sherwood (Errol Flynn) is a blackjack dealer in Havana who is handed some counterfeit money by a beautiful woman, and when he confronts her about it, she won’t take it back, so he’s basically stuck with it.
On the way home, Ned is jumped and beaten up by some guys he doesn’t know, but when the police come he finds that he’s the one who’s under suspicion. The police want to know about his background, what he did before he came to Cuba, had he ever been a blackjack dealer before, and so on. The Chief of Cuba’s National Police, Colonel Guillermo Mastegui (Pedro Armendáriz) also threatens him: If Ned goes back to America, he might do time because he was one of gangster Blackie Thornton’s men, but if he stays in Cuba he might do time for possession of counterfeit money. All Ned has to do is decide which penalty he’d rather pay.
When Ned gets home after spending the night in jail, he finds two random guys in his apartment, one of whom owns the plates the counterfeit money was printed on. Since this woman was able to produce money from these plates, that means this guy’s copyright has been violated. Unless Ned can find out who’s printing money from the plates, he’s in for a bad time.
Ned is caught between a rock and a hard place. On one hand he needs to find the counterfeiters for the police, but on the other hand he needs to find the missing plates for the counterfeiters, and honestly, he’s not too keen on doing the police’s job for them. They’re not keen on doing their job, either, unless Ned gets killed, and then they’ll go in with guns blazing. In the meantime, Mastegui will indulge in his favorite sport, jai alai.
With that small comfort in tow Ned gets thrust into an underworld of twists and turns and links and dead ends. The woman who gave him the counterfeit money at the casino, for instance? He hasn’t seen the last of her. He’s got some ideas as to how to smoke out the counterfeiters as well, if only Mastegui will give him twenty-four hours to do it his way.
The Big Boodle was filmed almost entirely in Havana, Cuba, right before Castro took over and used real locations, including interiors, which must have been a nightmare for the sound people as there’s a very pronounced echo in a lot of scenes. Castillo del Morro is also prominently featured, and the distinct absence of guests means they probably closed it off for tours during filming. The trade papers affably noted that by filming in Cuba, the overall costs of the film were kept to an economical six hundred thousand dollars.
This movie can be painful to watch, especially for anyone who’s familiar with Flynn’s earlier work. It’s almost an insult that his character’s last name is “Sherwood,” given that he had played Robin Hood not twenty years before, and it’s both sad and ironic every time he says his character’s full name.
The story itself, which was based on a Robert Sylvester novel of the same name, isn’t bad, although it gets a little confusing and the logic is a bit spotty; namely, there’s no way the goons who jump Ned in the beginning of the movie could have known that quickly who he was, where he lived and that he had received counterfeit money, unless it was a setup and they had been watching him.
From an acting standpoint the film probably would have been better with a slightly younger actor, or at least someone in better shape. Errol Flynn was forty-eight and clearly ailing, so there’s a lack of energy to a lot of the action. Sometimes it seems as if Flynn is doing all he can to just keep standing and moving. Or breathing, for that matter. I thought I saw Flynn laboring to take a full lungful of air in several scenes, and he seemed clearly agitated, squeezing his right fist together as if he’s trying to hold on.
The filmmakers tried their best to accomodate their leading man. There are even fight scenes that take place behind couches or the faces of the actors are obscured so that it’s hard to tell who’s winning. The only time we ever see Flynn running in the movie, he’s running downhill. The rest of the time, he jogs or takes big strides.
Still, Flynn’s deterioration was impossible to hide. Variety called The Big Boodle a “fair whodunit” and said, “Flynn acquits himself in okay fashion.” Motion Picture Herald opined, “The acting is average, the plot is adequate and should please most meller fans if they can outwait a few slow spots.” Film Bulletin called the movie “sombre,” after noting that Flynn brought “some marquez value.”
Unfortunately, prestige wasn’t enough, and The Big Boodle made a paltry $1.4 million at the box office. It must have been disappointing to Flynn, who owned a twenty-five percent interest. The film seems to be largely forgotten today, and that’s probably a good thing. For my part, I found myself thinking wistfully of Errol Flynn’s younger days, when he seemed to fly around a set and nothing could pin him down.
Coming up in May (click on the images for more info)…
Yep, things are definitely busy, and yep, I’m hosting two of these blogathons. Plus it’s the last month of my son’s junior year of high school, plus there’s a lot of Substack stuff happening, plus there’s a lot of other personal stuff happening, but what else is new? It’s all good, though–one thing at a time.
Speaking of which, my post for Crystal’s Agnes Moorehead Blogathon will be up tomorrow. Thanks for reading, all, and I hope to see you then…
The Big Boodle is available on DVD from Amazon, and is free to stream for Prime customers.
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