I used to fence -- although how I managed to fence after having had polio at the age of two is much too long a story to get into here, nevertheless, I was able to fence in competition with able-bodied fencers -- and spurred by my interest in the art of swordsmanship, I learned a lot about historical swords and the techniques of handling them.

Movies! Oy Vey!

In the movie "Excaliber," yet another King Arthur epic, the armor worn is circa sixteenth century. I had to keep saying to myself, "Lighten up! This is supposed to be a fantasy!"

In the 1952 "Ivanhoe," with Robert Taylor and Elizabeth Taylor, the chain-mail armor worn was authentic for the period, and in the final Trial by Combat, the weapons (battle ax and mace-and-chain) were authentic, as were the techniques that Robert Taylor and George Saunders used. A rare occurrence. Subsequent film versions of "Ivanhoe" haven't done nearly as well.

What causeth me to wail, moan, and rend my garments is when a couple of guys in a period movie go at each other with heavy, armor-hacking broadswords and they parry with them. The actors (if they carry shields at all) block about two blows with their shields, then throw them away and start handling the broadswords either like baseball bats or like modern Olympic fencers with light-weight fencing sabers (I've heard that sometimes the prop folks make the broadswords out of aluminum). No-no-no-no-no!!! Getting nicks on the cutting-edge of their swords was something that knights and such avoided like the plague. Once nicked, the blade could easily break at that point, which would be: a) damned embarrassing if it happened in the middle of a fight; and b) damned expensive to replace. Buying a good broadsword was about as expensive in those days as buying a new automobile is now (peasants carrying broadswords just didn't happen -- sorry). Using the sword itself to block blows and to parry with wasn't developed until around the early seventeenth century, when thrusting with the point was seen as more deadly than cutting with the edge. Until then, they relied on shields for defense. When firearms made armor obsolete and the sword became lighter, eventually evolving into the rapier (a primarily thrusting weapon), defense was relegated to a small shield called a "buckler," or a fairly long "main gauche" dagger with a hand-guard, held in the left hand. (The term "swashbuckler" came from bellicose types who would walk with a swagger, causing their sword and buckler -- usually hung on their left sides -- to clatter together, indicating that if anybody wanted to give them any crap, they were ready for a fight).

The 1940 movie, "The Mark of Zorro," with Tyrone Power and Basil Rathbone was anything but authentic in that the weapons used were modern, light-weight fencing sabers (you could buy them out of a fencing equipment catalog) and the technique that Power and Rathbone used was the modern Hungarian-Italian style used by most Olympic saber fencers in the 1920s and '30s (the period portrayed was early eighteen-hundreds in California). But, as far as I am concerned, it had, by far, the best duel scene I have ever seen in any movie. Unlike Errol Flynn, who had a lot of verve, but he was strictly a movie fencer, both Power and Rathbone had done some competitive fencing, both were really good swordsmen (especially Rathbone) and, other than the usual slipping on rugs and tripping over the furniture, they went at it hammer-and-tongs, and their form and technique was really good. When the swordplay is that good, I can forgive a few anachronisms.

"The Duellists" (1977, with Keith Carradine and Harvey Keitel) probably had the most realistic duel scenes of any movie I've seen. Two guys circling each other like cats, suddenly rushing in for a couple of frantic jabs, then scurrying out again, obviously scared spitless!

But my favorite (non-fencing) movie howler of all time occurred in a Forties movie called "Destination Tokyo" with Cary Grant. American submarine slips into Tokyo bay and lands a group of guys with a radio on the beach to guide Doolittle's B-25s in to bomb Tokyo. The Japanese pick up the radio signal, locate its source, and send several truckloads of troops out to do mayhem. Big suspense, developed by series of quick cuts between the radio crew on the beach and a shot of the front of one of the trucks speeding a bunch of Japanese soldiers toward the source of the signal. And then you see it! On the front of the Japanese army truck, there is a California license plate!

I saw the movie again about five years ago on TV (AMC channel, I think), and I guess someone else spotted it too, because they had cut the shots of the front of the truck.

Picky, picky, picky. . . .

Don Firth