Son of Flynn: Fatefully Following in the Footsteps of a Swashbuckling, Hellraising Legendary Father

Biographical, Cinema, Popular Culture
Errol Flynn (Source: New York Post)

Film star Errol Flynn was a larger than life character of mythic proportions, on-screen he was an authentic Hollywood legend. But his attention-getting off-screen personal life embellished his aura of notoriety and fame even more than the many Hollywood adventure film roles he played. On the silver screen Flynn embodied the heroic, swashbuckling celluloid figurepar excellence as Robin Hood, Captain Blood, Don Juan, General George Armstrong Custer, Gentleman Jim Corbett and Major Geoffrey Vickers, just some of his many celebrated roles. In his private life—most of it though was pretty public—the rebellious Tasmanian had a legendary playboy reputation for debauched behaviour and manoeuvrable morality…excessive drinking, brawling, drug-taking, wild partying, famously prodigious sexual exploits and a proclivity for underage girls culminating in rape trials. But even before his Hollywood period Flynn’s episodic life in New Guinea and New Britain was an incident-packed cavalcade of adventures that wouldn’t have been out of place in an Indiana Jones movie. Young Errol clearly had a compulsion to try different things, bouncing from one knockabout job to another – shipping clerk to tobacco planter to colonial agent to would-be gold prospector to tour guide, etc. During all this Errol escaped crocodiles and native headhunters, womanised indiscriminately, shot and killed a local for which he was tried for murder and subsequently acquitted. Damningly as well, Flynn was also an absconding serial debtor, an inveterate liar and an alleged slave-trader.

Father & son together

So, given Flynn’s Brobdingnagian reputation, any offspring of his, especially a male, would have a lot to live up to. Flynn’s three marriages produced only one male heir, Sean, born in 1941 to Flynn and his first wife Lili Damita. Almost inevitably as fate would decree it Sean Flynn, 6’ 3”, with a similar athletic build and inheriting Errol’s good looks, did attempt to follow in his far from model pater’s footsteps. Sean got an initial taste of acting in his teens appearing in Flynn Senior’s TV show The Errol Flynn Theatre𝕒. Sean inherited a small sum when his father died suddenly in 1959 and with it enrolled at Duke University but did not complete his degree. The beckoning call from Hollywood or “imitation” Hollywood was not far away.

Son of Errol

The Son of Captain Blood
In 1961 the highly predictable happened! Sean was cast as the swashbuckling lead in a sequel of sorts to his dad’s spectacular breakthrough role in Captain Blood which had catapulted Errol into instant, universal stardom in 1935. Son of Captain Blood, an Italian–Spanish–British co-production (with some of the action scenes shot in Spain). The script was penned by Casey Robinson, writer of the original 1935 film. Prior to production the neophyte Sean received instruction in how to fence, fight and fall safely and convincingly on screen from Tarzan actor and stuntman Jock Mahoney𝕓 (Gene Freese, Jock Mahoney: The Life and Films of a Hollywood Stuntman (2013). Unfortunately Sean’s foray into cinematic pirate territory didn’t reproduce the family sparks – as the LA Times pithily summarised the movie, “the old magic isn’t there.”

Sean with Pili…or is it Mili? (Source: briansdriveintheater.com)

Ephemeral B-movie star
Though Sean failed to set the screen alight in The Son of Captain Blood he did make a few more minor adventure films in Europe the mid-1960s, such as Duel at the Río Grande (as Zorro), followed by a couple of forgettable Spaghetti Westerns, the second playing opposite a popular Spanish teenage comic duo, Pili y Mili, AKA the Bayona Sisters (Sharp-Shooting Twin Sisters).

The last photo of Sean Flynn (left) & colleague on the day they disappeared (Photo: Perry Deane Smith/MCT/Tribune News Service via Getty Images)

Frontline Flynn, the Gonzo war photographer
When Flynn Junior became bored with acting, perhaps channeling Hemingway more than his father, he took himself off to Africa to work as a guide for safaris and big game hunting. Sean’s final movie was a 1967 French–Italian action picture Five Ashore in Singapore. By this time Sean had taken up a new career as a freelance photojournalist, basing himself in Vietnam with the Indochina war in full swing. This work was much riskier than anything Errol ever tackled in his tumultuous life…Sean went on patrols with the Green Berets, getting shot at by the Viet Cong (being wounded on one occasion), all in the name of getting the best pictures of the raging war𝕔. In 1970 Flynn went to Cambodia to cover the spread of the Vietnam War into that neighbouring country. Sean and another American photojournalist disappeared on 6th April 1970, never seen again, after they ventured into Communist-held territory in Cambodia. In 1984 Flynn was declared dead in absentia, his exact fate remains a mystery but most think that the two Americans were executed by either North Vietnamese guerrillas or the Khmer Rouge.

Sean Flynn on patrol (Photo: Tim Page)

Sean’s willingness to repeatedly put himself in the path of extreme danger in the Vietnam conflict led some observers to conclude that the combat photographer harboured a “death wish”. Certainly, Sean seemed to have inherited Errol’s reckless gene, always looking to push the envelope without regard for self. Both father and son seemed to be guided during their lives by a Byronic impulse, their lives inextricably linked to the romantic and the tragic (Jeffrey Meyers, Inherited Risk: Errol and Sean Flynn in Hollywood and Vietnam (2002).

𒈝𒈝𒈝𒈝𒈝𒈝𒈝𒈝

𝕒 hosting this British anthology series was one of the jobs the former matinee idol had to resort to after his Hollywood film career took a nose dive

𝕓 who had earlier stunt-doubled for the older Flynn

𝕔 Flynn was one of a group of Vietnam War “Gonzo” photographers including Tim Page and John Steinbeck IV who were committed to going anywhere, putting themselves into extreme risk situations to get the best combat photos

The All-American Adolescent according to Two Hollywood Studios: Hardy Vs Aldrich

Cinema, Performing arts, Popular Culture

When I was a kid growing up in the 1950s and 60s I was exposed, like everyone else, to saturation levels of US commercial television. Faced with the novelty of a new and revolutionary form of home entertainment, I clocked up the viewing hours big time, thousands and thousands of hours glued to the “idiot box”. Eventually through trial and (a lot of) error I decided what my favourite American programs were, a few gems among the preponderance of TV dross and mediocrity.

Back then I was particularly fond of old black-and-white movies on TV (until 1975 all Australian television was in black-and-white!). Drilling down even deeper, 1940s and 50’s movie serials were highest on the totem of my juvenile television tastes. I lapped up countless viewings (and re-viewings) of the like of Ma and Pa Kettle, Blondie, Batman, Tarzan, Bowery Boys/Dead End Kids, to barely scratch the surface of my childhood obsession.

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As an Antipodean-based “honorary American boy”, a lot of my vicarious existence was channelled through Hollywood’s projection of the typical American teenage boy. MGM had Andy Hardy (played by that pint-sized bundle of non-stop energy, Mickey Rooney), whilst over at Paramount, the studio eventually tried to counter Andy’s popularity with Henry Aldrich (portrayed initially and briefly by the over-saccharine Jackie Cooper, but universally associated with the perpetually perplexed-looking Jimmy Lydon).

The premise of both these American equivalents to the British “Boys Own” adolescent rites of passage story was the same: the point of the exercise was that both get hare-brained schemes which invariably land them in trouble of some kind, and through a series of comical twists and turns they get out of the predicament by the film’s end…both “got into jams, had romantic vexations, and mischievously interfered in the lives of their older brothers and sisters”, with consequences all of which were at worse ephemeral[1]. The screen rival teenagers Andy and Henry were both likeable even if their screen personalities occasionally irritated you.

Hardy and Aldrich each had his own distinctive and characteristic expressions, these verbal calling cards were often reiterated throughout each movie…Andy Hardy, when in ebullient mood, would chirpily respond to Polly Benedict or to another of his many, simultaneous love interests with “You said it, toots!” Henry Aldrich is universally remembered for the opening exchange with his mother who bellows: “Hen-reeeeeeeeeeeee! Hen-ree Al-drich!”, to which Henry from upstairs would haltingly and tremulously reply, “Com-ing, Mother!”

Once I latched on to Paramount’s counterpoint to the Hardys, the Aldriches, I quickly developed a preference for the new kid on the Hollywood block Henry Aldrich over Andy Hardy. The longer the Andy Hardy/Family sequence went, the more it seemed to wallow in “Gee mum'” sentimentality, with a touch of smug bourgeois self-satisfaction. Andy came from a distinctively middle class American family (his father was a court judge, as the good-intentioned Andy himself aspired to and eventually realised)…Henry seemed more to reside in the world of the working class family, not exactly down-at-heel, but hardly flush with affluence. The Henry movies were a bit more gritty, more down-to-earth and lacking the romanticised and soppy wholesomeness of the Hardy Family sagas.

The first Andy Hardy film was released in 1937, A Family Affair with 15 more following within a decade, plus a less successful ‘reunion’ film in 1958 focusing on Andy’s return, full circle, to Carvel to take up his father’s old judicial post. The character of Henry Aldrich first surfaced in a Broadway play What a Life in 1938 (playwright: Clifford Goldsmith)…from there in span off into fourteen years of very popular radio (1939-53), four years of television (1949-53), a series of ten movies, and an uncountable number of comic books, musical scores, pin-ups, games, and toys.

The lower-budgeted Aldrich movies (11 in all) never reached anywhere near the lofty heights of the Hardy films, neither in the returns from the box office or in the esteem of cinema critics✳. Henry Aldrich movies were either ignored by critics or dismissed as inferior B-movies, merely larks and juvenile fun…contrasting sharply with the symbolic status afforded the Hardy series by MGM, the cinematic embodiment of the “Stars and Stripes”, of “America”[2].

Jeffrey Dennis notes how the respective imaginary ‘worlds’ Andy and Henry inhabit sit poles apart. Carvel, the Hardy home town supposedly in small town Idaho, is comfortably ensconced in Middle American suburbia, a peaceful and harmonious realm in which the war (WWII) does not enter. Carvel and the Hardys represent an idyllic family lifestyle, with the films’ message a somewhat preachy reinforcement of solid and wholesome American values[3]. Against the stark realities of the Depression and the drift into global war, fictional Carvel offered the American public a chance to indulge in “feel-good” escapist diversions.

Henry’s home town Centerville, by contrast (located in an unidentified state) is a more grim, dark and even foreboding setting. Reminders of the war constantly swirl around the world of Henry and the Aldrich family and that of he and his best pal Dizzy (in the form of war bonds, war relief funds, rationing, air-raid drills)[4].’

Both boys regularly get themselves embroiled in injudicious teenage troubles but Henry Aldrich’s conundrums have the more serious consequences…whilst Andy at his incautious worse may be “fined for driving without a licence, but Henry is threatened with prison, juvenile hall, and a mental asylum”[5]. And Hardy’s often foolish escapades, unlike Aldrich’s, never amount to life-threatening situations.

Aldrich (Lydon) with his buddy Dizzy (Charles Smith)

Critics have also drawn attention to differences in how each screen teenager viewed the perennial adolescent boy issue of “girl trouble”. Whilst the easily love-struck Andy Hardy was unequivocally a dedicated girl-chaser most of the time, Henry Aldrich expressed a more ambivalent attitude towards the fairer sex: “Wimmen – they bore me!”, Henry exclaims in Henry Aldrich Gets Glamour[6]. Teenage Henry is reticence or seemingly indifferent to girls, preferring to spend time messing about with best mate Dizzy. Rather than being a manifestation of latent homosexuality, Henry with his simplified approach to life, most of the time just finds girls too complicated, not worth all the fuss and bother.

American youth in the Andy Hardy and Henry Aldrich films were depicted humorously, often with affectionate nostalgia and occasionally condescendingly. At the same time, both series revolving round the comical misadventures of American teenage boys were a window on the beginnings of a distinct adolescent sub-culture[7], which would take further shape in the years following WWII with the “Rebel Without a Cause” youth generation.

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✳ in 1939 Mickey Rooney was the number one box office star in American films, a position he retained for the following three years, Source: ‘Top Box Office Stars: 1932-1939 (Part 1)’, (Classic Film Guru), https://classicfilmguru.wordpress.com/2013/08/08/the-box-office-stars-1932-to-1939-part-1/

[1] RJ Bresler, Us Vs Them: American Political and Cultural Conflict from WWII to Watergate (2000)
[2] JP Dennis, We Boys Together: Teenagers in Love Before Girl-craziness (2007)
[3] in 1943 the film series was awarded a special Oscar for “achievement in portraying the American way of life”, Timothy Shary, Teen Movies: American Youth on Screen” (2005)
[4] Dennis, op.cit.
[5] ibid.
[6] RB Armstrong & MW Armstrong, Encyclopedia of Film Themes, Settings and Series (2009)
[7] PC Rollins, The Columbia Companion to American History on Film: How the Movies Have Portrayed the American Past (2004)