MOVIE OF THE DAY: "AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 MINUTES WITH DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS" (1931)

Like many middle-aged men, Douglas Fairbanks went through a midlife crisis, thanks to

a floundering marriage (to Mary Pickford), the end of silents (his thin, cigarette-worn voice was unsuitable for sound), and, perhaps worst of all, watching his son, Doug Jr., usurp him at the box office.

In short, the King of Hollywood had been dethroned.

And, like many men in his condition, he reacted by rounding up a few friends and going on a little trip to get away from it all. But unlike your average guy spending a weekend in Vegas, Fairbanks invited director Victor Fleming, cameraman Henry Sharp, and production manager Charles Lewis on a six-month cruise to Asia. The idea was to shoot a movie to be released by United Artists, the studio Fairbanks built with Pickford, Charlie Chaplin and D.W. Griffith. It's good to be the King, even if you have been dethroned.

Doug and his pals look forward to a half year
away from their wives.

What they eventually came up was a schizophrenic travelogue that can't decide if it wants to be serious, silly, or even authentic. It's even unclear what the real title is. All the original posters call it Around the World in 80 Minutes with Douglas Fairbanks, while the opening credits leave out "in 80 Minutes". Most contemporary sources drop "with Douglas Fairbanks". For brevity's sake, let's call it ATW.

Where's the KFC?

The best thing about ATW is that it captures "exotic" lands just before they became totally

 modernized. While Doug assures us that Hawaii has amenities like hotels and drugstores, the first glimpse is that of a lush American territory, decades away from statehood, filled with, as he describes them, "wonderfully simple people." They'd love hearing that today, I'm sure.

The King meets the Duke

While in Hawaii, Doug hangs with Olympic swimming champ Duke Kahanamoku, who appears mildly bemused at the sight of this almost-washed-up movie star with the endless leis around his neck. But just to prove he's still got what it takes, Doug goes surfing with him, which was probably the first time most American movie audiences even heard of the sport. By the way, Doug falls off his surfboard.

Celebrity Cruises encourages its passengers
to exercise like this.

Speaking of surfing, Doug never shies away from showing off his athleticism or physique, whether performing dangerous stunts aboard ship or clambering up a temple in Angkor. While amusing, it seems like a guy nearing 50 trying to remind people he still has what it takes to play Zorro or Robin Hood -- even if he sounds more like a would-be stand-up comic with poor timing. 

Trust me, there's nothing funnier than
poor families begging for pennies from
rich tourists.

Still, I must admit that half the fun of watching old travelogues like ATW is the patronizing narration reserved for "foreign lands", and Doug never disappoints. While he has good words for the people of the countries he visits -- calling the Chinese "the most vitally interesting people in the world", or looking upon in wonder at India's spirituality -- Doug can't resist making cracks about beggars, slums, and children who can't afford decent clothes. White man very hilarious!

Doug might have his hands behind him,
but Uncle Sam's are controlling Aguinaldo.

Not all the condescension is aimed at poor folks. While in the US-controlled Philippines, Doug meets General Emilio Aguinaldo, who he reminds us was our enemy during the Spanish-American War, but is now "one of our most useful citizens" -- i.e., our puppet in what he refers to as a land of "strange, primitive savages". Remind me again, why do so many people loathe us?

Fairbanks is literally all over the map.

Doug also takes the time share bad puns and silly jokes, like the one about a guy with three children who didn't want a fourth. It seems the fellow heard that "every fourth child born in the world is a Chinaman." Hi-yo!

Other jokes are strictly topical. As we see the ancient temples of Siam (now Thailand), he remarks, "These ruins are in a perfect state of preservation -- like the Republican Party." Throw in references to long-gone celebrities like Graham McNamee and Ukulele Ike, and ATW becomes a game of Trivial Pursuit only I could win.

A racist rodent.

And from out of nowhere, Doug invites "the world's biggest movie star", Mickey Mouse, to get into the ugly American act, dancing to a Siamese melody while occasionally squinting his eyes to look Asian. Audiences today would recoil in horror. And yet -- he's so darned cute! I mean, after his all-too brief appearance is over, I dare you not to hit "rewind". (Don't let the Disney people know about it, because they'd probably try to destroy every copy of ATW.)

The handsomest ugly Americans ever.

When not alternately complimenting and ridiculing the people they meet, Fairbanks and Victor Fleming spend most of their time golfing. In fact, they're rather upset that the golf course in Peking is currently being used by the army as a battlefield during their civil war. Darn those wars!

In a scene sure not to amuse women today, Doug and Vic are caught peeking through a doorway where, inside, a young Japanese woman is getting dressed in what she assumed was the privacy of her own home. That this bit is clearly a studio-shot piece of fiction makes no difference. Like a later scene in India where Doug is shown fighting hand-to-paw with a tiger, this phoney-baloney is brushed off by Doug with, "History is a compound of fact and fancy. So why not film?" Good save, Doug, good save.

Why do you suppose this shot of Doug and
Vic didn't make the final cut?

In fact, several minutes of the India scene were obviously shot on a soundstage. After watching a kid climb a rope before disappearing (a special effect old-hat even in 1931), Doug and the boys decide it's time to go home. But because they have to make it back in four minutes (remember the title), they jump on a magic carpet -- a reference to his 1924 classic The Thief of Baghdad -- and make their way across Europe, the Atlantic Ocean, New York, and Chicago (where they dodge gangsters'  bullets), before landing in Hollywood. (In a rare moment of genuinely sardonic wit, Doug describes the studio's gas tank as "the publicity department".) 

After landing, Doug thanks the audience, and promises a sequel that was never to be. As with Doug's next movie, Mr. Robinson Crusoe, you can't help but feel a little sad about how his career sputtered to an end. Even his pal Victor Fleming appears to rub it in, turning off the lights as Doug is saying his goodbyes. There must be a nicer way to tell a pal it's time to get off the stage.

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