Colonial Williamsburg, Part Two
So, by way of an update to the CW thread, and believe it or not, I do have more exciting cultural tidbits to impart to you about the whole consumer-historical odyssey.
The first thing that happens to you after you've been profiled and processed and bought whatever version of freedom you think you can best afford at the Colonial Williamsburg Visitor Center, is that you go to see a movie. The movie in question is called "Story of a Patriot." Story of a Patriot was directed by George Seaton, who was also responsible for Miracle on 34th Street, so this is no ordinary public information film experience, clearly.
It's a weird animal, this story of a patriot. It was made in 1957, it's 36 minutes long, and they're still using it today. Indeed, CW claims that this motion picture has been seen by more than 30 million people, and this might well be true since it's been screened multiple times a day for about 45 years. It's been restored over the years, which may account for the rather garish colors with which the movie favors us, but more about that in a minute.
The lead character is not a real historical figure, but rather a composite who somehow embodies the sense of uncertainty and duty in all of the colonists and burgess who wrestled with the very difficult political decisions they had to make back in the Eighteenth Century. As the CW website puts it:
"The film’s story is told through the character of fictional planter John Fry, from 1769 to 1776. Fry struggles with the questions that faced all colonists in the years leading up to the revolution: Shall the colonies unite to oppose British punishment of Boston for its Tea Party? Meet Britain’s use of force with force? Declare independence? The choices made by the colonists were not easy ones, and, as the film depicts, family members and old friends were often at odds with one another over those choices. Through Fry, the audience is introduced to George Washington, Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefferson, and other patriots who conceived the 'idea of America.'”
So naturally enough, you get to see John Fry observing these political events unfold with no small amount of circumspection as he tries to figure out whether to join the rebellious hordes of Patrick Henry et al. I won't spoil it for you, but you'd better believe that John Fry does the right thing in the end. Jefferson comes off a little prissy, though.
However, by far the most fascinating thing about the Story of a Patriot in general and about John Fry in particular is the personage of the actor who plays Mr Fry. The credits for this movie roll at the beginning and before you've seen any characters or action. So I'm sitting there in the dark, with my friends B and L and their two delightfully curious children, and I see, at the top of the screen, the following:
John Fry..................................................Jack Lord
And my eyes get all big. And I lean over to my friend B, and I say, in a stage whisper, "JACK LORD? JACK LORD? IS THAT THE JACK LORD? COULD IT POSSIBLY BE?"
And B says, in much less of a stage whisper but much more of a "please-don't-embarrass-me" kind of tone, "Who's Jack Lord?"
At which point I start to wonder about my friend B and his bona fides.
Because, Ladies and Gentleman, Mister John Fry, bipartisan patriot, American Agonistes, archetypal colonaial worrywart, is indeed played by the same person who for twelve glorious years favored us with the ultimate in bronzed and lacquered Pacific detective panache - Jack Lord went onto become Hawaii Five-O's Steve McGarrett. It's almost too exciting and delicious even to be able to recount. The idea that for the next thirty-six minutes I would be enjoying the suave charms of Steve McGarrett in colonial garb made me barely able to contain myself. I can hardly type even now, almost two weeks later, as I think about it.
And let me tell you what he was wearing, oh my goodness what he was wearing. He dons (I think that's the right word, dons) a lot of very vibrantly colored frock coats, from peuce to teal and most points in between, and he sports (yes, he definitely sports) a number of equally shockingly colored, well, is jodhpurs too strong a word? They seemed like jodhpurs. One of the early pairs looks like it's made out of denim, but I couldn't swear to that. And all of this after he left his wife and family to take up his dead father's seat in the Virginia House of Burgesses with nary a carry-on bag, so you have to wonder where exactly he's getting all of these snazzy outfits. All of this adds up to a figure who resembles Elvis Presley in pantomime, if that's not putting too fine a point on it. It's really a feast for the eyes, and even though Mister Lord/Fry/McGarrett doesn't end up treating us to the sight of himself in a powdered peruque (it was probably in his contract that we only got to see his very shiny, very black and very luxuriant black hair), it still adds up to one of the campest thirty six minutes you'll see on the silver screen. Truly, a marvel.
The first thing that happens to you after you've been profiled and processed and bought whatever version of freedom you think you can best afford at the Colonial Williamsburg Visitor Center, is that you go to see a movie. The movie in question is called "Story of a Patriot." Story of a Patriot was directed by George Seaton, who was also responsible for Miracle on 34th Street, so this is no ordinary public information film experience, clearly.
It's a weird animal, this story of a patriot. It was made in 1957, it's 36 minutes long, and they're still using it today. Indeed, CW claims that this motion picture has been seen by more than 30 million people, and this might well be true since it's been screened multiple times a day for about 45 years. It's been restored over the years, which may account for the rather garish colors with which the movie favors us, but more about that in a minute.
The lead character is not a real historical figure, but rather a composite who somehow embodies the sense of uncertainty and duty in all of the colonists and burgess who wrestled with the very difficult political decisions they had to make back in the Eighteenth Century. As the CW website puts it:
"The film’s story is told through the character of fictional planter John Fry, from 1769 to 1776. Fry struggles with the questions that faced all colonists in the years leading up to the revolution: Shall the colonies unite to oppose British punishment of Boston for its Tea Party? Meet Britain’s use of force with force? Declare independence? The choices made by the colonists were not easy ones, and, as the film depicts, family members and old friends were often at odds with one another over those choices. Through Fry, the audience is introduced to George Washington, Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefferson, and other patriots who conceived the 'idea of America.'”
So naturally enough, you get to see John Fry observing these political events unfold with no small amount of circumspection as he tries to figure out whether to join the rebellious hordes of Patrick Henry et al. I won't spoil it for you, but you'd better believe that John Fry does the right thing in the end. Jefferson comes off a little prissy, though.
However, by far the most fascinating thing about the Story of a Patriot in general and about John Fry in particular is the personage of the actor who plays Mr Fry. The credits for this movie roll at the beginning and before you've seen any characters or action. So I'm sitting there in the dark, with my friends B and L and their two delightfully curious children, and I see, at the top of the screen, the following:
John Fry..................................................Jack Lord
And my eyes get all big. And I lean over to my friend B, and I say, in a stage whisper, "JACK LORD? JACK LORD? IS THAT THE JACK LORD? COULD IT POSSIBLY BE?"
And B says, in much less of a stage whisper but much more of a "please-don't-embarrass-me" kind of tone, "Who's Jack Lord?"
At which point I start to wonder about my friend B and his bona fides.
Because, Ladies and Gentleman, Mister John Fry, bipartisan patriot, American Agonistes, archetypal colonaial worrywart, is indeed played by the same person who for twelve glorious years favored us with the ultimate in bronzed and lacquered Pacific detective panache - Jack Lord went onto become Hawaii Five-O's Steve McGarrett. It's almost too exciting and delicious even to be able to recount. The idea that for the next thirty-six minutes I would be enjoying the suave charms of Steve McGarrett in colonial garb made me barely able to contain myself. I can hardly type even now, almost two weeks later, as I think about it.
And let me tell you what he was wearing, oh my goodness what he was wearing. He dons (I think that's the right word, dons) a lot of very vibrantly colored frock coats, from peuce to teal and most points in between, and he sports (yes, he definitely sports) a number of equally shockingly colored, well, is jodhpurs too strong a word? They seemed like jodhpurs. One of the early pairs looks like it's made out of denim, but I couldn't swear to that. And all of this after he left his wife and family to take up his dead father's seat in the Virginia House of Burgesses with nary a carry-on bag, so you have to wonder where exactly he's getting all of these snazzy outfits. All of this adds up to a figure who resembles Elvis Presley in pantomime, if that's not putting too fine a point on it. It's really a feast for the eyes, and even though Mister Lord/Fry/McGarrett doesn't end up treating us to the sight of himself in a powdered peruque (it was probably in his contract that we only got to see his very shiny, very black and very luxuriant black hair), it still adds up to one of the campest thirty six minutes you'll see on the silver screen. Truly, a marvel.
posted by rod at 4:16 PM
1 Comments:
You don't even know the half of the "Story of a Patriot." As a former CW interpreter I'll let you know that SOP is a legend unto itself. Yes, the most interesting part is Jack Lord--but if you can come across an old copy (before the movie was redone by some very "civic minded" rich donors) you may be able to find some of the rumored bloopers. To wit: the scene where they are discussing the revolution by the river there is supposed to be someone water skiing by. Also you can see a bus in one scene and a tourist with bermuda shorts in a crowd scene.
CW is definitely an interesting beast--by the way, I was one of the "docents" (we prefer the term historic interpreter--but when you say you are an interpreter people ask what language you speak) and I'll tell you that place is one of the biggest beauro"crap"tic muck-ups I've ever seen. The interpreters on the street are the ones you come to see--but don't tell that to all of the office staff. Why did you have to pay so much to visit CW? Don't know--the interpreters don't make that much money. It must be to pay for the 20 some odd vice presidents who work in upper management. They are the brilliant ones who go to meeting after meeting discussing what to call the tickets and how much to charge people like you to see some history. I don't want to rant too much (my husband still works there) but I find it amusing that a place that is open 365 days a year will not provide decent daycare for the poorly paid interpreters who have to work all of the time to pay for their daycare.
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