by Stephen Vagg
Albert “Cubby” Broccoli is probably one of the best-known film producers in history, thanks to his involvement with the classic Call Me Bwana (1963). Just kidding – it’s due to his association with the James Bond series – which only just recently ended, albeit from beyond the grave, when his family sold out its interest in the franchise to Amazon. For six decades before that, Broccoli (and his heirs – specifically, his children Barbara Broccoli and Michael Wilson) guided Bond to culture redefining success.
With this article, however, we’re discussing pre-Bond Broccoli – in particular, his decade -long partnership with Irving Allen, which broke up over Bond, but which laid much of the groundwork for those fabulous movies. And it involved being British moguls.
This is the story of Warwick Pictures.
Some background: Broccoli was born in New York City in 1909. He did a variety of jobs before moving into the film industry with the help of his cousin, Pat Di Cicco, an agent and (rumoured) mobster, whose ex-wives included Thelma Todd and heiress Gloria Vanderbilt, and who reportedly killed Ted Healey in a fight. Anyway, Broccoli became an assistant director and talent agent, but was ambitious for something more, and decided to move into producing.
He teamed up with Irving Allen (not to be confused with Irwin Allen, famed maker of disaster films). Allen was born in 1905 in what was then Austria (and now is the Ukraine); he became an editor and director of Oscar-winning documentaries (Climbing the Matterhorn) and low budget action films such as Avalanche (1946), produced by Pat Di Ciccio and production managed by Broccoli.
Allen and Broccoli decided to go into business as producers, forming Warwick Productions.
The duo were very, very smart. They decided to make films in Britain or Europe, where production costs were lower than Hollywood (weaker unions, stronger subsidies, tax incentives, ability to use “frozen” funds) and offered the possibility of fresh locations. They would entice a male American star to play the lead via a big fat salary, and focus on action-adventure type material, which “travelled” better internationally (as opposed to comedies, musicals or dramas which tended to be more indigenous), reducing their risk by basing stories on some sort of pre-existing IP.
Warwick’s first movie was The Red Beret (1953), a British guys-on-a-mission war tale, based on a true incident (Operation Biting). Broccoli and Allen attracted the interest of Alan Ladd, who was keen to make a movie outside the US to reduce his tax bill. Ladd’s character was given a girl to romance (Susan Stephen) and a British officer to butt heads with (Leo Genn). To help reshape the material for the star (whose accent was “explained away” by making him Canadian), Broccoli and Allen hired Ladd’s old Paramount producer/writer Richard Maibaum to rewrite the script. Terence Young directed.
The Red Beret was a big hit in Britain – while local journalists clutched pearls at the idea of an American appearing in such a British story, the public seemed flattered. Warwick was off and running.
The Red Beret established the Warwick formula – a foreign (i.e. non-American) setting, imported American male star and British male-co star, a prominent female love interest, an action-adventure story based on some pre-existing IP (a novel, or historical event, or combination of both), a solid pro director, an American screenwriter, and American investment (normally Columbia Studios). A number of other companies were making these sort of movies in Britain in the 1950s – Romulus, Todon, Hammer, Anglo-Amalgamated – but Warwick were probably the most consistent, leading them to develop a core of talented, capable craftsmen.
Alan Ladd made two more Warwick Films. Hell Below Zero (1954) was an entertaining whaling tale (if you don’t mind whalers being depicted as heroic) from a Hammond Innes book with Stanley Baker and Joan Tetzel, well directed by Mark Robson; the second unit location footage is terrific. The Black Knight (1954) was a swashbuckler set during the time of King Arthur directed by Tay Garnett; it has an entertaining story and strong support cast, but Ladd looks too American, too old, too puffy, too obviously playing a role where his heart’s not in it, too silly in armour, and with a bad haircut.
Prize of Gold (1955) was a sluggish heist thriller shot in Germany from a Max Catto novel starring Richard Widmark, who romances Mai Zetterling and fights Nigel Patrick (who became a Warwick favourite); Robson directed. It did okay at the box office, but The Cockleshell Heroes (1955) was a huge hit, in Britain at least. This was another true-life guys-on-a-mission war film (based on Operation Frankton) starring Jose Ferrer who also directed; Trevor Howard was the Brit antagonist. Ferrer’s on set megalomania led to Allen arranging for screenwriter Bryan Forbes to shoot some additional material – crucial in Forbes’ development as a director.
Warwick’s most regular star was Victor Mature, who wound up making five films for the company. The worst was Safari (1956), a convoluted action tale with Mature as a big game hunter fighting the Mau Mau in Kenya alongside Janet Leigh and John Justin. Far better was Zarak (1956), a silly, colourful, entertaining 19th century Imperial adventure tale with Mature as an Afghan bandit chief who turns pro-British, alongside Michael Wilding (not very at home) and Anita Ekberg (extremely at home). Interpol (1957) was a decent thriller set in Turkey, with Ekberg and Trevor Howard. No Time to Die (1958) was an excellent war film about escaping POWs in the desert with Leo Genn as an uptight Englishman and South African Sean Kelly as an Aussie. The Bandit of Zhobe (1959) was a rehash of Zarak. Irving Allen later said, “You think I employ Victor Mature because I like that big lug? I employ him because he brings in the money.” In return, Warwick gave Victor Mature some of his best films of the 1950s – the company knew how to make a decent action-adventure tale, often better than what Hollywood could come up with. (Indeed, Alan Ladd would have been better off making more movies for Warwick, notwithstanding The Black Knight.)
Warwick’s success encouraged the company to expand, perhaps too quickly; it began departing from its formula. Odongo (1956) was another Kenyan tale, only a romance rather than an action movie, with MacDonald Carey and Rhonda Fleming (far too hot for Carey); it was directed by John Gilling, who became a regular helmer at Warwick. The Gamma People (1956) was a sci-fi effort based on a story by Robert Aldrich, starring Paul Douglas shot in Austria; Broccoli later said that he should not have made this movie (the fact Warwick went into sci-fi was odd… maybe they were inspired by the success that Hammer enjoyed with The Quatermass Experiment). Even less typical was How to Murder a Rich Uncle (1957), a black comedy directed by star Nigel Patrick – the first time the company made either a comedy or a film without an American star. It must have done alright because Warwick invested in a second Nigel Patrick movie, Johnny Nobody (1961).
Warwick attempted to shift into the big leagues with Fire Down Below (1957), a Caribbean-set melodrama with three American stars – Rita Hayworth (making a comeback after several years away), Robert Mitchum and a miscast Jack Lemmon – and a newer director, Robert Parrish. The film was a dull retread of Gilda (1946), without that movie’s atmosphere, eroticism or tang. Allen later griped that the film “cost us £900,000 and though we had Mitchum and Hayworth we’ll lose a million bucks on it. We got away from our action formula and I made the mistake of letting my genius boy [Parrish] get out of line.”
Also disappointing financially was High Flight (1957) an Air Force flight school story with a miscast Ray Milland; the movie is of interest today for plane buffs and the plot’s similarities to Top Gun with Kenneth Haigh as the cocky Tom Cruise figure. There was no romance. Depart from formula at your peril!
The Man Inside (1958) was a crime film with Jack Palance in a role originally announced for Alan Ladd and Victor Mature; his co-stars were old Warwick hands Anita Ekberg and Nigel Patrick. It was the last film for Bonar Colleano, an American actor based in Britain (he was Stanley to Vivien Leigh’s Blanche in the London stage production of A Streetcar Named Desire) and who had been in a bunch of Warwick movies; he died in a car crash not long after filming. The cast also included Anne Aubrey who had been in High Flight and No Time to Die – she was a starlet under contract to the studio, and was Irving Allen’s mistress.
By the end of the 1950s, Warwick was at a crossroads. Costs were going up, the old market for adventure films was going down – the company felt it had to reinvent itself somehow. It also fought with Columbia and decided to go into distribution itself, taking over an established company, Eros Films. Warwick decided to alternate its bigger budgeted productions with a series of cheap films.
The cheaper films mostly starred Anthony Newley and Anne Aubrey. Warwick really liked Newley, giving him support roles in films like Cockleshell Heroes, Zarak, High Flight and No Time to Die, typically as a comic sidekick. Then they built a whole film around the actor: Idol on Parade (1959), a surprisingly fun comedy about an Elvis Presley-like singer (Newley) who joins the army (William Bendix is the sergeant, Anne Aubrey the girl). Newley wasn’t known as a singer until this film, but he got some hit singles out of it and was launched as a pop star.
Idol on Parade was followed by a string of Newley-Aubrey films. Jazz Boat (1960), based on a novel by Australia’s Rex Rienits, was a weird crime drama musical mash up. In the Nick (1960) was a comedy about prison. Let’s Get Married (1960) was a musical. Those were lowered budgeted efforts. Killers of Kilimanjaro (1960) was a more traditional Warwick production with location filming where Aubrey and Newley supported an ageing Hollywood name (Robert Taylor) in a script based on a pre-existing true story – the lions of Tsavo saga that inspired The Ghost and the Darkness. It wasn’t very good.
Warwick made too many movies with Anthony Newley and Anne Aubrey in them. (NB Warwick had some other actors under long term contract such as Sean Kelly, Bernie Winters and James Booth, but the ones it really pushed were Newley and Aubrey.)
Another more expensive later period Warwick production was The Trials of Oscar Wilde (1960), starring Peter Finch in the title role, from director Ken Hughes. This was a complete and utter departure from anything that Warwick had done – no action, no American star, no location work, decent budget, no songs… just a really superb biopic of a gay playwright. It’s a masterpiece, the best thing that Hughes ever did and one of Peter Finch’s highlights. It’s actually weird why Warwick made it – maybe they were inspired by the success of Room at the Top, or the passion of Ken Hughes, or they decided to make something the critics might like. The Trials of Oscar Wilde is known as a flop – it actually did well at the British box office, but didn’t travel but may not have recouped its cost. Warwick’s bottom line was further hurt by its inexperience in distribution – it soon wound up and sold Eros.
Adding to the tension were clashes between Broccoli and Allen over the sort of movies Warwick would make. Allen wished to film The Hellions, a South African Western, but Broccoli didn’t, so Allen made it under his own shingle in 1961 (with Aubrey in a key role). Broccoli was keen to produce a series of movies based on the James Bond novels by Ian Fleming, but Allen was reluctant… so Broccoli went and teamed with Canadian Harry Saltzman, who had the rights to Fleming’s novels, and set about making Dr No (1962). Broccoli used many of key Warwick personnel on Dr No, notably director Terence Young, cinematographer Ted Moore, stunt man Bob Simmons, art director Ken Adam and writer Richard Maibaum; he also tried to interest Warwick’s regular backer, Columbia Pictures, in financing but they turned down the film, so Broccoli took it to United Artists. Dr No was a blockbuster which launched the series; it also rendered the death knell of Warwick.
In the subsequent “divorce”, Allen kept the rights to a Viking tale that Warwick were going to make, The Long Ships (1965). That was a so-so success, as were two other historical epics that he produced, Genghis Khan (1965), and Cromwell (1970). For a time there, Allen must have felt like the biggest idiot in the world, as Dr No led to From Russia with Love to Goldfinger to Thunderball… But then Allen got the rights to the Matt Helm novels, secured the services of Dean Martin, and had his own hit franchise, starting with The Silencers (1966). The Matt Helm movies weren’t Bond and only lasted for four instalments but they did well financially. Allen said that ‘I’m only interested in making money. I’m not interested in kudos or getting good reviews – I’ve had all that. I’m just concerned with getting the greatest number of people into theatres.” He died in 1987. Broccoli, of course, went on make more and more Bonds, until his death in 1996.
Warwick Productions had an impressive legacy. It turned out a handful of solid action adventures (The Red Beret, Zarak Khan, No Time to Die), a surprisingly fun comedy (Idol on Parade), a lot of watchable mediocrity, and one masterpiece (Oscar Wilde). While the company imported many filmmakers from the US, it developed much local talent, notably Ken Hughes, John Gilling, Terence Young, Ted Moore, Anthony Newley, producer Euan Lloyd (who worked for them as a publicist), and Bryan Forbes. Most of all, it laid the groundwork for one of the defining film franchises of the 20th century.
So – onya, Warwick.
