Bloody Vikings

I first saw The Vikings (1958) on TV, at my cousins’ house when I was a kid, on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Ever since I have considered it the perfect rainy Sunday movie - but I’ve never seen it since, until now.

It starts with an attack on an English kingdom. There is pillaging, looting and raping, including Viking king Ernest Borgnine doing the Queen and killing the King. When things settle down, a sleazy cousin Frank Thring takes over the kingdom. The pregnant ex-Queen sends the bastard baby half-prince away for safety, but his ship is taken by Vikings, and he is brought up a slave. He will grow up to be Tony Curtis.

Meanwhile, Borgnine’s legitimate son, Kirk Douglas, is a rough and rowdy Viking, drinking, carousing, and going on raids. He crosses paths with Curtis when they are hunting. They get in a tiff and Curtis flies his hawk at Douglas, blinding him in one eye. Curtis is condemned to drowning (due to a curse against shedding his blood), but a witch-woman saves him, and an exiled English noble claims him as his slave. This noble soon realizes that this slave is the rightful heir to an English kingdom.

There will be more adventures in England, the Northland, and on the sea. There will be a magic Negro, Eric Connor, who teaches Curtis to use a compass to navigate. Janet Leigh shows up as the beautiful Englishwoman both Curtis and Douglas are in love with. And it all ends with a showdown between Curtis and Douglas, and a Viking funeral.

First of all, this is beautifully photographed in an unspoiled fjord and a historic castle or two. It has a great ancient-by-way-of-Hollywood feel. Douglas plays the villain very convincingly here, much more than I remembered. I have no idea why they thought Curtis, with his broad Brooklyn accent, belongs in historical movies (“Yonda lies da castle of my fadda”), but there it is.

All in all, a great rainy Sunday afternoon movie still.