An All-Star Cast Basks in the Success of Zanuck's Sun

Offering perfect summertime escapist fare in a glorious tropical setting, 1957’s Island in the Sun showcases an attractive, talented cast involved in a wealth of intrigue involving topics such as obsession, murder, politics and, most famously, interracial romance. Director Robert Rossen keeps the abundant action and characters flowing in an organized manner throughout the film’s nearly 2-hour run time, aided by appropriate emphasis on the stunning natural wonders on view, with Freddie Young’s on-location cinematography in Barbados and Grenada aptly standing in for the fictional title locale of Santa Marta, a screenplay by Alfred Hayes that manages to carefully emphasis each storyline without things becoming overly convoluted, and a rich cast of veteran and up-and-coming players that add charm and class to the proceedings.

Producer Darryl F. Zanuck secured the rights to 1956 Alec Waugh’s bestseller prior to the book’s release, as well as just prior to his move from the head of 20^th Century Fox into independent production. Showing he’d lost none of his skill in successfully marketing films containing controversial storylines with commercial appeal (see 1947’s Gentlemen’s Agreement and 1949’s Pinky), Zanuck sagely played up the interracial inspects of the plot during promotion of Island, causing plenty of publicity in the process, while tamely dealing with the subject onscreen, in order to increase the size of audiences curious to see how the subject matter would be depicted for one of the first times in a major Hollywood film, without offending the less-than-liberal found among the masses. Zanuck met his objective, as Island indeed went on to major box-office success during the summer of 1957 (interesting, as Zanuck was the producer of the film, the familiar 20^th Century Fox opening does not appear at the movie’s outset). Although the film does sometimes come off as trite, the beautiful background and a fine, highly decorative cast do much to put over the various intertwining plot elements.

Although he received special billing on posters and the movie’s opening credits, Harry Belafonte rates as possibly the biggest star component responsible for Island’s popularity. At the time Belafonte had become a sensation on records, with his “Calypso” album of the previous year becoming one of the decade’s smashes (with 31 weeks at #1 on the Billboard charts), aided by his biggest solo hit, “Day-O.”  Although his work in Island as David Boyeur, a young native looking to gain political prominence on the, is agreeable in a serene manner, Belafonte would hone his craft as an actor over time, offering stronger dramatic work in 1959’s Odds Against Tomorrow and The World, the Flesh and the Devil then, decades later, via scary, stunning work as a calm-yet-sadistic gangster in Robert Altman’s Kansas City, for which Belafonte won a New York Film Critics Award. However, Island may provide the ideal image of Belafonte in his prime, perfectly situated among the lush tropical settings with, at one point, his singing (in calypso fashion) seaside with a group of workmen counting among the movie’s highlights. Belafonte also scored a hit as performer and co-writer (with Irving Burgie) of the melodious title song, which lingers on in memory as one of the artist’s signature recordings.

Opposite Belafonte, Joan Fontaine lends her fair-haired beauty and patrician manners to the role of Mavis Norman, a widowed socialite on the island seeking more purpose in life outside of frequent cocktail parties and recognizing in David a possible soulmate. Their potential romantic interludes are stymied time and again by the hesitant filmmakers (a love scene involving a kiss was reportedly shot, but not allowed in the final film), to the point that the most contact between the two involves David helping Mavis out of a bus or over an obstacle as they traverse around the island. However, Fontaine does a good job conveying Mavis’ burgeoning attraction to David and her open-minded views on life, thereby illustrating her development over the years from the shy, awkward girl in her star-maker, Rebecca (wherein she gives one of the great 1940’s performances) to the more stylish, sophisticated leading lady of her later screen endeavors. Island does at least move a step forward in portraying interracial themes onscreen by having the two would-be lovers discuss a possible union and, even if the final outcome leaves the viewer wanting more, the forthrightness Fontaine displays as Mavis professes her desire to move ahead with a relationship despite prejudices David and she will face helps add shading and a contemporary feel to Mavis’ character.

James Mason gives perhaps the most riveting Island performance as Maxwell Fleury, a well-to-do islander whose chances of besting Boyeur for a political seat are threatened not just by indifference towards the problems of the island’s underprivileged majority, but also an ever-increasing jealously regarding his young wife Sylvia’s (Patricia Owens) possible interest a handsome war veteran, Hilary Carson. As he had done most effectively on other occasions, such as his memorable Captain Nemo in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and a Norman Maine for the ages in the same year’s A Star is Born, as well as hypnotic work the previous year in Bigger Than Life, Mason uses his regal bearing and magnificent voice to both glower in unnerving fashion, while also uncannily allowing audiences to identify and sympathize with the paranoid character’s plight. In Mason’s hands, a viewer may hope Maxwell escapes any dire consequences for his serous missteps that seem forthcoming due to, if for no other reason, the Production Code’s edict that no crime goes unpunished in 1950’s mainstream films, due to the multi-faceted shadings Mason deftly provides the role.

After firmly establishing herself as filmdom’s first major African-American female star and sex symbol via her iconic, Oscar-nominated performance as the fiery title character in 1954’s Carmen Jones, Dorothy Dandridge was at a critical juncture in her film career by 1957, specifically after turning down (on the advice of Carmen director Otto Preminger, who felt she should hold out for lead parts) a supporting role in the previous year’s smash The King and I, which could have substantially aided an upward trajectory concerning her film career. Fortunately, the success of Island gave a well-timed boost to Dandridge’s star status, which opened the door for one of her key film roles a couple years later in Porgy and Bess. In Island, as Margot Seaton, an ambitious career-minded young woman, a stunning Dandridge handles her role in the film’s other big interracial romance (opposite John Justin, who memorably gained fame as the hero of 1940’s The Thief of Bagdad) with composure and warmth. Interesting, she and Justin are allowed to explore their romance a little more openly than Belafonte/Fontaine, with a key embrace and cheek-to-cheek during an intimate dance sequence turning up the heat, before Dandridge really sets the screen ablaze in solo fashion during a festive limbo dance that may serve as the high point of the film. It’s frustrating to ponder, given the right opportunities, how much more Dandridge could have accomplished as a major star, but the work she did accomplish during her brief 1950’s reign as a top leading lady continues to impress, serving as a permanent reminder of Dandridge’s potent talent.

Joan Collins is also seen to very good advantage as Jocelyn, Maxwell’s younger sister who finds herself embroiled in plenty of romantic and race issues of her own. Although still a newcomer to American films after making a memorable debut in Howard Hawk’s 1955 epic, Land of the Pharaohs, Collins had started acting in London nearly a decade before Island, first at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art before entering films via a contract with Rank. This early work could account for Collins’ mature ease before the camera and skill in performing at an age when most starlets were still trying to find their way around a camera angle. She appears completely comfortable in her role as Jocelyn, who faces several dilemmas regarding her blossoming relationship with a handsome young English Lord (an engaging Stephen Boyd, just before he gained stardom entering his own epic territory via Ben-Hur). Collins also adds some sensuality to the proceedings, creating some nice chemistry with Boyd as they share a couple steamy interludes, and via some revealing costume designs that provide further evidence that mainstream films were working their way towards offering a more direct approach concerning adult themes.

Patricia Owens was having a great breakout year in 1957, also scoring key roles in No Down Payment and as Marlon Brando’s intended in one of the year’s biggest smashes, Sayonara. As was the case in Payment, Owens calm, intelligence playing adds considerable power to scenes wherein her character is suddenly put-upon, and sometimes downright abused, a study in contrast that would reach its zenith the following year in The Fly, once Owen’s character finds out exactly what her spouse is up to as he buzzes about his lab. Owens’ has a rare skill in maintaining a compelling emotionalism without over-emoting in sometimes-shocking scenes that would cause many a better-known, highly acclaimed colleague to go all-out in shrieking, eyeball-rolling fashion. Her restraint on-screen in vivid moments is admirable, allowing her work to maintain a contemporary feel when viewed by modern audiences.

      

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Of the rest of the players, John Williams scores heavily doing a redux of his expert, wily work as the sleuth who quickly knows the score in Dial “M” for Murder. In a similar vein, Island finds Williams appearing to be having a ball as Colonel Whittingham, the sly police veteran who artfully badgers the prime suspect in a murder charge, in the process allowing for some lighter moments among the wealth of dramatic conflict on display. The calm, forceful Diana Wynyard also stands out as the matriarch of the Fleury clan, who offers a startling revelation to Jocelyn in one of the film’s most impactful moments. Michael Rennie does nicely as Hilary, the object of Maxwell’s wrath, adding shades of disenchantment and weakness to the role in his main scene with Mason, while old stalwarts such as Basil Sydney, Ronald Squire and Hartley Power add further distinction to the imposing cast.

Upon its initial release Island met with lukewarm reviews, but much stronger reaction from audiences intrigued by the idea of viewing then-controversial and talked-about material unfold amid a multitude of scenic wonders, allowing the film to finished among the top ten box-office hits of the year (according to Variety). Although modern audiences, while enjoying the other considerable assets on display, may find Island’s approach to the key subject matter of interracial romance very mild in presentation, the movie provides a time capsule regarding what was then deemed a big step forward onscreen in presenting a previously taboo topic to the public, showing how Hollywood could utilize top-draw resources such as lush production design, on-location shooting and a sterling cast of pros to ensure a movie’s delicate themes might reach the masses in a profitable fashion.

   P.S.: I recently created a YouTube tribute video showcasing the screen efforts from Mr. Belafonte's remarkable career, which can be viewed here.