As most of you know, I am a direct descendant of Robert Stevenson, the grandfather of Robert Louis Stevenson, so I tend to be a bit critical of the movies based on RLS's work, and this is certainly one of the least interesting. Admittedly, I'd give it around a fifty percent mark, but, all told, it's a pretty undistinguished remake if ever there was one. I'll admit the acting is serviceable enough, and I always have a soft spot for Peter Finch, a fine actor who really took his profession very seriously indeed. In fact, far too seriously. It killed him in the end. But that's exactly the problem. You can worry too much about your own performance and put far too much of your power into it. If the script asks you to get angry, well then you really do get angry and pour out so much genuine anger that you can really give yourself a heart attack. That's why I stopped acting. I became the person I was portraying, and if he was angry enough to induce a heart attack, then I was equally angry in my own heart and soul. But it really comes down to the director's responsibility. If he thinks I'm too robust, he can tone me down. If he thinks my interpretation is all wrong, he can tell me how he wants it played. But Finchy was always his own taskmaster – and an extremely hard taskmaster at that! He really threw himself into a role! Well, getting back to this movie, another of my main problems is that twenty-two year-old James MacArthur is too old for the part of David Balfour. Maybe I'm wrong, but I see him as a young boy in his early teens – fifteen or sixteen at the most!
Review of Kidnapped
