Alan Ladd was never more spectacularly miscast than in the title role of this unpretentious medieval swashbuckler – around the one-hour mark a henchman laughs at Ladd when he reveals himself to be the Black Knight and you can’t help thinking he’s right to laugh. Not only is Ladd too American, his too old, too puffy looking, too obviously trying a role where his heart’s not in it, too silly in armour, and with too bad a haircut (it’s a shocking poncy number). He’s easily outshone by Peter Cushing, a strong villain, and Harry Andrews, but Patricia Medina’s female lead is poor.
Decent enough story – the usual someone-trying-to-knock-off-the-legitimate-king, with the twist the baddies are blaming everything on the Vikings - but is poorly structured: in the middle when Patricia Medina gets abducted and Ladd has to come to the rescue twice in the space of ten minutes (surely there should be one abduction, at the end – but then he’s got to go on a whole new mission).
There is plenty of action, some of it done well, the pace is fact and there’s a fun over the top scene where pagans are about to sacrifice Medina at Stonehenge and some girls do an exotic pagan dance – Ladd and King Arthur’s men come to the rescue, and respond by pulling Stonehenge down. Christian wrath! But just when you’re having fun Ladd does something silly and ruins it.
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