Whoa!  We saw this endlessly as kids and pretty much set it aside in favor of later revisionist westerns of the 1950s. Raoul Walsh’s pseudobio of George Armstrong Custer is nevertheless a stunning, action-filled epic with humor, romance and a smashing star performance by Errol Flynn. Olivia de Havilland bounces back as the faithful wife, in a production that gives Flynn exactly what he needs to maximize his appeal. The staging of the action is still breathtaking, and the digital restoration makes it look like it was filmed yesterday. Also starring Arthur Kennedy and Anthony Quinn.

They Died With Their Boots On
Blu-ray
Warner Archive Collection
1941 / B&W / 1:37 Academy / 140 min. / Street Date July 29, 2025 / Available at MovieZyng / 24.99
Starring: Errol Flynn, Olivia de Havilland, Arthur Kennedy, Anthony Quinn, Charley Grapewin, Sydney Greenstreet, Joe Sawyer, Gene Lockhart, Stanley Ridges, John Litel, Walter Hampden, Regis Toomey, Hattie McDaniel, G.P. Huntley, Frank Wilcox, Minor Watson, Tod Andrews, Roy Barcroft, Hobart Bosworth, Walter Brooke, Francis Ford, John Hamilton, William Hopper, Ian MacDonald, Anna Q. Nilsson, John Ridgely, Ray Teal, Jim Thorpe, Gig Young, Minor Watson.
Cinematography: Bert Glennon
Art Director: John Hughes
Costumes: Milo Anderson
Film Editor: William Holmes
Montages: Don Siegel
Music Composer: Max Steiner
Screenplay by Aeneas MacKenzie, Wally Kline additional dialogue Lenore J. Coffee
Executive Producer Hal Wallis
Directed by Raoul Walsh

In the announcements of upcoming Warner Archive titles, we’re always happy to see more star vehicles with the golden-age luminaries Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney and Errol Flynn. Late July brought us this real winner, remastered in spectacular quality. It reminds us of the uproarious approval these pictures received back at the L.A. County Museum of Art’s Bing Theater, screened in gleaming nitrate studio prints.

By now we accept that many of the movies of Golden Age Hollywood were grossly inaccurate. Falsifying history to make a better star vehicle is no longer a major crime. If the Production Code said that movies didn’t have the Freedom of Speech rights that literature had, if they could only be frivolous entertainment … then who cared what how they presented history?  The Hollywood studios never had a much power as they did in the years leading up to WW2. Warners had spent a fortune making colossal musicals with Busby Berkeley. When that fad had passed (or was deemed too expensive) they sunk millions into a giant action epic for Errol Flynn,  The Charge of the Light Brigade, directed by Michael Curtiz.

A couple of years later, Raoul Walsh got the nod to do an even bigger Flynn action extravaganza, this time the red-blooded saga of General George Armstrong Custer. Dime novels had turned a ‘questionable’ Indian Fighter into an All-American hero, and neither Warners nor Errol Flynn were inclined to throw shade on the legend. Writer Aeneas MacKenzie had just done a bang-up job on a Technicolor epic for Flynn and Bette Davis. Judging by the result, his script for the Custer story surely had a lot of ‘must dos:’  1) Don’t offend the South with the Civil War scenes.  2) provide something more for Olivia de Havilland to do than smile and look pretty.  3) Don’t slam the Army or offend the Brits; we may be very soon allied with them against the Germans. And  4) Figure out how to make Custer, the Army, and the whole country seem respectful of the Native American contingent — Nazi propaganda had already painted the English as war criminals for their conduct in the Boer War.

Thus, the exiting action picture They Died With Their Boots On became a reinvented telling of General Custer’s life and battles. Yet Warners’ Indian War epic remains one of Flynn’s most entertaining movies. His final teaming with Olivia de Havilland is as fresh as his first. Director Raoul Walsh proves every bit as efficient with the Warners action style as was Michael Curtiz, substituting added energy and character for Curtiz’ fast pace and refined touches.

The show shows no qualms about rewriting history to the convenience of the moment. The script covers all political bases, paying homage to the Confederacy so as not to offend southern audiences and even offering some some backhanded compliments to the native Americans. One of Custer’s officers is the English Lt. Butler (G.P. Huntley), who behaves almost like Nigel Bruce’s Dr. Watson.  ↑  Butler states that the only real Americans are the native Indians themselves, and Custer agrees.

The cheerful Lt. Butler also helps Custer adopt the Irish jig song Garryowen as the 7th Cavalry’s standard. It had been established in the U.S. military since the early 1850s.

To create a villain, the scriptwriters direct their ire to target greedy corporate businessmen (no kidding) who will do anything to make a profit. First they sell guns to the ‘dirty redskins’ (the words of Charley Grapewin’s grizzly scout character, not ours). Then they generate an advertising whirlwind that sends thousands of whites to their doom in hostile Indian territory, hoping to find riches. The unscrupulous speculators are personified by Arthur Kennedy’s elitist jerk Ned Sharp, who provides a villainous focus for every chapter of Custer’s career.

Brash West Point cadet George Armstrong Custer (Flynn) is a terrible student but is graduated early to help in the War Between the States. Held back by bureaucrats and encouraged by Elizabeth Bacon, the young woman he admires (Olivia de Havilland), Custer uses the help of General Winfield Scott (Sydney Greenstreet), army mistakes and incredible luck to quickly move from shavetail lieutenant to a full general, pulling off a daring success at Bull Run and then turning the tide at Gettysburg in favor of the Union. He marries ‘Libby’ and goes back to an unhappy civilian life until he’s given command of the Seventh Cavalry in the Dakotas. There he whips a sloppy unit into line and fights the Sioux until Crazy Horse (Anthony Quinn) sues for a treaty. But crooked politicians and businessmen, including George’s old nemesis Ned Sharp, conspire to break the treaty by arranging for Custer’s court-martial and spreading lies about a gold strike in the Black Hills. His reputation tarnished, Custer pleads with President Grant to return to his outfit and try to avert disaster in the Dakota territory.

This is a long show but one that never flags in interest. It breaks down into two fairly equal halves, the section during the Civil War, and the ‘Indian Wars’ period that followed. We’re surprised that Warners didn’t split it in two, ease up on the pace and add a scene here or there, and release it as two features. It would have been even more successful.

They Died With Their Boots On showcases the Warners house style at its peak. There’s enough story here for a ten-hour miniseries, but even though it’s all packed into 140 minutes nothing seems unduly hurried. Every moment gets its just due, and then the story moves on. De Havilland’s noble wife is established in some amusing scenes with Hattie McDaniel. Her later appearances, mostly expository story-pushers, don’t come off as rushed. Characters like Sydney Greenstreet’s fat General and even Ulysses S. Grant are each given a few moments to make a proper impression. Forward momentum is the key: Nobody stops to rehash events that have already passed.

Errol Flynn’s dashing personality adapts so well to the flamboyant Custer that the General’s image was for the longest time ‘overwritten’ with that of the movie actor. It persisted even in the face of later attempts to demythologize Custer. Robert Siodmak’s disastrous Cinerama biography  Custer of the West was a ‘low budget picture writ large’ and can’t seem to get anything right. Richard Mulligan’s brilliant, hilarious lampoon of Custer in Arthur Penn’s  Little Big Man is mostly truthful, yet is often taken as black-comedy exaggeration. We no more wanted to reassess the real Custer than we wanted to look more closely at the politics behind the War of 1812, or the Alamo. The result of an honest assessment is always the same: from the Revolution forward, the American dream has never been as noble as the old textbooks said it was.

Flynn’s endless charm neutralizes a ridiculous number of character inconsistencies. George Custer is a born glory-hound but also an idealist who won’t sell his honor. He’s a drunkard but is forever closing down the bars … and would rather eat onions than drink anyway. He gladly battles Indians but constantly champions their nobility and unjust treatment. They Died With Their Boots On likely gave historians heart attacks and made Native-American activists spit blood.

For that matter, it is odd that Flynn would be accepted as such an All-American hero. We must have overlooked the accent; his charisma transcended national identity. How many Americans can point to Flynn’s birthplace on a map?  The only other famous celebrity from Flynn’s hometown is a  cartoon character.

Just one thing unites action audiences in the face of such contradictions, and that’s a good old-fashioned American Death Wish. Both Libby and George approach his coming dee-mise as if it they had a God-willed suicide pact with Destiny. Custer does a little God-gaming of his own: aware that death is coming for everyone who rides with him to The Little Big Horn, he shifts one officer to safer duty. He then shanghais his old enemy, and forces him along on a jolly suicide march, all while quoting solemn oaths of honor. The historical Custer had a habit for always choosing the alternative that would polish his grandiose reputation. Did he know what he was doing that last day, or did the coalition of Indian foes really outfox him?

Flynn’s Custer doesn’t trace a full character arc, but his story does chart a nimble shift from comedy to stern-faced drama. He keeps his dignity even though the Seventh rides to glory by way of a simple trap that every six year-old in the audience can see coming. In this version, you see, Custer knew it was a trap and so wasn’t really trapped, understand?  Custer knows his entire command will likely be killed, but (sigh) we just have to accept that honor makes strange demands on men in uniform. When things go bad, at least Custer doesn’t scream “It’s not my fault!”

In a pleasant contrast with The Charge of the Light Brigade, a tale with a very similar structure, Walsh and Flynn don’t overstate the heroics in Custer’s violent end. Seeing Errol caught up short, and doing his best in a losing fight … must have been a powerful tug at the emotions of matinee kids. A million of their older brothers would soon be going to war.

They Died With Their Boots On is a heavy-duty workout for the second unit. The picture employed a whole squad of second unit directors, who give their all to the wartime battles and the Famous Last Stand. It looks as if most of the western end of the San Fernando Valley was enlisted to stand in for everything from Dakota’s Black Hills to the fields of Pennsylvania – You know, the brownish parts of Gettysburg, with all those arid-looking eucalyptus trees. The Stony Point outcropping at the entrance to Simi Valley is a prime location — today it’s hemmed in on three sides by housing developments.

In the big battle, check out the clouds that are frequently superimposed to make backgrounds match. They can be seen remaining static as shots pan, and showing through an occasional cavalryman’s hat. And one has to appreciate the spectacular aerial shot of Custer’s troop moving in the foreground while a thousand mounted Indians outflank them in the distance. Those faraway horses are a double exposure trick — and they seem to be galloping at eighty m.p.h.!

In the midst of all this is an all-time favorite Flynn horseriding shot, reining in his steed. It slides to a halt on its back legs like a hot rod skidding to a stop. Ultra-cool action, that: college roommate Steve Sharon and tuned in to the end of Boots On at least twice, just to admire the moment.

It almost makes one forget the audacious final scenes, which outdo John Ford’s ‘screw the facts’ finale in  Fort Apache and the ‘print the legend’ baloney of  The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Libby threatens to expose the corrupt businessman & politicians with Custer’s dying declaration, unless they dissolve their affairs and resign. The fat cats cave to Libby’s threat. Are we supposed to conclude that George and Libby put an end to big-business chicanery?  The inference is that George Armstrong Custer has been a ‘closeted Great American’ all these years, one of America’s most noble historical secrets. George was trying to protect the Indians in the name of America’s honor, see?  That script invention has been co-opted by too many political crooks, that ones that claim that ‘higher loyalites’ forbid them from telling the truth under oath.

Errol Flynn is magnificent. Olivia de Havilland brandishes her Sweetness & Light aura from  Gone With The Wind — Libby even has Hattie McDaniel for a maid, completing the Melanie Daniels connection. The young Anthony Quinn  ←  plays one of the best Native American characters ever — his Crazy Horse is a smart commander and a dervish in the saddle, earning Custer’s admiration from the start.

Arthur Kennedy is a creep for all seasons, acting snide at the Academy, showing cowardice in battle, and committing the worst possible offense in a western: selling guns to the red men!  It’s also fun to see scores of actors with long careers, in their early days: Gig Young, Ray Teal, Tod Andrews, William Hopper. Gig Young looks so youthful, we weren’t sure we had the right guy.

The picture saw a lot of play in the early months of the war, surely serving as a major morale booster when little or no positive war news was coming in. Had anyone complaine, the Warners brass could justify their distortion of history as good patriotic entertainment, at a time when the country needed a defeat converted into a tale of inspiration.

The Warner Archive Collection Blu-ray of They Died With Their Boots On is a winner, one of few Golden Era action epics that can match today’s pictures for action excitement. It’s a very busy and noisy ride. We now accept it as historical fantasy tailored to inflate the legend of the bigger-than-life Errol Flynn. We never bought critic Charles Higham’s unconvincing takedown of Flynn’s reputation; the inclusion of a villainous Flynn substitute in  The Rocketeer was never very welcome, either.

The remaster is superb — Bert Glennon’s cinematography is at all times rich and handsome. The film has a natural texture but very little grain, even in the many dissolved sections that we assume are the montages cut by specialist Don Siegel. After a lifetime of seeing WB classics looking dull and dusty in old TV prints, this disc is a revelation.

Those ‘vast exteriors’ were filmed in Agoura, Alhambra, Calabasas and the Iverson Ranch … all of which are now L.A. suburbs, some of them in the next county. We’d like to know where they found those acres of green to serve as West Point.

Max Steiner’s robust score includes his signature drum-drum-drum ‘Indian’ cues he repeated for fifteen years, all the way through The Searchers. The brassy main themes contrast well with the romantic music for Libby, the perfect officer’s wife.

The WAC has seen fit to grace the new They Died With Their Boots On disc by recreating the entire extras package produced for the first DVD from 2005. Leonard Maltin’s Warner Night at the Movies extras are all from 1942. A featurette championing Army doctoring as a career stars an unbilled and very young Eleanor Parker as a spirited nurse. A Tale of Two Kitties (remastered in HD) is a cartoon with two cats that fully imitate Abbott and Costello, so much so that I’m surprised that Universal’s lawyers didn’t object. The cats square off with a proto-Tweety Pie character, and the violent results are hilarious.

The interview docu To Hell or Glory wisely focuses on the appeal of the Errol Flynn – Olivia de Havilland romantic pairing. Flynn apparently preferred director Raoul Walsh over that old slave-driver Michael Curtiz. Walsh dedicated only 4 pages of his 1974 autobiography to the film, dispensing some dubious tales about the giant action shoot for the finale. But he does explain one reason Flynn liked Walsh — the film’s success helped Flynn negotiate an extended contract that doubled his salary. Walsh said that it was Boots On that gave Flynn the cash to buy his beloved yacht. Other sources say that Flynn bought his yacht Zaca in 1945. It gets a lot of screen time in Orson Welles’  The Lady from Shanghai.

Reviewed by Glenn Erickson

They Died With Their Boots On
Blu-ray rates:
Movie: Excellent
Video: Excellent
Sound: Excellent
Warner Night at the Movies Supplements:
Introduction by Leonard Maltin
Featurette They Died with Their Boots on: To Hell or Glory
Original Theatrical Trailer
Introduction by Leonard Maltin
All Through the Night Trailer
An MGM News of the World newsreel
Short subject Soldiers in White
Merrie Melodies cartoon A Tale of Two Kitties.
Deaf and Hearing-impaired Friendly? YES; Subtitles: English (feature only)
Packaging: One Blu-ray in Keep case
Reviewed: September 6, 2025
(7367boot)

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