From the double biography of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, Basil and Willie...

Due to his wartime injuries, Bruce's sporting activities were somewhat proscribed. On screen, he may have ambled, strolled or attempted a brisk walk, but he rarely, if ever, jogged or burst into a run. Rathbone, on the other hand, whose acting career had started before the conflict, had already incorporated his early athletic prowess, as one of the many tools of his trade. And, when Hollywood fashion turned once more to the swashbuckler and the costume epic, he was perfectly poised to strike the suitable stance and engage his physical capabilities, and especially his fencing skills, with elan.

Both Bruce and Rathbone were products of the English public school, where there was, and still is to a large degree, on emphasis on games. Bruce's brother believed his brother showed enough ability with the bat that his younger brother was up to at least county standard. Sadly, his short time at the front had deprived Bruce of any ambition he might have had in that direction.

Rathbone's sporting endeavours at school had begun a little earlier, as he was schooled at Repton. Harold Abrahams, the Olympic gold medallist, would follow in Rathbone's wake, but their school had already spawned a generation of gifted crickets, including C B Fry, an all-round athlete, who batted for Surrey and England, as well as being captain for England at football football. Other cricketers from Repton's playing fields were J N Crawford and Bill Greswell. Their names were recorded for posterity in Repton's Pavillion, along with Bunny Austin, who had helped win and retain the Davis Cup, the famous tennis trophy, for several years. Even when Rathbone had made his Hollywood he would act in several films with C Aubrey Smith, the cricketer turned actor. He was also a fan of tennis, watching the women's final at Wimbledon between Molla Mallory and Suzanne Lenglen, as well as being an admirer of the American tennis ace, Bill Tilden.

Rathbone's parents were rather at a loss why their eldest son had wanted to go up to Repton School, particularly as his father had suffered yet another financial setback, as well as pressure on his mother and two younger siblings. As Rathbone failed to shine, at least in the academic sense, this, he later admitted, had given him second thoughts. But Rathbone's reasoning for attending Repton School in 1906 was simple, because, at the time, it was renowned for its accomplishment in the world of sports. True, as a school, it had its shares of scholars, even C B Fry turned his hand to novels, but it was the playing fields of Repton, as opposed to Eton, that attracted Rathbone.

"They build an esprit de corps in English schools," wrote Rathbone, years afterwards, "a deep sense of pride in... those who come after... One had a sense of belonging that neither time nor space can erase."

By the time he left, in 1910, Rathbone participated in school matches, but he never got his cricket colours and would given anything to have gained that honour. "Such disappointments," he wrote, "loom large in a youngster's life," but he "must learn to lost and show no emotion in losing."

On leaving school, Rathbone made it clear to his father that he wished to make the theatre his profession. His father had other ideas, but the two men came to a compromise, that meant his son went into business for a year, after that he could do as he pleased.

He started his gap year, as a junior clerk in the London office of the Liverpool, London and Globe Insurance Company. The manager, Mr Lewis, had him down as manager material from the first interview, and before long he was promoted to the accounting department of the West End branch at Charing Cross, under the aegis of E Preston Hytch. Here, he was elected to play cricket and football every Saturday for the company. And, despite being invited to spend a weekend with Mr Lewis, his wife and their eligible daughter, it simply increased his determination to pursue an acting career.

It was lunchtime on the last day in the office and Rathbone had an appointment with his cousin, Frank Benson. As he made his way to Benson's office in Henrietta Street in London's Covent Garden, he was well prepared and convinced that the theatre was his future. He had received a letter in the March of1912 from Benson's that requested he attend one afternoon at two o'clock with a piece of Shakespeare for recitation. The budding actor chose a scene between Shylock, Salrarino and Salanio.

His interview was short, but it produced the required effect, although it appears that the result was a foregone conclusion. Within a few minutes, Rathbone was hired for Benson's No 2 Company, and, apart from enquiring about the health of his father and asking him to give Benson's regards to his mother, there had been little examination of the young man's time at Repton. "Benson," Rathbone wrote in a letter to J C Trewin, Benson's biographer, "indicated no interest in my scholastic abilities which in any case were nil."

Rathbone confirmed that his main reason for attending Repton was due to it being "a great games school" although he gilds the lily somewhat. He later states, in the same letter, that "Mr Benson seemed delighted that I had my football colours, was being tried out as a fast bowler for the cricket first eleven, but, above all, that I had been exceptionally successful on the track...." Further on, he writes: "I shall never be quite sure that my talents as an actor were the whole reason for this rapid promotion because, before I left his office on that glorious afternoon in March 1912, Mr Benson referred casually to my athletic prowess at Repton..."

In his memoirs, Benson does mention that, due to many of his actors were young men, keen on sport, he could put together a decent team in most games. Golf, football, cricket, hockey and even water polo were explored, although Rathbone's name is never mentioned in relation to any of these activities, there was clearly an understanding that the young actor would not benefit from his family connections.

As one of Benson's players, he toured the length and breadth of England, Scotland and Ireland. Small roles they may have been in a repertory of Shakespeare's plays, but they gave him the grounding he needed in his chosen profession. Besides, not only did he learn deportment, make-up, period dancing, as well as "instruction in diction" he also had "the use of swords".

By the time he had reached Hollywood, he would have learnt the sword skills, as part of his stagecraft, that he employ to fight with two of the screen's greatest heroes: Errol Flynn and Tyrone Power.

From 1920 to 1929, Douglas Fairbanks the swashbuckler as one of Hollywood's most popular strands, and every action hero since owes some kind of debt to his ability with a sword, as it was he who made the likes of Zorro, Robin Hood and D'Artagnan his own. Many emulated him, but few bettered him, including Ramon Navarro, Rudolph Valentino and John Barrymore, especially the latter, who was no slouch in the fencing department; having honed his skills as Hamlet on the Broadway stage.

Unfortunately, with the advent of sound, many actors failed to make the transition from the silent era, largely due to their voice failing to match their physical image. For instance, Greta Garbo's looks went with her husky speech patterns, but her one-time lover and regular co-star, John Gilbert was defeated by the new technology.

When the swashbuckler first appeared, it came in the wake of a world war, Spanish flu and a more open society, especially for women, so romance, escapism and heroes became popular. By the end of the era, when not only could the actors be heard as well as seen, the Wall Street Crash, the rise of fascism had begun, and the Great Depression was on its way. The second wave of swashbucklers, although they owed much to Fairbanks and his ilk, including the use of footage, managed to eclipse them in breadth, colour and scale.

Both Bruce and Rathbone were perfectly placed to take advantage of this resurgence, but being the more athletic of the two, Rathbone would profit the most.

With the change in the moral climate, certain pressure groups took it upon themselves to remonstrate against the debauchery that they witnessed on their cinema screens. Not for the first time, Hollywood would wilt under the stress and strain of a public backlash against their product and seek to appease them. Suitably chagrined, they took solace in the safety of classic literary fare. In 1934, MGM produced Treasure Island in 1934 and United Artists The Count of Monte Cristo, the former featured Bruce as Squire Trelawny. The following year, Rathbone got in on the act, too, with a murderous evocation of David Copperfield's cruel guardian, Edward Murdstone. His flogging of Freddie Bartholomew, in the role of the eponymous hero, was particularly gruelling to watch, but helped him win the role of the villain in several films that needed one, including his first swashbuckler, Captain Blood.

By chance, Warner Brothers had the film rights to Rafael Sabatini, the Italian-born English historical novelist, whose earlier work, The Sea Hawk, had already been made into a motion picture, at the height of the first swashbuckling craze in the silent era. Footage from the earlier film found its way into Captain Blood. Further economies were made through the employment of a young Australian drifter turned actor called Errol Flynn, the workaholic Hungarian director Michael Curtiz, Olivia de Havilland in her first film role, as Arabella, and a classical composer called Erich Wolfgang Korngold.

Unbeknown to them all, they had all hit on a winning formula that would culminate in the next picture that would use the same team, 1938's The Adventures of Robin Hood, but by then Flynn would already be a star. Within twenty years, still only fifty, his dissolute lifestyle would lead to an early death, but it would be the first of many movies that he would pack into a short career on the silver screen. And, Rathbone, already typecast as the dark, brooding, villain would be a match for him in deed, as well as word.

Flynn, a natural athlete, who had narrowly missed joining the Australian boxing team in 1932 for the Olympics, would be trained by Fred Cavens, graduate of the Belgian Military Institute by the age of eighteen and a professor of fencing three years later. He taught fencing in Europe and, in America, where he had emigrated with his wife. By the time he became trainer to Flynn and, by consequence, Rathbone, he had already worked with Fairbanks, the progenitor of the genre, since 1924. Cavens and Rathbone would work together on all four of the actor's most significant swordfights on screen. He admitted that Rathbone would probably not have done well in competition, but that for the purposes of on-screen entertainment, he had "excellent form". As regards duelling on the silver screen, Cavens conceded that Rathbone was "better than the best fencer in the world."

His experience, both on and off-screen, had taught him to be bold and innovative. "All movements," he surmised, "must be large," but "nevertheless correct." He realised that a screen duel must be a fight and not a fencing exhibition and that the final display should "leave an impression of strength, skill and manly grace."

During his London years, Rathbone had been a pupil of Felix Gravé and Felix Bertrand, so he was much more malleable for Cavens to train than the more recalcitrant Flynn. The bisexual Tasmanian-born soon-to-be movie star was more concerned with his foul-mouthed verbal exchanges with the Hungarian-born Curtiz, himself a horseman and former athlete, and bedding his female leading lady.

Set during the short, but eventful, reign of James II, also known to his detractors as James the Shit, Captain Blood is about a young Irish doctor and pacifist, played by the appropriately named Flynn, whose fate is sealed when he treats a wounded enemy leader. Transported to the West Indies and, after a series of fateful encounters, begins an adventuresome life as a pirate, teaming up with a fellow buccaneer, Captain Levasseur, yet another example of Rathbone's classical villains; despite a somewhat wayward accent, is the definitive French pirate. As both men have eyes for Arabella, conflict between them is sown early on.

Shot on California's Laguna Beach, hero and villain fought to the death in failing light, with a horrified Arabella on hand to witness the bloody outcome. This stylish fight was probably one of the best to grace the screen up that point in motion picture history, as well as being the high point of the film itself. The shot of the waves, as they wash over Lavasseur's body, is most effective, especially after some enthralling swordplay. As with many aspects of the shoot, there were problems with these vital scenes. One being a less than fit Flynn, as the rising star had suffered a recurrence of malaria contracted from his travels in Papua New Guinea.

Fighting with swords, even in the make-believe world of filmmaking can be a dangerous affair. So it would prove with this first scrap with Rathbone, as the beachside encounter gave cause for concern. The tide was coming in, making the rocks treacherous, and Flynn fell to his knees on two occasions and Rathbone caused a facial wound to his opponent's face, leaving a scar. Since Flynn's looks were part of the overall star package, he was less than pleased, also by Curtiz; who had instructed that the protective knob of Rathbone's sword be removed. This made Flynn hold back, so Curtiz hatched a plan to make his star retaliate. He drew Rathbone aside and whispered in his ear. Flynn and Rathbone restarted the fight, but not before the latter taunted him, allegedly, with the words: "I'm making forty-five hundred dollars a week more than you are, you dirty little Australian!" True or not, the fight recommenced, now with added vigour. The duel would be the climax of the film and pave Flynn's road to stardom – and eventual ruin – as he forced Rathbone's Frenchman to the edge of a cliff with the final words: "So ends a partnership that should never have begun."

Flynn also lacked discipline, in common with other aspects of his lifestyle that would contribute to his early demise. He looked the part but was "a wild man to fence." Curtiz, whose genius lay in his action sequences rather than the treatment of his actors, was in a hurry to wrap the sequence and clear the location. Extras had tried to talk Rathbone into "muffing" the fight so that they could earn another day's work. On top of all this pressure, the director had been told to fall backwards, when he was killed, onto a large rock at the edge of the water. Not only did Curtiz want the tide to wash back and forth over him, but he also wanted Rathbone to keep both eyes open, as he lay dead. Ever the professional, the actor complied with his director's instructions and maintained the pose. "I did it but it was excruciating. Try dunking yourself in the ocean sometime and not closing your eyes!"

Before he hooked up again with Flynn, Rathbone managed to revive his swordplaying skills on a Hollywood version of Shakespeare's greatest love story, albeit one with a sting in the tale: Romeo and Juliet. Reunited with George Cukor, who had encouraged him in his role as David Copperfield's sadistic stepfather, Murdstone, there was now a chance to play a role that would allow him his one and only chance to win a swordfight on screen. On stage, Rathbone had essayed the role of Romeo in hundreds of performances, but with his growing reputation as a screen villain, he would now take the role of Tybalt. The New York Times classed Rathbone as "a perfect devil of a Tybalt, fiery and quick to draw and an insolent flinger of challenges. No possible fault there."

Tybalt earned him an Academy Award nomination, although his appearance was rather brief, but it did allow him to battle with Reginald Denny, Leslie Howard's rather mature Romeo and John Barrymore. Sadly, Barrymore, along with Howard had doubles for their long shots, as Barrymore, who would have been a match for Rathbone in the past, had lost his way with a blade. As Mercutio, he had several entertaining moments, but was probably best in his death scene. As Lady Capulet's nephew, Rathbone's interpretation of Mercutio's assassin saw him envisage his character far from being the standard villain. "Tybalt is a man," he explained in an interview, "who lives by his sword. He kills Mercutio in defence of the honour and dignity of his family."

Barrymore had to be doubled by Cavens, as the great American actor no longer had the physical capabilities to live with Rathbone's speed and elegance. And, their duel is a masterpiece of film editing, as well as its two, or should that be, three participants? In his next role, and his last face-off with Flynn, honour and dignity would be in very short supply.

Flynn had become an overnight success, de Havilland's career, too, would skyrocket, encouragement no less for her sister and fellow actress Joan Fontaine. Korngold would contribute further soundtracks and Rathbone proceeded to carve out a short, but successful, career as Hollywood's most wanted villain. How could Warner Brothers top the box-office receipts of this swashbuckler? Simple, they looked to the silent era of Douglas Fairbanks and pulled out all the stops, as well as reconvening the same elements that had made the earlier film such a wow. For Flynn and Rathbone, there would be another fight to the death, but this would be the greatest of them all.

By the time that that shooting had begun on, what would become the high watermark of his film career, Flynn was already a household name. His whirlwind work schedule ensured that he was barely off the cinema screen for a moment. He may later have learned to downplay the quality of his work but it was earning him a good living and ensuring his fame, if not his notoriety, for ever and a day. His meteoric rise, however, failed to do much for his application to work, even though he was a natural athlete. Along with Bruce, he was a member of the Hollywood Cricket Club as well being a fine swimmer and tennis player, but he took his role as swashbuckler less seriously. He did little to improve his aptitude with a blade, unlike Rathbone. This, more than anything, demonstrated the gulf between the two actors. "We only crossed swords, never words, and he was generous and appreciative of my work," wrote Rathbone in his autobiography. "I liked him and he liked me."

Cavens continued to work with Rathbone, so the actor could hone his skills, whilst Flynn argued with Michael Curtiz, and his many attempts to bed Olivia de Havilland. And, despite it being filmed at the height of a Californian summer, augmented by artificial light of the technical department, almost boiling the cast and its hordes of extras alive, The Adventures of Robin Hood is one of the greatest swashbucklers, if not the best of its kind.

Shot in Technicolor, impressive sets and a bravura cast, that now included Alan Hale, the portly, humorous figure, who had appeared as the Captain of the Guard in yet another swashbuckler, the 1937 version of Mark Twain's children's classic The Prince and the Pauper. Unfortunately, their first encounter on screen, a duel in a wood, ended rather inauspiciously, as Flynn's character, Miles Hendon, a soldier of fortune runs Hale through with his sword. Despite this, Hale would accompany Flynn in a dozen films, from period pieces, war movies and westerns, mainly as his portly, roughneck of a sidekick. They appear together so often, they almost seem like a double-act, in as many films as Bruce and Rathbone.

When Douglas Fairbanks essayed the eponymous hero in 1922's Robin Hood, he copyrighted not only the screenplay, but also his ideas and locations. Fortunately, this allowed the studio's researchers and scriptwriters to bring in elements that Fairbanks had failed to include in what many of the critics and cinema buffs considered was a classic that would be unsurpassed. This left the way to bring fight with staves on the narrow bridge with Hale's Little John, one of the few participants of the earlier film, to be cast not in a remake as such, but more a cinematic left turn. It also meant a more prissy, if slightly more camp, Prince John and no Sheriff of Nottingham, but the real villain of the piece: Sir Guy of Gisbourne.

As the studio began to pull out the stops, Flynn's fame started to go to his head, with many of the on-set dilemmas centred on his ego. One of the first casualties was the original director, William Keighley, who had objected to Flynn's beard, as he believed it would be detrimental to the box-office, by causing offence to the star's female fanbase. After three weeks of filming, Keighley was gone and replaced by Curtiz, even though he and Flynn hated each other's guts. Rathbone, too, had his moments with the obdurate leading man.

During their first rehearsal, Rathbone brought up the subject of money. "I suppose you'll be satisfied now you're earning more than me, you dirty little Aussie!" Errol countered with aspersions on his co-star's sexual orientation: "Never mind, sport. You're still getting to suck more dicks than me!"

It appeared to be their antagonism was more jocular, than real, but there may have been a certain element of truth in their playful animosity. "I don't know much about fencing," wrote Flynn, "but I know how to make it look good." In his autobiography, he confessed, somewhat falsely, that he did all his own stunts. As part of his deal to direct the film, Curtiz brought in Fred Cavens to choreograph the fight sequences, and it would be Flynn rather than Rathbone who would have the double.

Undoubtedly, the climax of the film is their duel on the stone spiral staircase of Nottingham Castle, as they trade blows with broadswords. Cavens had coached them in a technique that had not been used in England until the seventeenth century, but Hollywood has never been a stickler for historical accuracy. As Korngold's musical accomplishment highlights the clash of steel, Robin and Gisbourne still manage to duel as much with rapier wits as their broadswords. In their final contest, Robin sneers: "Did I upset your plans?" "You've come to Nottingham once too often!" snaps back a snarling, imperious Sir Guy. To which, Robin replies: "When this is over, my friend, there'll be no need for me to come again!" And, at that, our hero's blade plunges into the villain's heart. Within minutes, the balance of the world is restored.

With Curtiz employed every visual aid, whether it was scenery or props, as well as light. Their shadows loom large on a pillar, as their blades clash, as they come together in a corps-a-corps, as well as covering a huge amount of ground, during the course of the fight. Blades lock over a table, dance around columns, dash up and down the impressive spiral staircase, demolishing candelabras and furniture in the melee. Lunges, parries and other fencing techniques that were not employed, until centuries later, were used in the routine. Broadswords were historically appropriate, as the period is meant to be late twelfth century but liberties were taken with the actual swordmanship. All in all, it allowed to Flynn and Rathbone to build on their previous scrap, improve and extend upon that earlier encounter. Unfortunately, there can only be one victor in these contests, but Sir Guy's demise is well executed, as he drops from the staircase to his death.

They managed to film the duel with the minimum of doubling, which put the lie to Flynn's claim that he did all his own stunts. Fred Graham, who doubled for Flynn, injured his foot during the fight on the staircase, then later plunged from a balcony to the studio floor, as he filmed Gisbourne's death. Graham ended up in hospital, because of it. Flynn had even had a double for the scenes of the archery competition, as Curtiz had brought in champion bowman Howard Hill. Rathbone incurred injuries, too, when filming Robin's escape from the castle, he fell to the floor and was trampled underfoot by the extras. On another occasion, a spear, accidentally, struck him in the foot and he required several stitches.

Over the years, there have been many swordfights in world cinema, some have equalled Flynn and Rathbone's final screen duel, but none have bettered it. Clad in Lincoln Green, with that man-boy enthusiasm, roguish charm and animal athleticism, Flynn was Robin Hood. It was his finest hour, as an actor, star and icon. Whereas Rathbone's career would soon land the role of a lifetime, Flynn would never capture the glory of his most iconic role. Even with all the success, and no matter what he said in the future, he still managed to earn two thousand dollars a week less than Rathbone.

If Flynn had a rival as Hollywood's leading swashbuckler, it would have to be Tyrone Power. Whereas his acting ability belied his easy charm, ready wit and way with the ladies, Power was a serious thespian. Both sides of his family had theatrical connections, but it was more down to his dashing Irish-American good looks that he landed in the films. His beauty made him popular, but it also meant that he was undervalued for his acting abilities, much to his chagrin. Before his untimely death, he like Flynn would not see out his fiftieth decade, as he suffered a cardiac arrest, rather ironically during a fight scene, in his last film. Of his finest films was 1940's The Mark of Zorro, yet another vehicle of Douglas Fairbanks. And, yet again, it would be Basil Rathbone who would play Power's nemesis, Captain Esteban Pasquale.

Their sabre duel is considered "the finest example of movie swordplay Hollywood has ever produced." And, this by Nick Evangelista's Encyclopedia of the Sword, himself a pupil of Ralph Faulkner, another one of the great fencing masters to double for some of the swordsmen of the screen. Rathbone described Power as "the most agile man with a sword I've ever faced before a camera"; sadly, the truth was somewhat more callous. Albert, Cavens' son, had to double for Power, because the actor lacked the athletic ability to convince as a duellist, therefore, undermined the fight scenes. Rathbone needed no double and even donned a pair of high, stiff boots to accentuate his movements, especially the lunge. The studio, Twentieth Century Fox, had hoped for Power to become the Latin version of Robin Hood, as they had even employed Eugene Pallette as Fray Felipe, Friar Tuck in all but name.

Now on the wrong side of forty years of age, the studio queried Rathbone's competence as a fencer, alarmed that he would be performing his own stunts. Fred Cavens allayed their fears and simply declared that Rathbone may not have done well in competition but for the purposes of the picture he "is better than the best fencer in the world." Power, in contrast, lacked the physical presence that Fairbanks used to his advantage, but the 1940 remake is superior, due to its direction by Rouben Mamoulian. Also, Power had an engaging on-screen charisma that allowed him to portray the hero, as well as the fop. In some ways, Zorro is much a Scarlet Pimpernel as he is Robin Hood.

Unfortunately, the film had one significant flaw, as the villain, Captain Pasquale, is killed less than half an hour before the story's end. Rathbone's character is the only real opposition to Zorro, as Quintero, the evil mastermind of the piece, is a fool and hardly a worthy foe to shakedown Power. For Rathbone, however, Pasquale was an evolution from Gisbourne, a man both intelligent and dangerous. Variety concurred: "Supporting Power in the starring role is a competent cast, with Rathbone and Bromberg [who played Don Luis Quintero] particularly effective as the villainous officials." The New York Times added that there was "one jim-dandy duel between Mr Power and the villainous Basil Rathbone, which ends about as juicily as anyone could wish."

If the last twenty minutes had not been such an anti-climax, although it still remains a very good example of the genre, Pasquale would have to be Rathbone's finest screen villain. Lean, with a thin moustache that contributed to a permanent scowl, his soldier of fortune seldom seen without his trusty blade: "Some men toy with their canes, monocles or snuff boxes. I toy with my sword."

Even, and as early as this, in the swashbuckling genre, scriptwriters picked up on the ludicrousness anachronisms and choreographed extravagances of the screen duel. "Dashing about with a cutlass is quite out of fashion...." Power states as Zorro, "It hasn't been done since the Middle Ages."

By the time Rathbone worked on 1944's Frenchman's Creek, an adaptation of Daphne du Maurier's novel, it would be the leading man, Arturo de Cordova, who would take the lead in the fight scenes. Aldo Nadi, the Italian fencing master and Olympic competitor, whose arrogance would fail to endear him to Hollywood, trained de Cordova and not Rathbone, even though he was the prime villain of the piece. Joan Fontaine, Olivia de Havilland's sister, dispatches Rathbone's Lord Rockingham without the need for a blade. And, the prime interest of the film would be the only time that Rathbone and Bruce would feature in the same film, but not as Holmes and Watson.

From now, if Rathbone ever picked up a sword in a film, it would now be strictly for laughs. First, a little skirmish with Bob Hope, mistaken for the greatest lover of all time, and Danny Kaye, one of Hollywood's most gifted comic actors.

Just as soon as swashbucklers had become fashionable, they were as quickly consigned to history as yesterday's news. After the war, the genre picked up, this time with the help of British actors, such as Stewart Granger, who had decamped to Hollywood. By the time, Rathbone reappeared, after an absence of nearly ten years, he was reduced to being stooge to one of America's most successful comedians of the twentieth century.

Bob Hope, whose family had emigrated in the early part of the twentieth century from Britain, had been a stand-up comedian, who had made the transition from stage to screen. By 1954, he was one of the big box-office draws, with his screen persona of the cowardly womaniser firmly implanted in the public psyche. It would be Casanova's Big Night, one of Hope's less well-received comedies that would draw Rathbone back to Hollywood. In the meantime, he had sold his house in Beverly Hills, moved to New York and returned to his first love, the theatre.

Despite lavish sets, colourful costumes and a supporting cast that included John Carradine, Lon Chaney Jr and Joan Fontaine, the film was one of Hope's misfires. Rathbone had been reduced to being Hope's stooge, as he played the twin role of the film's narrator, as well as Casanova's valet, Lucio. As the great lover's servant, he helps maintain the illusion that Hope's character, a tailor's assistant, is Casanova, the real one having absconded to avoid his creditors. The film does have a fight with swords, but only as part of an alternate ending, and Hope is at the centre at it, not Rathbone. His involvement was acknowledged by the film's star: "Character actors like him make entertainers like myself look good on the screen."

A more successful parody of the swashbuckler was 1955's The Court Jester with another of Hollywood's leading comic actors, Danny Kaye. Where the previous film had many of the same elements, the script burlesqued the Robin Hood myth for all its worth, and its star was ably supported by a cast, also made of British supporting artistes, including a rejuvenated Rathbone. This time, he would be at the centre of the action, as he reprised his villainous screen past, as Sir Ravenhurst, henchman of the usurper King Roderick, who is put to death by the unlikely hero, Hubert Hawkins, an on-form Danny Kaye. As a cowardly dolt, who through magical hypnosis, is transformed into a brilliant swordsman, he delivered a killer blow to the monarch's evil minister. This time Rathbone would have to be doubled, by an actor turned stuntman, and not the lead.

Unlike his European counterparts, Cavens and Nadi, Ralph Faulkner had been born in States and travelled to Hollywood at the height of the Silent Era. He had appeared alongside Mary Astor, Ronald Colman and Marion Davies, but his screen career nearly came to an abrupt end when he was injured and sustained an injury to his left leg. In order to rehabilitate, he took up fencing and developed an unexpected passion that led to him being a competitor in at least two Olympic Games and a second career as a fencer and stuntman. He also established his own salle, or fencing school, Falcon Studios. Early on, he learned to choreograph fight sequences with Fred Cavens, but would come to rival him and compete for jobs. Faulkner worked with all the greats, including Errol Flynn, but his personal favourite of all the films he was involved with was The Court Jester.

Written and directed by Norman Panama and Melvin Frank, who had worked with Bob Hope, they had worked out the mechanics of the swashbuckler and lovingly lampooned the genre for all its worth. And, who better to play the villainous henchman, then Basil Rathbone, Sir Guy of Gisbourne himself. "Basil's roles in movies like Robin Hood and Zorro," said Kaye, "made him the obvious choice to play our dastardly Sir Ravenhurst."

Fred Cavens had worked on the Hope debacle, but for the duel with Hawkins and Ravenhurst, on the battlements of the castle, was choreographed by an American fencing master, Ralph Faulkner. Before Rathbone met another untimely death, he would meet his match in more ways than one, as Kaye was a quick learner. With the aid of Faulkner as his on-screen nemesis, Kaye, who had little knowledge of fighting with a rapier, after two weeks, he could outfight Rathbone. Due to the comic nature of the fight, Rathbone had to be doubled, despite his skill levels still being high, but the fact that "Danny's movements were just too quick for him." Safety first was the key, as Kaye's character had to parry a number of cuts to head and legs with his eyes closed. Another piece of the action involved Hawkins, as he poured wine into a glass whilst fencing with his opponent. And, despite all Kaye's distractions, Sir Ravenhurst is still killed, but as the Hollywood Reporter surmised: "Basil Rathbone is all that could be desired as a villainous straight man."

A little while after the film had been released, Rathbone took a foil lesson at his club in Hollywood, as two onlookers. Each time he came close to the pair of fencers, they would intone, in honour of one of the film's running gags: "Get it? Got it. Good." Eventually, Rathbone could stand it no more, flung off his mask and turned to the couple of old fencing hands: "Please stop it."

He had been dispatched not once but twice by Errol Flynn as well as by Tyrone Power, but of all the duellists he had faced on the screen, his best opponent had probably one of Hollywood's greatest comic actors, Danny Kaye.

Sherlock Holmes may have made him recognisable to millions around the globe, but he can lay claim to being one of the best villains in Hollywood. His skill with a sword, allied to a lean body, sonorous speaking voice with the occasional slice of theatrical ham, made him a worthy adversary. Jokingly, he claimed that he could have ruined the plots of all those swashbucklers, easily dispatching the hero, as he was clearly so much better than they were. By the time, he squared up to Kaye, in his later years, perhaps not, but possibly with Flynn and, most definitely, with Power.

© Howard Watson 2009