Son of Sinbad

In Baghdad, Omar Khayyam (Vincent Price) is looking for his friend Sinbad (Dale Robertson), the son of Sinbad the Sailor. Sinbad sneaks into the Khalif's palace despite Omar's warning that he has a price on his head. Sinbad and Omar are captured. Greek scholar Simon Aristides and his daughter Kristina, Sinbad's childhood friend, are also brought before the Khalif. They have the formula for Greek Fire. Tamerlane threatens to invade and Murad is his ambassador.

This feels like a B-movie but the production is bigger than that. It's got that Technicolor gaudiness. It's the 50's version of Arabia. It's great to have Vincent Price but Sinbad is rather dull. There are plenty of beautiful ladies but the characters are not that interesting. It's not quite camp and it's definitely not good.

Fans of Howard Hughes will appreciate this colorful little gem -- but even if you haven't got the slightest interest in the famous capitalist, there's a lot in this lost classic to grin at. Allow me to adjust your expectations. . .

Imagine how many lovely starlets must have said to the amorous billionaire, `Gee, Howard, I'd do just ANYTHING to get into motion pictures!'

Well . . . they DID it -- and Howard made this one to satisfy all those promises he made to seventy or eighty gorgeous, desperate young ladies who wanted to break into the movies. Okay, sure, the plot is weak, but it moves along moderately well, and the true stars of this Arabian Nights tale (Howard's harem of young starlets) are given plenty of chances to strut their stuff.

For example: the first ten minutes of the film are dedicated to a slinky belly dancer who wiggles and jiggles for costar Vincent Price. Price plays poet Omar Khayyam, the loyal comic side-kick of Sinbad, played wonderfully tongue-in-cheek by Dale Robertson. Price contributes a wealth of humorous moments, doing dead-pan double takes at Robertson's single-minded pursuit of amorous conquests.

Think of this as Howard Hughes' personal fantasy, with Robertson portraying the Arabian alter-ego of America's most notorious girl-chasing billionaire.

Sexy Sally Forrest is captivating as the girl who steals Sinbad's heart. The provocative dance she does for Robertson near the end of the film is extremely daring for 1955. Lovely Mari Blanchard (star of `She Devil' and `Abbott and Costello Go to Mars') sweetens the scenery with her attractive presence. Lilli St. Cyr is positively slinky as the Arabian ruler's main squeeze who has a yen for Sinbad.

The production has other strong points besides the girls. The rousing music is by veteran composer Victor Young. Famous 1950s voice-man Paul Frees has a brief but funny role in the opening scenes as a fortune teller. In fact, the cast is loaded with notable character actors who make this low budget (but slick-looking) production a joy to watch. Don't blink or you'll miss Woody Strode in a very brief role as a harem guard!

But there's no denying the fact this is a girl-watcher's movie. Anyone who makes an honest effort to count the number of gorgeous girls in the cast will agree that there has never been a film packed with more pretty faces ( -- etc.). If you doubt this claim, go to IMDBs' `full cast and crew' and count the number of young ladies listed as `raiders' in the cast. These are the daughters of the `Forty Thieves' of Arabian legend -- and there's almost fifty of them in the cast, alone! Add to this a herd of harem girls and other lovlies, and the result is a girl-watcher's extravaganza, unequaled in Hollywood!

You might not be thrilled by the plot, but if wall-to-wall babes can hold your interest, this one won't bore you.

P.S. If you're hankerin' for a suitable second feature to match this unique film, try `Princess of the Nile', starring a young and breath-taking Debra Pageant. Trust me, you won't be disappointed.

Son of Sinbad is a dull film, more or less only watchable at scan speed. But what redeems this film is the performances by some of the top names in burlesque during the 1950s. A big thanks to Howard Hughes and those responsible for making this film. Burlesque Queen Lili St. Cyr is breathtakingly beautiful, and wears some of the most glamorous and lavish costumes seen in any harem-themed movie. Wonderful exotic dancing sequences featuring Nejla Ates and Kalantan make this film a must-see for fans of burlesque. Unfortunately, there's no stiptease here, but Son of Sinbad features a bevy of beauties in colorful costumes that make for some delectable eye-candy. There's no doubt the girls are the main attraction here, with a little story, plot, and action built around them.

Sally Forrest's lush legs are wonderfully on display in a dance scene where she appears "Almost Nude!" Yummy. Corny but colorful not-so-serious adventure is enhanced by a dance scene that tends to tip it's hand to strip club dancing (complete with pole!) This segment is not as polished as her dance scene in "Excuse My Dust!" but she shows a lot more skin. Once again: Yummy!

Back when I first saw this, I was enchanted by the verses of Omar Khayyam (which I innocently supposed to be have been created for the script), excited by the spectacle, delighted to recognise allusions to so many familiar stories rolled into one, and heartily entertained by the comedy. Watching it again nowadays, I can't help noticing how the picture is completely dominated by the producer's desire to feature as many half-naked girls as can conceivably be shovelled into its slender plot.

Thanks to the engaging double-act of the two male leads (Vincent Price as Omar still steals the show) the film remains a watchable romp, but the extended dancing sequences threaten to wreck the otherwise brisk pacing. I suspect they either pall or enthral, according to taste. Where other "Sinbad" films will show you a few seconds of exotic dance as an establishing shot, this one lovingly retains the camera throughout the whole routine -- or several!

The heavy mining from other sources of legend -- whether the secret of Greek Fire (nowadays assumed to have been napalm), the conqueror Tamerlaine, the tale of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, or well-known lines from the Rubaiyat -- also now tends to suggest a certain laziness in the writing of the script, rather than inspiring a delighted recognition of familiar allusions. I'm afraid I'm probably too sophisticated these days to be able to enjoy "Son of Sinbad" whole-heartedly any longer... which in a way is a shame. It's still a lively adventure with a saving sense of the absurd and an unabashed penchant for spectacle, but I can't in all honesty rank it above the rest.