Dancing Pirate – a weird little fever dream

Right, so Dancing Pirate. A 1936 film that isn’t exactly popping up on anyone’s “best of” lists, but, you know what? I have a real soft spot for old-school musicals, and this one is just oddball enough to stick in your head like the chorus from Sommartider. It stars Charles Collins, who, let’s face it, I had to google before watching. Not exactly a household name like “Fred Astaire” back home in Sundbyberg, but apparently he could really kick up his heels.

The director, Lloyd Corrigan, was one of those guys who seemed to be everywhere in old Hollywood. You see his name pop up in all sorts of films from the 30s and 40s, like when you’re watching a svensk deckare and half the cast are in Wallander too.

I remember the first time I caught a bit of Dancing Pirate. It must have been, eh, around ‘97, at my mormor’s place – she had that battered black-and-white TV with a volume knob that only worked if you smacked it. I was barely listening, mostly picking at a kanelbulle, when suddenly the music hits and they’re all pratfalling around in puffy shirts. It’s bright, silly Technicolor (sorta, at least for the ’30s), and campy as a Svenska revy.

There’s a weird mix of pirate clichés and tap-dancing that kind of leaves you going, “Wait, what’s happening?” The plot is, uh, thin? But the costumes are bananas, and Steffi Duna brings more energy than you’d expect for a story this daft.

I’d say: grab a fika, keep your expectations chill, and just let yourself laugh at how bonkers American musicals were once, before everything turned gritty and self-serious. Maybe it’s not a film to study, but it’s a film to smile with – even if you roll your eyes more than once.

watch the full movie on Mavshack Movies on YouTube

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