Movies were made differently then. The stars, most of whom did not use their own names, were under contract to studios, studios run by the original "mad men" (nothing to do with advertising) and it was all about volume, not quality. The stars were expected to churn out so many "pictures" a year, and if one or more actually turned out to be memorable, that was merely a bonus. Into the mix comes Lancaster, one of the most physical actors ever to work in Tinseltown (former acrobat), a bunch of second-stringers, and voila you have the template which years later Johnny Depp would use so effectively to spoof the genre. Plot? What plot? It's about rip-roaring fun from the first scene to the last, and Lancaster delivers. He really could act, you know, but this film simply requires him to have fun and bring the audience along for the ride. One of the best of its kind. The sad thing was watching Lancaster age in the years to follow. Moreso than others of the era, he hated getting old because his work was so heavily based on his sheer physical presence.
Review of The Crimson Pirate
