*****AHOY! GIANT SQUID-SIZED SPOILERS!*****

I’ve not read the classic 1870s Jules Verne novel “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” (“Vingt Mille Lieues sous les mers”) in decades, but I remember enough of it to know that the book survives reasonably well in its epic 1954 Disney incarnation, despite some obvious upfront ‘Disneyfictaion.’ The episodic adventures of its complex activist/avenger/antihero Captain Nemo aboard his advanced submarine Nautilus, with ‘guests’ Professor Pierre Aronnax, manservant Conseil, and harpoonist Ned Land, burst into colorful life for this early live-action Disney adventure. 

The Disney version of “20,000 Leagues…” wasn’t the first adaptation of the Jules Verne novel; that distinction came in 1905, with a short silent film by Wallace McCutcheon, followed by a 1907 short called “Under the Seas,” by filmmaker Georges Méliès, the father of sci-fi cinema (“A Trip to the Moon,” based loosely on the works of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells).  The most ‘complete’ adaptation prior to 1954 came with the 1916 feature length silent version (directed by Stuart Paton and produced by legendary Universal Horror producer Carl Laemmle), which ran 105 minutes, and had various underwater scenes tinted in blue or green in those pre-Technicolor days.

There’ve been other adaptations since 1954, including a 1997 TV miniseries, but none have been so breathtakingly beautiful and colorful as director Richard (“Soylent Green”) Fleischer’s 1954 film, which poured serious money into making the best possible version they could ($5 million was a huge sum in 1954 dollars). This included marshaling real acting talent, with James Mason (“North by Northwest,” “Lolita,”) as the antihero Captain Nemo, Kirk Douglas (“Spartacus,” “Ace in the Hole,”) as working class harpoonist/whaler Ned Land, Paul Lukas (“Berlin Express,”) as Professor Pierre Aronnax, and horror mainstay Peter Lorre (“M,” “Comedy of Terrors,”) as Aronnax’s faithful assistant, Conseil.

Having been born a dozen years after the December 1954 premiere of this film, I grew up watching it on television, back when a typical TV screen was around 25 inches (63 cm) or so. It wasn’t until I bought an HD digital projector and 7 ft/2 meter rollout screen a few years ago that I’ve ever felt fully immersed in this amazing movie. It made a world of difference enjoying this film on a big screen in the dark.  Suddenly it became more like going on a ride at Disneyland. In fact, the movie has a strong Disneyland attraction-vibe to it, even though it debuted about six months before Disneyland first opened in Anaheim, California.

For this review, I will forgo my usual plot synopsis; simply captioning the photos and adding my notes/observations, before ‘Summing It Up’ at the end. With that out of the way, let’s take a ‘deep-dive’ (pun fully intended) into…

“20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” (1954)

Note: The dead giveaway that the “sea monster” is a mechanical construct comes from the high-pitched engine sounds we hear as it approaches ramming speed. The miniature effects of the Nautilus ramming its targets on an open sea are simply amazing, especially considering the difficulties involved with miniaturizing water.  The filming miniatures of the ships had to be much larger than you’d think, as illustrated a few paragraphs above with my own photo of the Nautilus miniature; that ‘miniature’ was over 11 feet long (3.3 meters) and weighed around 1,000 lbs (450+ kg). 

Note: The scenes of 1866 San Francisco (a change of venue from the book’s New York City) were filmed on the Universal Studios’ Old West backlot, since Disney was relatively new to live-action filmmaking at this point, and had to borrow backlots when needed. Legendary multiple Oscar-winning actor Kirk Douglas (1916-2020), who played Ned Land (a Canadian character in the book), is, of course, the father of Oscar-winning actor/producer Michael Douglas, who would first gain fame in the early 1970s, costarring in the TV crime-drama series “The Streets of San Francisco.”  The ‘heroic’ blue-collar character of harpooner-whaler Ned Land would most likely be a villain today, given the many international laws now (mercifully) prohibiting the slaughter of whales and other endangered marine life.

Note: Sophisticated Hungarian actor Paul Lukas played French Professor Pierre Aronnax with only a slight suspension of disbelief, while fellow Hungarian and former horror star Peter Lorre (“M” “The Raven”) played his Flemish assistant, Conseil. “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” wouldn’t be Lorre’s only major undersea adventure film, as the actor would later costar as ‘Commander Lucius Emery’ in producer-director Irwin Allen’s 1961 undersea epic, “Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea,” which would later be turned into a successful TV series (sans Lorre) from 1964 to 1968.

Note: The movie incorporates real shots of surfacing whales and dolphins (both commonly spotted off the California coast) and other marine life, including later underwater shots of various fish, crustaceans, sea turtles, and even a shark. This footage, especially when presented in widescreen splendor (and with actors/stuntmen appearing in the scenes), really imparts a sense of authenticity that dry-for-wet shots on smoke-lit sets and studio water tanks just can’t deliver.  70 years ago, this was “The Abyss” of 1950s cinema. It still impresses today, in fact. 

Note: This being a family-friendly Disney movie (well before Disney acquired the R-rated “ALIEN” franchise, of course), one might expect—and even forgive—certain liberties taken with Verne’s more somber source novel.  While the book’s 19th century setting is lovingly preserved (this isn’t steampunk; it’s a period piece), some of the added Disney-isms include affable sailor Ned Land strumming his guitar while singing “A Whale of a Tale” for the crew, which is not exactly from the book. The song, which was actually sung by actor Kirk Douglas, was included in the movie’s LP soundtrack, too. Famed Disney composer Paul Smith (“Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” “Pinocchio,” “The Magical World of Disney”) created the film’s musical score.

Note: Once again, excellent use of miniatures and pyrotechnics with the Abraham Lincoln arriving to witness the destruction of another naval vessel (its armament cargo providing the explosives), as the fireballs on the darkened waters of the ocean are spectacular. The Oscar-winning special effects of the movie were credited to John Hench and Joshua Meador. Other deserved Oscars would be given to the movie for editing (Elmo Williams) and art direction (John Meehan, Emile Kuri).

Note: The scenes of Aronnax, Conseil and later Ned Land boarding the seemingly deserted Nautilus following the crippling ramming of their ship were shot on the water tank set of Universal Studios, which was also famously used in the waterlogged franchise flick “JAWS: The Revenge” (1987) as well as the Oscar-nominated comedy-drama “The Truman Show” (1998). I’ve seen this tank set on the Universal Studios backlot tour, and the rear skyline ‘wall’ looks surprisingly fake and flat in real-life, though it’s often cleverly cheated by fog, lighting and other diffusing effects to hide its shallow perspective.  Movie magic, folks…

Note: The scene of Aronnax and Conseil touring the seemingly deserted Nautilus is a great opportunity for us—the audience—to soak in the magnificent Oscar-wining production design and beautifully appointed sets of the vessel’s interiors without the distraction of other elements in frame. We are seeing this elegant, Victorian-era submarine as the characters are. The set pieces of the Nautilus, as well as the remains of the movie’s giant squid prop (more on that later) were displayed at Disneyland through the late 1960s, but apparently, were later taken down and rumored to be destroyed; if true, it was a crime against cinema history. These were Oscar-winning set pieces, meticulously designed and created, and the thought of them being indiscriminately tossed into a Disneyland dumpster is heartbreaking.

Note: The Nautilus’ main parlor area, complete with a pipe organ, bar, lounging chairs, and a large viewing portal, is, without exaggeration, one of the most beautifully appointed sci-fi sets I’ve ever seen. The portal effectively conveys the illusion of being underwater with swirling blue and turquoise lighting effects, as well as optical matting for forward-facing shots.  Watching the movie once again for this review, I wanted to vicariously walk through those lovingly-crafted sets. I would really love to see this set recreated as a walk-in attraction for Disney resort parks again someday, even if they don’t have or can’t find any original pieces. 

Note: The scene of Aronnax, Conseil and Land locating the missing crew of the Nautilus outside the ship burying one of their own on the ocean floor is taken straight from the novel, though, if I remember correctly, it occurred much later in the book. The diving suits used in the scene (and throughout the film) were actual, functional diving suits with weighted ankles to allow actors to walk on the ocean floor. Retro-styled flourishes were added to the suits to make them look more Victorian-era. Scenes with the divers underwater were shot off the Bahamas, where shallow, bright blue waters offered a more practical venue for filmmakers (the 1916 silent version was shot there as well, as are many other underwater movies). This literal ‘burial at sea’ even featured a cross (adorned with seaweed-for-flowers) to act as a grave marker. Such details of the Nautilus crew’s life under the ocean surface are well realized. 

Note: The scene where the returning Nautilus crew capture the trespassing Aronnax, Conseil and Land is our first introduction to Captain Nemo (James Mason), who is not quite the book’s description of a former Indian slave (whitewash casting was much more prevalent in those days), though James Mason makes the role his own. The character of Nemo is not entirely unsympathetic, either. His acts of oceanic terrorism are (to his thinking) a form of activism against humanity’s deadly war machines, which he sees as intruding upon the peaceful domain of the sea. To that end, he uses the Nautilus as a more radical and violent means of environmental activism, like a weaponized Greenpeace. 

Note: While Nemo welcomes fellow scientist Aronnax, he condemns Ned and Conseil to death for their intrusion aboard his ship, and has them lashed to the tail of the submarine as it slowly descends—a fate that Aronnax chooses for himself as well. Instead of letting the three die, Nemo halts the execution by drowning. Aronnax’s willingness to sacrifice himself and share his friends’ fate gave Nemo exactly what he’d hope to see when he ‘tested’ the three of them. 

Note: We see the more open-minded Professor Aronnax gaining more of his captor’s trust at this point in the story, and he’s rewarded by Nemo with increased privileges aboard the ship; he’s even offered a seaweed-based smoke. Though I’m a non-smoker, I wonder what kinds of carcinogens, if any, one might ingest from smoking seaweed for tobacco? According to answers I’ve read online (taken with many grains of salt), people who’ve allegedly tried it say the seaweed burns more coal-like than ash; and that the effects of smoking it left them without any kind of “buzz,” though the thicker smoke created left them dizzy from inhalation.  Not my idea of after dinner relaxation, thanks… 

Note: I have sooo many questions about the ocean floor farm we catch glimpses of during the crew’s ‘harvest’ scenes. First off, how is the harvested food processed?  Earlier in the film, we get a glimpse of the Nautilus’ galley, but it doesn’t look any more equipped for mass food refinement than any other 19th century ship’s galley.  Secondly, how are other creatures of the sea kept away from the Nemo crew’s harvest yields? Even in land based farming, random wild animals, blight, and insect infestations are common-enough hazards, so I can’t even imagine the hassles of ocean farming. Granted it’s only a movie based on a book, but in the 70 years since this film, I’m sure researchers have looked into all of this? If any readers have answers or even speculations, please share them in the comment threads below.

Note: Ned, one of our ‘heroes,’ typifies human greed for material things (that Nemo has eschewed) by attempting to steal some sunken treasure from a wrecked ship on the ocean floor near the Nautilus’ farm. Once again reinforcing that Nemo is not your typical movie antagonist, he reprimands Ned and his partner-in-looting Conseil for their greed and shortsightedness by showing them a massive treasury aboard the Nautilus pulled from many wrecks, which the Nautilus uses only for ballast. This is quite a blow to capitalism and materialism that feels somewhat more timely nowadays, as oligarchs and increasing wealth inequality are setting people at each other’s throats. With the distance of 70 years, viewers today might easily see Nemo as the movie’s true hero (an anti-capitalist who eschews materialism beyond personal comforts), and Ned Land as its villain (particularly his career of slaughtering marine mammals). 

Note: Famed German composer Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) wrote the famed organ piece “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” (exact date unknown), and it’s been a favorite of mine to play every year for my own Halloween ‘haunted house’ setup (except for this year—I forgot!). The piece first became famous for horror cinema when used as the opening credits theme of 1931’s “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” starring Fredric March (“Inherit the Wind”). It was also used for “The Black Cat” (1934), starring Boris Karloff (“Frankenstein”) and Bela Lugosi (“Dracula”). In addition to its appropriate use for Captain Nemo, as he prepares for further acts of vengeance, it was also used somewhat less congruously for the opening of 1975’s sci-fi sports dystopia, “Rollerball.”

Note: Despite his offenses, we see Ned Land also gaining his own (somewhat less-than-authorized) access to the ship.  We even see him cobble together a ukulele from shells and other bits found around the ship. Ned also befriends Nemo’s pet sea lion, Esmeralda, who later joins him in a jam session later on by clapping and barking on cue.  Contrary to some beliefs, Esmeralda is not a seal; sea lions and seals admittedly look similar, but there are differences. Living not too far from the California coastline, I’ve seen many California sea lions up close, especially on nearby Catalina Island (where my wife honeymooned, and where we go as often as possible).

Note: In the book, the Nautilus’ motive power came from powerful batteries, whereas the movie’s version is clearly atomic; something alluded to in Aronnax’s log, when he notes that Nemo has somehow harnessed the “primal forces” of the universe for his ship; a force that Nemo is reluctant to share with the rest of the world, giving the complicated character a Robert Oppenheimer-esque quality. The scene of Nemo showing Aronnax the atomic power plant is very similar to a scene from 1956’s “Forbidden Planet,” where Professor Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) shows Commander JJ Adams (Leslie Nielsen) the source of the extinct Krell race’s incomprehensible energy (and they had to wear protective visors to view it, too; just like Aronnax). The unearthly throb of the Nautilus’ engines is similar to the “hydro-magneto drive” sound effect used for the titular submarine of 1990’s “The Hunt for Red October,” which was based on the 1984 Tom Clancy novel.

Note: The stealthy arrival of the Nautilus at the penal colony of Rura Penthe (based on the real penal colony of Ross Island) sheds a lot of light on Nemo’s past, as well as what fuels his desire for vengeance and justice. Nemo represents the oppressed cry of the enslaved, and he used his intelligence and ruthlessness to recruit other prisoners to help him build the Nautilus to seek revenge. Like Aronnax, I don’t condone murder (even of amoral people), but Nemo’s wrath against the colonizers who enslaved him is certainly understandable. This scene continues to reshape this so-called ‘villain’ into someone more sympathetic, particularly in this century (i.e, the recent uprising in Syria against that nation’s own murderous leader, Bashar al-Assad). The name of Rura Penthe (aka the ‘white man’s graveyard’ ) was also incongruously used as the name of a Klingon penal colony (aka the ‘alien’s graveyard’) in “Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country” (1991).

Note: Following the destruction of the munitions cargo ship leaving Rura Penthe, the movie reveals an even more personal reason for Nemo to destroy the cargo ship; the vessel was from the same county that tortured his wife and son to death in exchange for Nemo’s technological secrets, which presumably would be exploited for warfare. That about clinches it for me, as far as motivation goes.  Once again, I don’t condone murder, but the reasons behind Nemo’s actions (personal revenge, stopping aggressors, oceanic ecology) could easily make him a hero if this story were adapted once again for cinemas today. 

Note: The one thing I’ve never liked about this otherwise impeccably-made film is the scene with the New Guinean islander headhunters, who are portrayed as the stereotypical “black savages” too often seen in so many badly-dated movies. This horribly racist scene (a sad product of its time) was not in Jules Verne’s original book, either, and is not necessary. Moving on…

Note: The animated effects of the giant deepwater squid being electrocuted by the miniature Nautilus were executed by the same optical artists who were loaned out to MGM to animate the outline of the unseen ‘Id’ Monster from 1956’s classic sci-fi opus “Forbidden Planet.”

Note: The scene of the monster squid attack was an interesting way of saving on budget while still providing a showstopper of an action scene.  In the original novel, the Nautilus was attacked by multiple large squids, as opposed to a single giant squid. Obviously, multiple squids presented extreme logistical and budgetary challenges, but one massive creature could still make for an effective scene. The scene was actually filmed twice. The first attempt saw the crew fighting the monstrous attacking cephalopod on a relatively calm sea at dusk, but this somewhat less eventful mise-en-scène highlighted the prop squid’s lack of realism. 

Note: The second attempt at shooting the squid attack was filmed in the water tank at ‘night’ (a darker indoor lighting scheme) with a simulated storm courtesy of rain machines and massive fans. This helped obscure the prop just enough for it to pass muster in the ‘chaos’ of a stormy sea. The squid prop was designed and built by Robert A. Mattey, who would be called out of retirement 20 years later to create the massive, hydraulically-controlled 25 ft great white shark props for “JAWS” (1975). 

Note: Kirk Douglas has certainly given better performances than he does in “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” but there is no denying the actor’s chemistry with “Esmeralda” the sea lion. The scene with their duet followed by their whiskery kiss is pure Disney. To those looking for film absolutely faithful to Verne’s book? This isn’t it. However, this movie is a wildly entertaining and occasionally silly Disneyfied adventure, with just enough themes and ideas from the book to remain a legitimate adaptation.

Note: The matte paintings of the film, such the impressive image of the warships gathered around the caldera at Vulcania (above), were created by legendary Disney matte artist Peter Ellenshaw (1913-2007), who also worked on such Disney classics as “Mary Poppins” (1964) and “Darby O’Gill and the Little People” (1959).  His son, Harrison Ellenshaw, would follow in his father’s footsteps, advancing the art of visual effects with his own work in “Star Wars” (1977), “Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back” (1980), and Disney’s “The Black Hole” (1979), which was essentially a space age remake of “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.”

Note: The idea of a hollowed-out volcano used as a secret, high-tech enemy base was later seen in the 1967 James Bond film, “You Only Live Twice,” as well as the James Bond parodic franchise, “Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me” (1999). The latter is a sentimental favorite of mine, if only for the fact that it was the movie my wife and I saw on our honeymoon 25 years ago (it also opened with a honeymoon scene, of course…).

As the Nautilus sinks, the dying Nemo delivers this final bit of dialogue; a reiteration of his words spoken earlier to Aronnax, suggesting the antihero character’s change of heart:

“There is hope for the future. And when the world is ready for a new and better life, all this will someday come to pass… in God’s good time.” 

Note: Whether one accepts it as a canonical successor to the Disney film or not, we see that Nemo and the Nautilus both survived the destruction of Vulcania in the Jules Verne novel “Mysterious Island” (1874), which was also made into a lower-budgeted film for Columbia Pictures in 1961…

The End.

“Mysterious Island” (1961)

1961 saw the release of Columbia Pictures’ “Mysterious Island,” the sequel to Jules Verne’s “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” where we learn that Capt. Nemo and the Nautilus both survived their seeming destruction after the self-destruction of Vulcania base. Ironically, I saw “Mysterious Island” well before I both read and saw “20,000 Leagues…” In fact, I grew up on a steady diet of stop-motion effects maestro Ray Harryhausen’s movies, such as “Jason and the Argonauts” (1963), “One Million Years B.C.” (1966) and “Earth vs. the Flying Saucers” (1956), as well as his colorful “Sinbad” movies (1958-1977). 

Harryhausen does some of his arguably best stop-motion puppetry in “Mysterious Island,” with a real hollowed-out crab carapace being used for his stop-motion giant crab puppet, as well as the terrifying scene inside of a massive beehive (which used rear projection of real bees, in conjunction with stop-motion FX).  “Mysterious Island” saves Capt. Nemo (now played by Herbert Lom) and the Nautilus for the final act of the movie, and given the quasi-sequel’s lesser budget, the interiors of the remade Nautilus submarine are nowhere near as opulent or tactile as they were in the luxe Disney film.  

Like “20,000 Leagues…”, which was remade as a 1997 TV miniseries, “Mysterious Island” was also remade for TV; in this case, a one season 1995 Canadian TV series, which had none of the charm or entertainment value of its more effective predecessor. Since I’ve never read the Jules Verne novel of “Mysterious Island” (another literary blind spot of mine), I can’t speak to the film’s fidelity regarding its source novel, but I can vouch that the movie is, like most of Ray Harryhausen’s FX opuses, an entertaining treasure from my childhood. 

Summing It Up

While not the first live-action Disney film (1950’s “Treasure Island” has that honor), director Richard Fleischer’s adaptation of Jules Verne’s “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” was the first Disney live-action film to be shot in a widescreen aperture, and it uses every last bit of space in that frame very effectively.  Fleischer’s direction imparts an immersive oceanic experience to the audience (its the stuff our old ViewMaster slide toys were made for), as well as claustrophobia aboard the 19th century submarine Nautilus, with darkened corners and hard edges everywhere, just beyond its luxurious appointments.

Just as effective as the glorious color, undersea immersiveness and technical wizardry, the movie is anchored by strong performances as well.  With only a small core of significant characters to focus on in its 126-minute runtime, the actors get enough breathing room amongst the adventure to strut their stuff.  The legendary James Mason as the antihero Captain Nemo isn’t quite the escaped Indian slave described in the story, though he imparts elegance, menace, guilt, and even sympathy in equal measure. Paul Lukas as the distracted yet moral Professor Aronnax is wise enough to let Mason’s Nemo take the reins of the movie when needed. The character interplay between the two is a classic ideological seduction; with both sides bending, though never entirely succumbing to the other’s will.

On the other side are Kirk Douglas as harpoonist-whaler Ned Land (a character who’d more likely be the villain today) and Peter Lorre as Aronnax’s assistant, Conseil. Douglas does a memorable job as the two-fisted, working-class sailor, while Lorre gets to pour every bit of his worry-eyed neuroses into Conseil. Together, this Mutt & Jeff pair provide comic relief to lighten this classic saga of activism and vengeance. Douglas (the late father of equally famous actor/producer son Michael Douglas) camps it up with exaggerated harpooner-isms, such as eating all food with a single knife, or singing “Whale of a Tale” for the kids (while flashing his sculpted torso every chance he gets). Lorre does more of the neurotic shtick he’d later do in Roger Corman’s horror-comedies; a far cry from his role as the perverted, child-killing monster of Fritz Lang’s “M” (1931).

With sumptuous color, solid performances, an opulent production design and surprisingly effective special effects for their day, “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” feels as much like an extended Disneyland ride as it does a linear movie; if only one could step out from the ride’s touring boat, and simply walk through its many colorful sets. Vicariously experiencing the submarine Nautilus through our onscreen avatars is one of the thrills of this near-timeless movie, which is best enjoyed on a larger screen, if possible.  

At 70 years old this month, “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” is a true must-see classic that earns its sea legs.

Where to Watch

“20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” (1954) is currently streaming on Disney+, and is available on physical media on a double-disc DVD (via Amazon.com), as well as an out-of-print, and prohibitively expensive Blu-Ray (prices vary by seller). The film can also be rented digitally via iTunes, YouTube and Amazon Prime Video, as well as other platforms.