The Adventures of Marco Polo (1938), starring Gary Cooper in the title role, nearly bankrupted Samuel Goldwyn given the high cost of production and tepid reception, losing some $700,000 — some $16 million in today’s dollars.
Cooper’s love interest, Sigrid Gurie, heavily hyped as “the Norwegian Garbo” in this, her debut film, was born in Flatbush Brooklyn to Norwegian parents, and her acting fell flat.
Even Cooper, critics complained, was better suited playing a cowboy than an Italian adventurer. Yet, Netflix, too, bellyflopped, when it attempted the story — losing, reportedly, $200 million after a two-season run, its behemoth $10 million budget failing to draw an audience, even though they cast the quintessential Italian heartthrob, Lorenzo Richelmy. Even Lorenz Hart in the brilliant Oscar-nominated film Blue Moon (2025) longed to do a show based on the Italian “explorer.”
I suspect if a filmmaker — or Broadway talent — honed in on the spiritual, cultural, and commercial trifecta of Marco Polo’s epic adventures, they would have a hit on their hands.
The 1938 film made important strides. The National Board of Review, for one, gave it a thumbs up — the entity founded in 1909 to recognize films of merit with artistic value, in time generating Oscar buzz. The film’s writer, Robert Sherwood, an award-winning playwright, known for The Petrified Forest, would go on to write Goldwyn’s biggest hit, The Best Years of Our Lives.
Yet, the competition was stiff — including Oscar-winning Boys Town (Best Actor, Best Original Story), You Can’t Take It with You (Best Picture, Best Director), The Adventures of Robin Hood (Best Art Director, Best Film Editing, Best Original Score); Alexander’s Ragtime Band (Best Original Musical) — plus The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, featuring Hollywood’s hot new star, Mickey Rooney, and many others.
Then, too, the directorial follies were unhelpful — John Cromwell bailing in five days; William Wyler passing; John Ford filming Himalayan crossing scenes including a blizzard before pivoting to make his career-defining film, Stagecoach, leaving Archie Mayo who had previously directed the Hollywood production of The Petrified Forest the unenviable task.
All that said, The Adventures of Marco Polo is definitely worth a look. One of Lana Turner’s first films, in which she plays a servant, it tells the story of the Venetian merchant’s 13th-century travels over 24 years through Asia to China and the court of Kublai Khan based on Tracci di Marco Polo, i.e., “The Travels of Marco Polo,” published around 1300. He dictated his far-flung tales of adventure to Italian romance writer, Rustichello da Pisa (a.k.a. Rusticiano) while the two were imprisoned in Genoa.
Though the travelogue naturally embellished his stories, at its core was a devout Catholic on an exotic trading mission between 1271 and 1295, familiarizing Europe with Far East cultures, the “Silk Road” (a.k.a., “Routes”) and wonders of the East like paper money.
All the while he sought to bring Christianity to China — the film’s release on Good Friday signaling the filmmaker’s intent to play this up.
As the story unfolds, Marco and his father’s bookkeeper sail from Venice to Acre (now Israel, then under Muslim Mamluk control), then travel through Turkey, Persia (Iran), Afghanistan, and across the Gobi Desert into China. (In actuality he traveled with his father, Niccolò, and uncle, Maffeo.)
Shortly after arriving in Peking, they encounter a scientist named Chen Tsu, fittingly played by Henry Byron Warner — the definitive Jesus in Cecil B. Demille’s epic The King of Kings (1927).
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” Warner says as he reads to his children from the Bible. “Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are the merciful…”
At which point, Cooper poignantly cuts him off, finishing the passage, “For they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. And, blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God.”
Then he asks enthusiastically, “Are you a Christian?”
“No,” says Warner nonchalantly. “But I want my children to know the trueness of all the philosophers.”
He is soon hosting Marco Polo and his traveling companion for a meal — introducing him to “spaghet,” i.e., spaghetti.
“I envy you men of the Western world,” he says. “You have been given the golden rule of life. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”
“Yes,” says Cooper, “we’ve been given it and we obey it — when convenient. We Venetians get along with our neighbors in Genoa and Florence until they interfere with our trade. Then we go to war with them.”
“I advise you to be very careful, Marco Polo,” says Warner. “Kublai Kahn is a good man, a just man, but he is dominated by an advisor who has little respect for the sanctity of human life.”
His disregard for the “sanctity of human life” is, in fact, the essence of the film’s nemesis, masterfully played by Basil Rathbone.
His name is “Ahmed, a foreigner, the emperor’s minister of state,” says Warner. “Watch out for him if you are here for any favors… Make every effort to convince him that you are no more than a friendly gentleman who is anxious to see the world without treading on anyone’s toes… We have a proverb here. ‘Too much gossip is the surest form of suicide.’”
Such wisdom.
Then, they come upon the children playing with fireworks, another eastern wonder — foreshadowing the film’s flash-bang ending.
Marco Polo soon arrives in the court of Kublai Kahn whereupon, predictably, he falls in love with the emperor’s beautiful daughter, the Mongol princess Kukachin, played by Gurie. It’s a touching love story, albeit entirely fictional as she is betrothed to the “Khan of Persia,” she says. At the end, after a battle royale with Ahmed, Marco Polo is escorting her to Persia for her wedding. It is his final service to Kublai Kahn, before returning to Venice — this very important mission, around 1291–1293, showing the great trust the emperor placed in the Venetian adventurer.
Quite a touching film with an uplifting message, its flaws notwithstanding.
