Several years ago, I gave a talk at the annual Ragan speechwriters conference in Washington on “The Secret Lives of Speechwriters.” Somewhat tongue-in-cheek, I likened speechwriters to Rudolf Rassendyll, the hero of Anthony Hope’s hyper-romantic 1894 novel, The Prisoner of Zenda.

Rassendyll is an Englishman on holiday in the mythical Central European kingdom of Ruritania, when he is suddenly called upon to impersonate that country’s king.

The point I was trying to make was that as speechwriters, we do the same. To write convincingly for our clients, we have to assume their identities –- at least in our imaginations.

To underscore the point, I showed a scene from the 1937 David O. Selznick movie version of Zenda. Somewhat to my surprise, no one in the audience appeared to be familiar with it.

But now, thanks to Warner Home Video, the film is available on DVD, paired with the 1952 MGM Technicolor remake on the flip side.

“Remake” is a particularly apt term in this case. Hollywood gossip has it that Selznick charged so much for the rights ($500,000 –- more than any studio had ever paid to do a remake) that MGM tried to save money by copying the original, almost frame-by-frame. Even the musical score by Alfred Newman was recycled, albeit with a new orchestration by Conrad Salinger.

MGM’s economies are rather painfully obvious. Yes, the pastel colors are pretty, but the sets and costumes look as if they were borrowed from a touring company production of The Student Prince. Selznick’s spare-no-expense version, even in black and white, looks richer and more authentic. However improbable the plot, you feel that you really have been transported back to an 1890s Central European kingdom.

The performances are better, too. Playing the dual roles of Rassendyll and the king, Ronald Colman outshines Stewart Granger, who starred in the remake. One scene in particular highlights the contrast. Princess Flavia, who is betrothed to the king whom Rassendyll is impersonating, complains to him, “I still don’t understand.”

To which Rassendyll replies: “Then will you believe this without understanding? I love you.”

Granger delivers the line flat, with no particular emphasis, while Colman’s delivery is a two-sentence dissertation on how to speak the written word: “Then will you believe this … without understanding? I love you.”

The 1937 version has better villains as well: Raymond Massey as Black Michael, the king’s treacherous half-brother, and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. as Michael’s henchman, Rupert of Hentzau.

Fairbanks Jr., son of the legendary silent-movie swashbuckler, would make film and TV appearances for fifty years afterwards, but he never again exuded the same sinister, decadent charm he displays here. Note the scene where he catches sight of himself in a mirror, tilts his gilded helmet to a rakish angle, and saunters off, whistling a waltz.

Other supporting actors include a young David Niven, making his screen debut as Fritz von Tarlenheim, and veteran English actor C. Aubrey Smith as the king’s faithful aide, Colonel Zapt.

Early in the 1937 film, Zapt has a speech that was abridged in the later version, which I think is a pity.

The king and Rassendyll are at the king’s hunting lodge at Zenda on the eve of the king’s coronation. After an evening of heavy drinking, the king can’t be roused the following morning. But he’s not drunk. Half-brother Michael has drugged the last bottle of wine so he can stage a coup when the king fails to show up for his enthronement. It is at this point that Zapt persuades Rassendyll, the look-alike, to impersonate the king.

While Rassedyll changes into his coronation togs, Zapt hides his unconscious royal master in the wine celler. Displaying an almost paternal tenderness, he rolls up his tunic, places it under the king’s head for a pillow, and intones: “The night before your coronation you must have wine. Wine! And more wine! But you’re my king: the son of your father. And may I rot in my grave before Black Michael sits in your place!”

Plunk down a paltry $19.95 for the DVD and spend a night in Ruritania –- either in black and white or in color. Romantic getaways don’t come any cheaper than that.