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Ramon Novarro plays another exotic lover in Jacques Feyder's Son of India. Through an arresting series of events, he becomes a ragged pauper, then a rich prince in Bombay. American tourist Madge Evans soon enters the picture and the movie becomes a tragic tale of love fighting against racial boundaries and prejudices. (Would the love story be transpiring if Novarro wasn't rich? I doubt it.)
Son of India features some impressive sets and action scenes; how often do you get to see Novarro buried alive in the same film as a rampaging elephant? The entire film held my interest, even when the romance became increasingly saccharine. Unlike many of her films, Madge Evans gets a more demanding role in this one.
Son of India is packed with the usual MGM character actors, including Marjorie Rambeau as a snobbish aunt, Conrad Nagel as Madge's sister, and C. Aubrey Smith and John Miljan in smaller roles. Ann Dvorak's even on the screen for a minute or two as a seductive dancer.
The movie ends far too quickly (not helped, when watching on Turner Classic Movies, by their loud and abrasive promo following). I'm surprised they didn't cut Novarro off in mid-sentence!
This was Feyder's last American film. Later in the '30s, in France, his movies laid the groundwork for the Poetic Realism film movement. His artistry was vivid, though, even in his American films.
Son of India isn't available on DVD.
What bizarre catalyst propelled Irving Thalberg and company to churn out one MGM romantic "comedy" after another starring leads whose defining characteristics were boorish, brutish, insufferable infantilism? I would argue that in the hands of William Haines, this sort of material could border on comic genius, in a surreal Jonathon Winters-ish way. Usually, though, it just thuds and offends, and But the Flesh Is Weak is a prime example.
In this film, written by Ivor Novello, deadbeat Robert Montgomery and his philandering father, C. Aubrey Smith, do their best to mooch from, seduce, and wed (or not) rich women. That's practically the entire story. Montgomery at first latches onto the interesting Heather Thatcher, but then quickly dumps her for a widow, Nora Gregor (better known for her role in Renoir 's Rules of the Game).
There may be a fine line between romantic persistence and cloddish, creepy annoyance, but this screenplay asks Robert Montgomery to dash over it and never look back. Gregor 's ending line "I knew I loved you when you hit me" was the straw that broke the camel's back for Mary. Bleahhh.
Thatcher's role is sympathetically written, for all the good that does the film; Edward Everett Horton plays Gregor's rival suitor in a part that doesn't play to his strengths.
There might have been an amusing line scattered here or there; if so, I can't remember them.
Remade by MGM in 1941 as Free and Easy.
But the Flesh Is Weak is available on Warner Archives DVD-R and has been broadcast on Turner Classic Movies.
In Polly of the Circus, Clark Gable plays a man of the cloth (as he did in Laughing Sinners the year before), this time falling for a circus trapeze artist, Marion Davies. But - their church refuses to accept her as his wife, so she runs back to the circus to kill herself from great heights. Can Clark Gable reach her in time? Will Polly of the Circus have a happy ending?
Sheesh!
Based on a 1907 play, Polly of the Circus is best described as nearly worthless product - a hollow commodity. A harsh-sounding call, I suppose, but they didn't even try to write a good screenplay for this film. The gears of the plot have been so overused (even when the film was made) that the shape of the final product is clear from the start. There's barely a moment of spontaneity present because the absurd plot demands it. Emotional outbursts come out of left-field because the plot demands it. In short, all sorts of far-fetched machinations transpire because the sappy plot demands it. The only extraneous thing in the film is a bizarre little conflict involving Raymond Hatten as an alcoholic church servant, in a role alternately creepy and "humorous".
Marion Davies, who thrived on improvisation and quick wit, is wasted in this vehicle. Gable doesn't suffer quite as badly, but C. Aubrey Smith, as his judgemental father, relies on Grand Gestures, playing to the back seats as if he's in a 1915 Theda Bara movie.
For what it's worth, this movie bombed at the box office, and Gable hated the script so much he walked off the set. Good for him.
Only recommended for Clark Gable and Marion Davies completists.
Polly of the Circus is available on Warner Archives DVD-R.
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