User Reviews

Synthetic melodramas set in the South Seas were popular on Broadway in the years between the world wars; so I suspected this film had first seen life as such a play. Actually, however, it was originally a short story in John Russell's 1921 anthology, Where the Pavement Ends. Be this as it may, the movie is mainly of interest for fans of cult icon, Fay Wray. True, she has little to do but look vulnerable and alluring, but that, as we know, she does rather well. Her adversary this time is Robert Gleckler who strides the celluloid stage as if treading the boards with fellow amateurs from the Lower Podunk Drama Club. Richard Arlen is none too charismatic as the hero either. In fact, it's Ivan Simpson who steals the movie as a far-gone native, rabidly obsessed with pearls to the point of madness and death. So far, so good. The stage is set. All the action is still to come. But with Simpson's departure, director Abbott seems to lose interest. Even the sea god sequence itself (which could have been quite effective) is indifferently staged. Arlen rising from the deep had the potential for real drama if shot from the natives' viewpoint, but Abbott treats it as a static, small-scale theater piece.

Abbott once said that his worst quality as a director was a congenital impatience and that defect is much in evidence in this picture. Many of the shots are badly framed. It's obvious that Abbott never once looked through the viewfinder to ascertain exactly what the camera was actually capturing. A face bent on revenge or a pair of pants seen from behind? Some of the angles are so disconcertingly ugly, it's a wonder the players concerned didn't march up to Zukor's office in protest. They didn't, of course. They were lucky to have jobs while Paramount continued to make films during the Depression (and almost went bankrupt as a result).