One of the funniest films I have ever seen. Truly laugh-a-minute, and an absolute must-see for Herbert Marshall fans. For anyone confused by genre, this is clearly supposed to be a comedy, with a dash of adventure, sex and melodrama.
The costumes. These are exquisite. The cast spend a couple of days tottering around the jungle in full 1930s evening dress, diamonds dripping from each earlobe in the case of Mary Boland. Overnight, everyone's clothes become entirely shredded into the neat, ribbon-like tatters that you'd get if you cut up your kid's t-shirt with scissors for a pirate costume. Then Claudette Colbert goes naked in the shower, and the men gaze on as a monkey nicks her clothes. She spends the next two days in various couture garments fashioned from leaves. Finally she transitions to her leopard-skin phase which involves several more perfectly tailored fur garments, culminating in a leopard-skin crop top.
The make up. It's wonderful. They seem to wear more as the film progresses. Wiliam Gargan's eyeliner is a sight to behold (see about 58 minutes in). Claudette Colbert pops on some lipstick after her waterfall-shower, and pouts coyly at herself in a hand mirror. Mary Boland dabs on night cream before the first group camping session. The two men have a shaving and grooming scene, where Herbert Marshall attempts to style his hair with a spectacularly incompetent looking comb made of twigs or something. No idea what he uses for Brylcreem - coconut oil? Both men are 100% smooth and clean-shaven throughout the entire expedition (which lasts weeks if not months), apparently getting by on one shared razor blade.
The dog(s). Mary Boland's lapdog probably deserves a leading credit of its own. There's barely a single moment where it's not tucked under her arm, looking utterly disinterested in everything going on around it. It's so docile I wondered several times if it was stuffed, but if you watch it closely enough you'll see its head move. At about 69 minutes (in the version I saw) she tosses it from one arm to the other, and it still doesn't flinch. It's possibly a different dog in the final scene, its muzzle looks darker.
Herbert Marshall. He spends most of the film with a lock of hair carefully styled over his brow, much like the storm- swept scene in the lodge in Girls' Dormitory (1936). This film is full of Colin Firth-style "Darcy moments" for Marshall. His costume progressively decreases in quantity until he's essentially topless in the final scenes. He actually comes out with the line: "Breakfast, woman!" (which is supposed to be funny, and fortunately is, on several levels). Interestingly, his accent is less conspicuously "cut glass" British RP in this movie, compared to many of his later ones. In the final scenes where he's back to brilliantined immaculacy, I couldn't initially work out which actress was his wife and which was his mother-in-law. The actresses only have eight years between them and they're both older than him, and made to look about twenty years older.
Claudette Colbert. Her glasses. The problem with the "plain Jane shedding her specs" makeover is that it does beg the question how the lady's eyesight miraculously improves. Was Linda Carter wearing plain glass spectacles, or was she granted 20:20 vision on becoming Wonderwoman? Here, happily, we are treated to an explanation: "I didn't know I could see without glasses. They told me I had to wear them when I was little, and I just did." Really? You never in your life before took them off to sleep or shower, and noticed whether you could see or not? Wonderful stuff. Her histrionic marriage vows to Marshall, while he's (supposedly) dying of an arrow wound and they're both trussed up back to back on a bamboo pole, are marvellous.
Mary Boland. She transforms a native village into the British Raj. She gets an absolute treat of a line early on, just as her gown is starting to disintegrate: "You didn't mention me in connection with our sleeping arrangement. But I suppose the assurances you gave Miss Jones apply to me too?" Followed by obvious disappointment when Marshall confirms with a grunt that they do.
William Gargan. I imagine his character sheet had one direction on it: "brash". His self-importance might seem off the scale, but I've met modern-day journalists with equivalent egos. Unless I missed it, there's no record of what he ends up doing after they all return to civilisation, unlike for the other characters.
Leo Carillo. The death of his "native guide" character is almost tragic, except for the fact he manages to deliver a couple more lines with perfect clarity - with an arrow stuck through his neck and coming out the other side - returning the scene to hilarity. Only heightened by his final stroke of his MCC tie before carking it.
To sum up: this is a brilliant film and a must-see for fans of vintage cinema. It's worth buying on DVD if you can't catch a showing on TV or online.
The costumes. These are exquisite. The cast spend a couple of days tottering around the jungle in full 1930s evening dress, diamonds dripping from each earlobe in the case of Mary Boland. Overnight, everyone's clothes become entirely shredded into the neat, ribbon-like tatters that you'd get if you cut up your kid's t-shirt with scissors for a pirate costume. Then Claudette Colbert goes naked in the shower, and the men gaze on as a monkey nicks her clothes. She spends the next two days in various couture garments fashioned from leaves. Finally she transitions to her leopard-skin phase which involves several more perfectly tailored fur garments, culminating in a leopard-skin crop top.
The make up. It's wonderful. They seem to wear more as the film progresses. Wiliam Gargan's eyeliner is a sight to behold (see about 58 minutes in). Claudette Colbert pops on some lipstick after her waterfall-shower, and pouts coyly at herself in a hand mirror. Mary Boland dabs on night cream before the first group camping session. The two men have a shaving and grooming scene, where Herbert Marshall attempts to style his hair with a spectacularly incompetent looking comb made of twigs or something. No idea what he uses for Brylcreem - coconut oil? Both men are 100% smooth and clean-shaven throughout the entire expedition (which lasts weeks if not months), apparently getting by on one shared razor blade.
The dog(s). Mary Boland's lapdog probably deserves a leading credit of its own. There's barely a single moment where it's not tucked under her arm, looking utterly disinterested in everything going on around it. It's so docile I wondered several times if it was stuffed, but if you watch it closely enough you'll see its head move. At about 69 minutes (in the version I saw) she tosses it from one arm to the other, and it still doesn't flinch. It's possibly a different dog in the final scene, its muzzle looks darker.
Herbert Marshall. He spends most of the film with a lock of hair carefully styled over his brow, much like the storm- swept scene in the lodge in Girls' Dormitory (1936). This film is full of Colin Firth-style "Darcy moments" for Marshall. His costume progressively decreases in quantity until he's essentially topless in the final scenes. He actually comes out with the line: "Breakfast, woman!" (which is supposed to be funny, and fortunately is, on several levels). Interestingly, his accent is less conspicuously "cut glass" British RP in this movie, compared to many of his later ones. In the final scenes where he's back to brilliantined immaculacy, I couldn't initially work out which actress was his wife and which was his mother-in-law. The actresses only have eight years between them and they're both older than him, and made to look about twenty years older.
Claudette Colbert. Her glasses. The problem with the "plain Jane shedding her specs" makeover is that it does beg the question how the lady's eyesight miraculously improves. Was Linda Carter wearing plain glass spectacles, or was she granted 20:20 vision on becoming Wonderwoman? Here, happily, we are treated to an explanation: "I didn't know I could see without glasses. They told me I had to wear them when I was little, and I just did." Really? You never in your life before took them off to sleep or shower, and noticed whether you could see or not? Wonderful stuff. Her histrionic marriage vows to Marshall, while he's (supposedly) dying of an arrow wound and they're both trussed up back to back on a bamboo pole, are marvellous.
Mary Boland. She transforms a native village into the British Raj. She gets an absolute treat of a line early on, just as her gown is starting to disintegrate: "You didn't mention me in connection with our sleeping arrangement. But I suppose the assurances you gave Miss Jones apply to me too?" Followed by obvious disappointment when Marshall confirms with a grunt that they do.
William Gargan. I imagine his character sheet had one direction on it: "brash". His self-importance might seem off the scale, but I've met modern-day journalists with equivalent egos. Unless I missed it, there's no record of what he ends up doing after they all return to civilisation, unlike for the other characters.
Leo Carillo. The death of his "native guide" character is almost tragic, except for the fact he manages to deliver a couple more lines with perfect clarity - with an arrow stuck through his neck and coming out the other side - returning the scene to hilarity. Only heightened by his final stroke of his MCC tie before carking it.
To sum up: this is a brilliant film and a must-see for fans of vintage cinema. It's worth buying on DVD if you can't catch a showing on TV or online.