A Man Out of Land

A man makes a nuisance of himself in several communities in 1951's Outcast of the Islands. This Carol Reed movie is based on a Joseph Conrad novel and stars Trevor Howard, Ralph Richardson, and an intriguing young lady called simply Kerima.

This is the kind of movie I'd been in the mood for for a while. Along the lines of Treasure of Sierra Madre, Secret of the Incas, or The Ebb-Tide, it's about a disparate group of unscrupulous Westerners living in foreign lands. These stories are usually dismissed now for how they depict indigenous people but, having met many of the Westerners who've come to live in Japan, these old movies and books, I can attest, are certainly true to life as far as Western characters are concerned.

I've met a few rogues like Trevor Howard's character Willems, though Willems is certainly much smarter. We find him as an idler in Singapore, having weaselled himself into a high paying job. Yet he squanders his cushy position by wearing flashy clothes and playing billiards during work hours. We learn he used to be a bare-footed ship's hand when he was found by Captain Lingard (Ralph Richardson) and worked his way up from there. As Lingard's ship pulls into port, fortune has it that Willems' boss finally loses patience with him and fires him. So Willems abandons his wife and dives into the bay, once more going to work for Lingard.

Lingard takes him to a secret, lucrative trading post safely hidden behind treacherous shoals. There he's set up an English couple played by Robert Morley and Wendy Hiller in a kind of hacienda. Surrounding them are a community of mysterious natives, some of them played by white actors in brown face.

Among them is the chieftain's mute daughter, Aissa, and Willems falls recklessly in love with her. She's played by Kerima, whose biography on Wikipedia is fascinating. Born and raised in France to French parents, she was nonetheless believed for decades to have been the daughter of "a wealthy Arab from Algiers". She traded on her "exotic looks" for years to play characters from various foreign countries. I don't know about you, but she just looks white to me.

It fascinates me that she evidently didn't look white to so many people. The film would probably be stronger if the locals were properly cast and Aissa in particular is crucial to conveying an impression of the culture. She's captivating her for different reasons than those intended. I do wonder what's going on behind her constantly angry eyes.

Willems is a fascinating character. He is a scoundrel and he lies and cheats routinely. But he's also smart and even considerate sometimes. The film challenges the viewer to evaluate Lingard's moral judgements of him, to show him kindness or rebuke, and you wonder if he deserves either.

Twitter Sonnet #1659

A carrot clock began to count the fur.
Another month was yet unlike the last.
The mouser first to sleep was last to purr.
A reckless ogre sports a ragged cast.
The needed nurse was left beside the pond.
Distinctive tags could never save a soul.
Prosthetic faces forge an empty bond.
The big hotel was built to ape a bowl.
'Twas only once a proper song was played.
But every end was capped with stupid strings.
If only witless hands had wisely stayed.
The empty sea would be a glass that sings.
The dancing scoundrel takes an island home.
Where froth appears the waves are like to roam.

Truth and the Nazi Hacienda

Nazis and man-eating dogs are chasing you through the jungle, but the real question is, do you really know the person running by your side? 1956's Run for the Sun sort of half-heartedly maintains a theme of truth in romance, the main appeal of the film being its production values, performances, and suspense. I'm not sure if the weak link is director Roy Boulting or screenwriter Dudley Nichols. A lack of chemistry between stars Richard Widmark and Jane Greer may also be at fault. But there's plenty to admire here. I could take a million screenshots that look like individual pulp covers.

The whole film was shot on location in Mexico, with much of it in jungles near Acapulco. Even the soundstage interiors were reportedly shot on Mexican soundstages. And they're well lit by cinematographer Joseph La Shelle.

That's not rear projection, Greer is in a real car in real Mexico.

The film begins with a magazine reporter, Katie (Greer), tracking down the reclusive novelist, Mike Latimer (Widmark), to where he's living, integrated into the life of a Mexican fishing village.

Mike spends his evenings in bed with a bottle, torturing himself about his inability to find truth in his writing, the character clearly being based on Hemingway. There's the start of something interesting in his inability to trust any perception of truth after his wife left him for another man but somehow this theme doesn't quite get off the ground.

Katie can't go through with her assignment to write a nasty expose on Mike. He insists on flying her to Mexico City in his little yellow plane. Unbeknownst to him, she has a magnetised notebook in her purse which she sets next to the dashboard compass, not realising she's throwing the two of them off course. I guess Mike can't even trust the laws of magnetism. If we take the purse to symbolise what it usually did for Hitchcock, a vagina, this plot detail becomes a little more interesting. What could throw Mike off-course into hot, steamy wilderness?

Individually, Widmark and Greer are fine, but there's just no sense of passion between the two. They certainly look passionate, hacking their way through foliage and muck.

Just look at that cinematography; all the shadows of those leaves and how subtly the eye is drawn to Greer's face.

The villain, played by Trevor Howard, somehow works out to be much more fascinating. He tries to conceal his true identity as a Nazi behind a natural geniality, but there's always a kind of carnivorous intensity in his eyes.

Run for the Sun is available on Amazon Prime.