The Disreputable Reptile

In Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, there sits a statue of director John Huston because he made 1964's The Night of the Iguana there. Based on a Tennessee Williams' play, it follows the misfortunes of a disgraced Episcopal minister working as a tour guide. The tale of exasperation in the face of misery is wonderfully entertaining.

Richard Burton plays Reverend Larry Shannon, doing nothing to conceal his English accent though I think the character's meant to be American. Deborah Kerr is likewise plainly English though she has a lot of dialogue about growing up in Nantucket.

Running the hotel where everyone ends up is Ava Gardner as Maxine, my favourite performance I've ever seen from her. The way she cackles at Shannon's desperate attempts to keep a stuffy churchwoman off his back, as well as avoiding the advances of the woman's underage niece (Sue Lyon), is delicious. She's a truly John Huston character, tough as nails and usually in a default state of amusement at the tragedies swirling around her.

It's really Burton's film and we watch him and wonder if he really is a cad or if the world has done him a series of injustices. Mostly he's sweaty and miserable but then comes a flash of some insight and inner dignity, especially in his interactions with Hannah, Kerr's character. The intelligent viewer will be forced to conclude that, yeah, this civilisation of ours can be really shitty to people.

Kerr's character, a woman of compassion and refinement, is more classically tragic, scraping by as a sketch artist as she travels with her grandfather, a poet. She's sort of a worldlier, more compassionate Blanche DuBois. I loved the delicate touch with which her story concluded.

Night of the Iguana is available on The Criterion Channel until the end of the month.

X Sonnet #1826

Amidst the roiling yellow, eyes were blue.
The desert's clean and void of Persian rugs.
A shifting walk advanced a thirsty crew.
But something else the heart still rudely tugs.
Machines so old they're ever new still work.
A dream of flight was seen at two o'clock.
The band together rocked a Scottish kirk.
A healthy, modest salad fills a sock.
The lib'ral lizard steals a coke for spring.
Where sweaty shirts make no impression go.
The dewy palms beneath the wind'll sing.
The hour being blue, the desp'rate row.
A bitter wind disrupts the oven night.
A savage ghost abducts the skittish kite.