The Gay Desperado

The Gay Desperado came out during that short period when every studio had an opera star under contract giving the American movie going public a little culture more or less. The roles these people had were somewhat limited and the vogue passed painlessly enough with people like the star of this film Nino Martini going back to their first loves of the grand opera and the concert stage.

Jesse Lasky discovered Martini and used him on and off in films of varying quality, sometimes only as a guest artist. The Gay Desperado was his attempt to launch Martini as a full fledged star with a role as a singing radio entertainer captured by Mexican bandits. This also enabled Martini to use his accent without it being too noticeable.

Like Harry Cohn at Columbia with Grace Moore, Lasky and his producing partner Mary Pickford gave him full support and his biggest support was hiring Rouben Mamoulian as director. Mamoulian who was successful on the stage as well as film was able to tone down the overacting necessary for an opera singer and make it acceptable for film.

The Gay Desperado also has one gay and witty script involving some Mexican bandits who fall somewhere between the evil Goldhat of The Treasure Of The Sierra Madre and the noble Cisco Kid. Leo Carrillo after listening to American radio reporting and films glamorizing American gangsters thinks its time his group got up to date in their methods.

One night because Carrillo is a music lover he raids the local radio station and captures Martini who is giving a radio concert. Later on to get up to date Carrillo and his gang go in for kidnapping which was big in the Thirties starting tragically with the Lindbergh baby. Heiress Ida Lupino and the boy she was running away with to Mexico, James Blakely. A few cadenzas out of Martini and Ida forgets all about this rather arrogant young fathead she was running away with.

An American gangster and his mob, Stanley Fields horn in on the kidnapping and soon after American detective Paul Hurst is hot on everybody's trail. Pretty soon Leo is thinking that the American gangster style isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Nino Martini's career in film lasted pretty much as long as his fellow opera singers though this film garnered deservedly good critical reviews and public reception. He introduced the song The World Is Mine Tonight which later was revived by Mario Lanza. Probably without that accent he might have tried some of the familiar operettas that were being done at the time and be better known by audiences today.

The Gay Desperado with its good spirit of satirical fun still holds up well for today's audiences. Pity it's not shown more often.

If "Love Me Tonight" is "the musical for people who don't like musicals", it has to be said that "The Gay Desperado" is definitely not a musical for people who don't like opera. In fact -- despite apparently being based on a comic operetta -- it is not really a musical at all but a spoof bandit story with interpolated unrelated arias to show off the voice of one character; and what a voice it is.

Nino Martini, as the young singer Chivo who joins the bandit troop to get a spot on the radio (no, the plot doesn't make a lot more sense later on either...), has a glorious golden tenor whose style hasn't dated a day since the era when it was recorded. The trillings and warblings of some of his musical contemporaries belong to a bygone fashion, but it's very easy to picture Chivo belting out "Nessun Dorma" to a World Cup crowd and topping the charts in the process. Unfortunately, while he has an engaging grin and a decent dramatic range, he is completely incapable of acting and singing at the same time. The result is that the otherwise rapid-paced film grinds to a shuddering halt every time Chivo lays his hand on his breast and starts to declaim, and the viewer's tolerance of the result is likely to depend on his appreciation of operatic performance.

Aside from this drawback, the film is an enjoyable broad-brush satire on Hollywood conventions and the Mexican bandit stereotype in particular, which achieves the vital goal of all such spoofs in making its characters engaging enough in their own right to hold the viewer's interest when the joke would otherwise have grown stale. The bandit chief and his sidekick have the traditional double-act relationship, there is an enigmatic peon with a carved-teak face, and a spirited heroine (a young Ida Lupino) who performs the generic "you say you hate me but you love me really" routine with a refreshing twist.

Overall the film is entertaining and pretty funny, and I feel I did get my money's-worth -- but it can't be denied that the musical interludes, while admirable in their own way, introduce severe pacing problems.

An enjoyably lunatic film, from a revered director. Somehow an amateur opera singer gets entangled with a chaotic group of Mexican bandits, just as they decide to modernise their operation and turn themselves into American-style gangsters.

The director left his mark with some classy desert photography, and engineers some hilarious set pieces. Highlights include the hi-jacking of a radio show during a girl group's rendition of 'Lookie Lookie Lookie, Here Comes Cookie' (they continue to perform with their hands up), a bungled firing squad, Nino Martini underneath the world's largest sombrero, Martini singing in handcuffs, and the entire gang guarding Ida Lupino. Mischa Auer shows his expertise at quirky roles as Diego, totally silent save for a single line, the longest in the film, where he becomes the gang's conscience. The interplay between Leo Carrillo's eternal optimist, and Harold Huber's pessimistic second in command is great.

Martini's performance is engaging, and he's not afraid to laugh at himself, but his English is too poor for the film to come over properly. It is never explained why Mexican bandits, and indeed Mexicans generally, are so enraptured by Italian opera. It also drags a little - it might easily have ended before Stanley Fields' gang of Robinson and Raft lookalikes even appear.

The film is undeniably minor, and the beginning of Mamoulian's decline - it is certainly can't compare with Becky Sharp or Queen Christina. It has some of the candy floss feel of Love Me Tonight, but none of that film's subtlety and far less wit. But it's got a nice feel to it.

Not that I have tried hard, but it's difficult to get any information on the girl group, who reappear later on the radio. They deserve to be remembered.

This film is one of the hidden gems of the 1930's Hollywood studio system. It is a wonderful operetta buffo, a delightful parody of all those Mexican bandito westerns and American gangster films of the early decade. The Mexican stereotypes are a bit painful but they are deliberately exaggerated for this comedy about a Mexican bandit who wants to learn real outlaw lessons from the American gangsters seen on the movie screen. The in-joke is that when we finally do meet those gangster, led by perennial heavy Stanley Fields, he is surrounded by other racketeers that look and act exactly like Edward G. Robinson and George Raft. And that is only one of the numerous little in-jokes in this film. Director Mamoulian's visual style and camera, his use of set-ups and shadows, of bandits riding against the evening sky, is so remarkable that the New York Film Critics gave him the Best Director Award for 1937. The script is witty and as fast paced as any Howard Hawks, especially the inter-play between Carrillo and Harold Huber in what must be his best Hollywood role. He and Mischa Auer as a mute Spanish Indian are delightfully. A real gem produced by Mary Pickford's United Artist company.

This is, as others have pointed out, a lovely film in many ways.

I particularly enjoyed seeing the Tucson, AZ landscape as it was some 80 years ago. This appears to have been filmed in the area in which Columbia Pictures built a whole 1860s town for the movie "Arizona." On a personal note, I can look eastward from my back yard and recognize the mountains and the terrain that has been preserved as a county park.

The correction I need to make is the use in various reviews of the Spanglish non-word "bandito" (created to rhyme with the product name Frito) in every place where the correct word, readily found in any Spanish dictionary, would be "bandido."