Luana

There was a certain kind of picture in the "pre-code" era, in which the licentiousness of the times would throw up any kind of strange fantasy. In the most significant period of sexual liberation before the 1960s, and still in an era where plucking a bride from a primitive culture did not seem a bit dodgy, a picture like Bird of Paradise could exist. A yarn like this would be the stuff of corny B-flicks a few decades later, but back in 1932 it was acceptable A-feature material.

So what we have here is a rather odd dichotomy. A daft storyline, yet one pulled off with panache. The producer and director is King Vidor, one of the most uniquely talented filmmakers of all time, and what's more he appears to have taken Bird of Paradise very seriously. His camera set-ups give an almost documentary feel to the proceedings. He doesn't force us in with point-of-view shots, or make us coldly objective, but often has us peeping over shoulders or from behind props, like an extra amid the action. This not only gives us the feeling of being there, it is also incredibly vivid and dynamic. He directs with a mixture of realism (most of the extras were genuine Polynesians) and bizarre stylisation, culminating in rituals which become macabre and frenzied riots.

Bird of Paradise also includes a couple of "before they were famous" curios. Those wild tribal dances are choreographed by Busby Berkeley. His stark, abstract formations are already evident, and nicely suit the feel of this picture. Then there is music by Max Steiner, composing what happens to be one of the earliest examples of an orchestral backing score in a talking picture. Steiner's score is a little awkward in its mixing, but melodically it is fine, establishing themes for different characters, setting tones, matching action but never once threatening to upstage the images. Berkeley and Steiner would soon take up residence at Warner Brothers, and the rest would be history. Oh, and there's one more curio, in that you several times clearly hear the Hawaiian word "wiki", nearly seventy years before anyone thought of joining it to "pedia".

The cast of Bird of Paradise are a rather odd bunch, but it doesn't seem to matter. The ship's crew members are filled out with a number of comedy supporting players, like 'Skeets' Gallagher and Bert Roach. They make the onboard scenes a little more interesting, but their appearances are fleeting and their performances muted enough that they never threaten to overbalance the picture or make it too farcical. Lead man Joel McCrea was a competent rather than an exceptional actor, but he has the ideal physique and manner for the character. Importantly he is also a generous player, who never attempts to steal the scene. And finally we have Dolores del Rio, of course looking far more Hispanic than Polynesian, but nevertheless convincing as a native woman, and certainly vivacious.

In spite of, or perhaps because of the talkies being firmly established and no longer stilted, Bird of Paradise seems more than anything like a silent picture. It does not make do without dialogue, but what dialogue there is tends to be superfluous, the images speaking eloquently enough. In other words, you could have released it as a silent, and not needed many title cards. With its mystical, exotic tone we do not really need to hear the actors rabbiting on to retain a sense of naturalism. And yes, it does contain many moments that are somewhat laughable (such as Joel McCrea riding a turtle like it was a surfboard), but thanks to its inventive direction, spot-on casting, and professional production it manages, against all odds, to salvage some dignity.

While the plot of this film may seem trite to us today, it was fresh and original in 1932 when it was made. This may well have been the first "throw the girl into the volcano" movie. Considering the technical limitations of film-making in 1932, the photography and special effects are quite good: the whirlpool, the erupting volcano and the river of lava.

Contradicting other postings to this website, I did not see a "rape" scene. What I saw was the male lead chase the female lead after she had been teasing him, then he wrestled her and pinned her down to introduce her to Western-style kissing. A rapist doesn't kiss his victim, and a rape victim would not want her attacker to continue kissing her.

The action of the plot moves quickly and is never bogged down by the dialog. This is an entertaining film, which you could view as you would any antique: it's charming for the era in which it was created.

Bird of Paradise is based on a 1912 play and the story of the beautiful native girl being sacrificed to a volcano is probably familiar to most moviegoers, but it was done here first and it showcases it's beautiful stars, Dolores Del Rio and Joel McCrea. It features some of the most beautiful black-and-white photography I've ever seen, and the music by Max Steiner is lovely. This piece of exotica has gotten a bum rap by many reviewers in the past, but it stands as a pleasant time-waster that will pass about an hour-and-a-half painlessly enough. The Alpha DVD print shows scratches and wear, but not enough to mar the enjoyment of the film.

A very beautiful & romantic film. It's about a lovely native woman named Luana (Dolores del Rio) and the man that falls in-love with her, Johnny Baker (Joel McCrea). Luana is chosen by the other island natives to be sacrificed to the volcano. This is a story we've all heard of by now but this might be the first film on the subject matter.

I discovered this film via Creighton Chaney. I was looking to watch a film from him that I have yet to see. He's not in this one very much, his character Thornton is more of a supporting role, but he did not have to be in this film for me to enjoy it. I'm glad to discover it because it's a wonderful story.

8/10

This lusty pre-code movie has a boatload of rich Americans cruising the South Seas. They land on a volcanic island, where they discover that native Dolores Del Rio is scheduled to be sacrificed to the volcano god. However, she and Joel McCrea fall in love and go off to live together in bliss... for a while.

It's a movie I don't revisit that often. This time I was struck that director King Vidor directed long sections of it as a silent movie. There's a prologue and epilogue, but until more than fifty minutes elapse before McCrea and Miss Del Rio hold a conversation. Instead, we are treated to an underwater sequence in which they are both naked, and stunningly shot images, courtesy of cameraman Clyde De Vinna.

In place of dialogue, Vidor allows Max Steiner's lush score to carry the burden of story and dialogue, and it does so magnificently. Some commenters on the IMDb claim this is the first feature movie with a full score. That honor appears to belong to 1931's CIMMARON, also with a Steiner score. It would, I suppose, be neater to believe that this movie allowed the movie score to enter already in full bloom, carrying the movie to success in story telling, cinema, and the audiences. Alas, it performed poorly in the theaters in a year when not much was performing well. Today, more than 90 years later, it seems a bit naive, a bit racist, and thoroughly old-fashioned. Still, there's a tremendous amount of cinematic beauty in the movie, the images, and in the physical beauty of its leads.