Call Her Savage

Lurid-but-fascinating tale of wild half-breed Texas heiress has everything in it, including whippings, prostitution, extra-marital affairs, a neglected baby, and singing homosexuals. Pre-Code stunner boasts Clara Bow's great talkie comeback (after a bunch of so-so talkies) and she is WONDERFUL as well as Gorgeous. Playing Nasa Springer, Bow gets to whip a snake and Gilbert Roland, have a cat fight with Thelma Todd, beat Monroe Owsley senseless, smash a guitar over a servant's head, and run wild from Texas to Chicago to New York City. Clara Bow is great in this film. Too bad Bow made only one more film after this one (the underrated Hoopla).

Estelle Taylor, Weldon Hayburn, Russell Simpson, Fred Kohler, Dorothy Peterson, Margaret Livingston, Anthony Jowitt, and Mischa Auer co-star.

Great line as the father drives up and says "Why are you whipping that man?" Clara Bow answers, "I'm practicing in case I ever get married." Priceless!

What a film! Daring to tackle issues few films would even look at today. Stunningly photographed and directed, and with greater style than many early talkies. And at its heart is one of the best film performances ever - Clara Bow proves herself to be a magnificent actress in a role that demands she go through every possible emotion. What a loss it was to cinema when she retired, as great a loss as Garbo. Please MOMA get that restored print out on DVD, so that this great classic can be seen in all its glory!

In the Golden Age of Hollywood, amid the storied eons of the great glamor stars, you had the Stanwyckian tough cookies, the Rogers-like high society sophisticates, and the Garboish fragile beauties - but no one was quite like the Jazz Age wild child Clara Bow. When she made an entrance, she burst onto the screen like a whirlwind and didn't look back, positively exuding earthy vitality. That she didn't have a significant sound career is truly unfortunate, for one's imagination plays happily with the notion of Clara bawdily defying the frigid censors well into the culturally stolid war years. Though we didn't get much in that way, CALL HER SAVAGE is fortunately a picture worth a thousand words.

Okay, the first ten minutes make it look like a dusty old western, but STAY WITH IT...otherwise you'll be missing one of the boldest and brightest pre-Code items this side of CONVENTION CITY. When Clara first appears on horseback, the wind blowing through her hair, you will be transfixed for the remainder of the show. The narrative opens in Texas, with a rich landowner punishing his tomboy daughter Nasa (Clara) by sending her off to Chicago for charm school. He also has latent motivation in wanting to marry her off to the man of his choice. Once in the big city, Nasa becomes known as "Dynamite" in the tabloids for her volatility and elopes with a slippery charmer instead of her intended beau. He strays, so to speak, as soon as their honeymoon, leading Clara to take her leave. From here, it's a road to ruin and back again for the young lady, with a startling secret in store for her at the climax. A free-form blend of western, romantic comedy, tragedy, and everything in between, CALL HER SAVAGE takes (sometimes jarring) turns from comedy to pathos, creating an absolutely unique experience.

I can only imagine how Joseph Breen and his ilk must have gnashed their teeth over this film - virtually every scene seems to have been calculated to drive them up the wall. For all its brazenness, it's surprising that CALL HER SAVAGE was a Fox production, for one would expect it more from Warner Bros. We first see Clara in a tight-fitting white shirt, enthusiastically whipping a snake - then a handsome ranch hand when he laughs at her! Clara then tears off a portion of her shirt to tend to his wounds (my, hasn't that one been appropriated time and time again!). Further mix in race relations, prostitution, and an attempted rape of Nasa by her STD-ravaged husband ("Don't get up" she cautions. "I GET UP every afternoon!" he answers). And don't miss the detour to cinema's very first gay bar where the waiters sing about sailors in pajamas (!). On a seedier level, there's a brief but unsavory taste of pederasty when a drunken old fool approaches a little girl.

But it's Clara who makes this movie. The early scenes of her scantily clad and writhing on the grass have a palpable erotic charge that no black and white vintage can dilute (remember, this was the woman who sat through a stage performance of Dracula dressed in a fur coat - and little else). I really hope that Clara is well remembered today, for she was TRULY a star and incredible personality. A lively, vital, and eternally beautiful free spirit. But there was always a touch of sadness in those big, childlike eyes, wasn't there...

Beautiful, in a modern way (contrast with co-star Thelma Todd), facile with her lines, natural with her mannerisms, this lady can act! And she has a fine voice, so the "couldn't make the transition to talkies" bit doesn't apply here.

And the off-screen items that supposedly led to her decline are pretty lame explanations. I mean, suing someone who embezzled her was supposed to be scandalous? Even back then? What was she supposed to do, sue by proxy? I smell a John Gilbert-style studio sabotage of a "difficult star" here.

Back to the film. Call Her Savage is a Bow vehicle throughout, showcasing her broad range. Though an interesting nature-vs-nurture yarn, with frank pre-Code allusions to sexual kink and promiscuity which give us a peek into the mentality of the age, the stagy mannerisms that are the baggage of the silent era make for a somewhat dated melodrama. And the direction is pretty awful, too. But Bow manages to isolate herself from these drawbacks; in fact, throughout the film, she distinguishes herself from her surroundings. Isn't this star power?

Ordinarily, this film would score a6 or 7, but I give it a 9 because it's a rare opportunity to watch an actress whose star never should have faded.

It is sad that the demons in Clara Bow's life curtailed a career in talking motion pictures that would have seemed promising. She positively sizzles in Call Her Savage.

The film has Clara cast as one wild child Texas heiress, granddaughter of Willard Robertson and daughter of Estelle Taylor. Robertson has his hands filled with her and finally sends her off to school in Chicago.

After that the post flapper era men just flock to her. But Clara sets her sights on dissolute playboy Monroe Owsley, taking him away from Thelma Todd. Owsley is brutally frank about his male privilege telling Todd in no uncertain terms as he's allowed to stray because after all he pays the bills. The chick fight that Bow and Todd engage is one for the books, much better than Marlene Dietrich and Una Merkel in Destry Rides Again.

Clara's ride goes up and down from the wild child to the degradation of prostitution to back up on top again. Through it all the reason for her wildness is given in the explanation of her heritage. Her one true friend in the end is grandfather's faithful ranch hand Gilbert Roland and what they have in common.

I agree with another reviewer that the film is both sexist and racist and glories in it. It's also brutally frank and no wonder Joseph Breen and his crowd got such fits over films like Call Her Savage.

A great before the Code film and a sad reminder in what we lost when Clara Bow couldn't make more films like this.