White Woman

It's another steamy, lurid romp through the backlot jungle, this time in Malaysia, where poor Carole Lombard suffers from a one-two punch: Her husband committed suicide under suspect circumstances, and the local Brits despise her for working the only job she's allowed, singing sultry Gordon-Revel ballads in a mixed-race bar. (She's dubbed, I'm sure of it.) There she meets Charles Laughton, expertly playing years above his 34, a rubber plantation magnate who struts and revels in abusing his inferiors. Nevertheless she marries him, it's her only out, and journeys upriver to his sorry domain, which is where the Red Dust ripping off really begins. His overseer is Kent Taylor, and we know there's going to be a triangle, which expands into a quadrangle when new overseer Charles Bickford arrives, oozing testosterone and stirring up trouble. Wildly dated and decadent as it is, it's great pre-Code fun, with uprising, spears, native drums, decapitations, and Laughton looking like he's having a blast. Stuart Walker, a director of little note, ably keeps the pace brisk, and the atmosphere sweltering.

Given the title and the basic premise one unfortunately expects it, but there is nonetheless definite racism that pervades 'White woman,' with further colonialist overtones on top. True, for the most part these constitute an element of the setting, and background for the plot, more than an active part of the story - and at that, to an extent it's written into the nature of the antagonist. Still, like the exposition's treatment of Judith that is borne equally from sexism and a classist sense of propriety - a catalyst for the plot - and an instance of animal cruelty, it's a harsh touch that one must recognize before getting to the heart of the feature. Moreover, in the last act, the racial and cultural prejudice woven into the writing becomes still more prominent, enhancing the distasteful flavors of the whole. Though in a different way, I'm reminded of the 1934 Faye Wray horror vehicle 'Black Moon' - a title that had strong potential, and carried much value, but was substantially weighed down by the abject bigotries on display in the very fabric of the plot. There's a lot to like here, to be sure, but the counterbalance is deeply regrettable.

That's the bad news, and to some degree it distracts from the facets to be praised. The good news is that the core is otherwise very strong. The screenplay is wonderfully engaging in relating the story of desperate individuals struggling in one way or another against the manipulative figure that lords over all around him. The broad strokes of the narrative are compelling and satisfying, as is the scene writing that comes across as ably dynamic and charged. Characters show depth and complexity, and the dialogue is alternatingly rich and biting. Moreover, looking to those details that round out the picture, I appreciate the attention to costume design, hair and makeup, and set design and decoration. I think Stuart Walker demonstrates a capable hand as director in arranging shots and scenes, and there's some fine use of lighting here, as well.

Very importantly, the cast rather impresses. Even as they're given fairly high billing, Kent Taylor and Charles Bickford find themselves in supporting roles as David and Ballister only slightly larger than that of Percy Kilbride as Jakey - yet all illustrate a certain poise and strength of personality in their comportment that works wonders to help build the whole. Carole Lombard, comedic genius that she was, takes a turn in a purely dramatic part in 'White woman' as Judith. It seems clear that she was best suited to comedy - but also that she was not to be counted out in straight roles, as she exhibits a refined subtlety to her acting, and measured forcefulness befitting the put-upon lead character.

As much as I love Lombard, however, it's Charles Laughton who most catches my eye in this picture, admittedly at least in part just because Horace H. Prin is so distinct from the other figures in the story. Prin is boastful and grandstanding as he wields power and holds secrets over those in his circle, but is at heart both cowardly with a wide ranging nervous energy. Laughton is an absolute joy to watch as he navigates the intricacies of Prin's huge personality with gratifying range, physicality, and otherwise traits exceeding those even of Lombard and the other costars. Solidly made as 'White woman' is in its craft, so much of the feature's strength lies in the broad strokes of the writing and in the acting, and Laughton is the linchpin of it all.

This film walks a very, very fine line between what is appropriate for the story on hand, and what is shameful (and all too typical of early cinema especially, but also Hollywood in general). The way that native people are depicted and spoken of in the screenplay is sufficiently dubious to detract from the overall worth. At the same time, though, the unnamed tribes in the surrounding jungle are presented not as villains, but as victims likewise subject to Prin's dealings, and who in the end contribute to the provision of a very satisfying ending. This aspect by no means absolves the feature of the prejudice it dallies with, but is an improvement relative to other titles. Case in point - I had mentioned 'Black Moon' only as a point of comparison in noting the racism prevalent in 'White woman,' and it's worthwhile to draw upon that comparison once more. In 'Black Moon' the current of racism is emphatically just as strong as any of the flick's advantages; in 'White woman' the place of similar bias in the story shifts the balance toward a slightly more even-handed approach. It's far from perfect, and frankly a content warning should be appended in this instance, but I understand the tack 'White woman' was ideally taking - only, the writers lacked the tact to complete the image as it should have been.

I would not for one moment begrudge anyone who watches this movie and adopts a harsher, more critical stance than I have. For all that it does well, there's no getting around handling of cultural and racial prejudice that is shaky at best. I'm inclined to think, though, that there's just enough nuance in the role that the indigenous people play in the plot to place a higher cap on one's assessment than we may for another movie with similar issues. With one big caveat in mind, in its entirety I think 'White woman' rises above the worst of its unseemliness to be an enjoyable, noteworthy drama - just perhaps not as essential a viewing experience as it could have been.

...from Paramount Pictures and director Stuart Walker. Carole Lombard stars as Judith Denning, a nightclub singer with a sordid past stuck in a Third World country where the white governors don't want her around. She reluctantly agrees to marry Horace Prin (Charles Laughton), a rich but repellent owner of a Malaysian rubber plantation. Known as the "King of the River" , Prin runs things with an iron fist and a maniacal twinkle in his eye. It doesn't take long for Judith to regret her decision, what with the horrid weather and seething natives. She's also being chased by a pair of her husband's employees: handsome Army deserter David (Kent Taylor) and swaggering new overseer Ballister (Charles Bickford).

This plays like a mash-up of A Lady to Love and Island of Lost Souls. The filmmakers re-used the sets from the latter film, and Laughton gets to ham it up in a delightful way, with an exaggerated accent, peculiar manners, and silly haircut and mustache. Lombard looks terrific, but she doesn't have much to do other than excite the guys in the cast while looking sad. Bickford doesn't show up until later in the movie, but he's worth it with his macho, no BS characterization clashing wonderfully with Laughton's sadistic weirdo. Like most exotic locale movies of the era, this one is more than a little racist, and the bungled depiction of the natives adds to the movie's bizarre "charm".

Sensibilities have changed in 90 years that it's difficult to get into the swim with "White Woman", a well-shot and acted Paramount feature rooted in Colonialism but saved by the usual tour de force performance by Charles Laughton. It's hard to imagine another actor in his role.

Opening reel seems to be a familiar tale of prejudice and ostracism: star Carole Lombard looking fabulous and even singing (direct sound) a couple of torch songs as a cafe singer down on her luck in some Far East British colony (likely set in Straits Settlements). Her husband committed suicide, and folks look down on her working in a cafe frequented by locals.

But soon she's married Laughton, self-proclaimed King of the RIver, who from humble beginnings has bought up most of the island. With a unique walrus moustache, he's a very odd fellow, full of sarcasm and even some self-deprecatory humor as he lords it over all and sundry. A couple fo studs understandably lust after Lombard, with the sjurprise of Charles Bickford, young and overconfident, even taking a shower and having an unlikely beefcake role.

When Laughton literally spits in the faces of a couple of higher-rank natives, things look glum for the white folks, as a rebellion begins. Chuck has a couple of impressive machine guns with plenty of ammo for just such an occasion, but he's thwarted byt the white guys he keeps under his thumb working for him, leading to a truly memorable climax, in which violence is tastefully delivered off-screen.

It's probably worth mentioning that this jungle islands "farrago", as Simon Callow calls it in his biography of Laughton, is set in Malaya, not Africa. In those days it was still part of the British Empire, which accounts for Laughton's cockney accent. In addition, at the dinner party on Laughton's river-boat (about 20 minutes into the film), his new wife (Carole Lombard) says she'd like to learn Malay.

This was the last of the handful of films which Laughton made for Paramount during 1932-33 under a short-term contract (the others being Devil and the Deep, Sign of the Cross, If I Had a Million, and Island of Lost Souls). Callow thinks Laughton's acting is both original and preposterous: "giggling and teasing and play-acting, screwing up his eyes, scratching his head, pulling at his moustache and using a whole battery of tics."

It's certainly preposterous that the Carole Lombard character would ever have considered marrying such an unpleasant person as Laughton makes him, so this fatally weakens the story. On the other hand, she has little choice, having been ostracised by the British community who would like to see the back of her. The mysterious suicide of her husband has forced her to earn a living singing in shady bars, so Laughton's proposal of marriage, coupled with his claim that he owns a great deal of land up river, offers a way out of her predicament. It's only when she arrives at his house-boat that she realises what she's got herself into, and seeks solace with some other, rather more pleasant, male members of the cast.

Laughton's Horace Prin has never been considered in the same breath as his Henry VIII, Captain Bligh, or Quasimodo. Even so, it is still probably worth seeing, if only as an example of his early Hollywood work.