Prestige

Is very good as Verlaine, military man assigned to field outpost in Saigon circa 1900's. His wife, Therese Verlaine is portrayed by Ann Harding, whose father is in charge of her husband's assignments.

When she first embarks to join her husband, her father issues the speech as quoted on title page. ..."It is their job to uphold higher standards to restore order....to rise up to the upbringing and status of the white man"... . This he says is "prestige" (which today is rather out of context, the word prestige in America has been decimated to a materialistic meaning and has nothing to do with honor or pride in today's America. Sadly, I might add.

However, it is an interesting antiquated viewpoint. Verlaine is in charge of a rather ramshackle bamboo prison in the third world country then known as, Annam (later North and South Vietnam). Captain Verlaine tries to rule with an iron fist at first as we see a prisoner is executed for a petty crime in the most brutal fashion. There is some sort of gallows device made of bamboo. The scene is very effective and believable.

Then Captain Remy Baudoin arrives as he is friends with Therese and wants to see if she is surviving the jungle and heat. He somewhat cheers her up, to which Verlaine becomes drunk, jealous of his wife's friendship and angry at his overall job requirements. Douglas is believable here, while very young and unless most of us check the credits we would not be sure this was him.

The natives eventually revolt, as Therese first visits the prison and is shocked at the conditions. She is disturbed that her husband maintains such a facility, for native peoples whose primary crime is poverty. They eventually revolt but succumb in the end, Captain Verlaine has restored order.

While the story is a bit unreal at times, the photography (mostly filmed in Venice, FL) is intriguing and realistic, we can feel the heat and what it must be like to live in a bamboo hut in 104 degree, humid temperatures.

Well worth seeing for the era, the dialog and Douglas in an early dramatic role. 9/10.

This 1931 film held my interest for about 30 minutes into the film which was filmed on location in Venice, Florida instead of a Indochinese jungle location. Lt./Capt. Andre Verlaine, (Melvyn Douglas) intends to marry a woman he is very much in love with and is given news that he is going to be assigned to a penal colony and there is no place for a woman to live. The woman is Therese Du Flos Verlaine, (Ann Harding) who is very upset about this assignment by the British Army. However, Capt. Remy Boudoin, (Adolphe Menjou) is very interested in Therese and is the man sending Andre to this penal colony to separate him from his love and seek her attention for himself. This story drags on with lots of boozing by Andre and he begins to lose respect from his fellow soldiers who are all natives. If you like Ann Harding and Melvyn Douglas, this is the film for you.

I think what one reviewer said is true - people in North America in those days had not a clue what Vietnamese looked like, as many in the penal colony shown in "Prestige" are black.

This film has to do with colonialism, and the power or prestige, if you will, of the white man. It was filmed in Florida; somehow Hollywood often made you believe their sets or U.S. locations were Europe or the Tropics or the jungle.

Prestige is not in great shape and some of it was difficult to understand. Melvyn Douglas is a French officer in the army, assigned to oversee a penal colony in Indochina.

Capt. Andre Verlaine (Douglas) is engaged to marry the lovely Therese Du Flos (Ann Harding), but when he finds out where he's going, the marriage is put off. She has another man interested -- Remy (Adolphe Menjou). After a while, though, Therese talks her father (Ian McLaren), a Colonel, into letting her join Andre.

Unfortunately for her, Andre is a bit like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. He gets where he's going and turns into a whack job almost immediately. When Therese arrives, he's passed out on the floor from booze. He's been driven crazy by the heat, the bugs, the humidity, and the isolation.

He and Therese marry and he makes an attempt at straightening himself out, and Therese tries to adapt to the country. Meanwhile, Andre is trying to get a transfer.

When Remy arrives and informs Andre that he has to stay at the post indefinitely, he snaps and becomes jealous of Remy and Therese, believing she wants to be with him.

Tay Garnett, who directed, was trying out some new camera work in this film, doing tracking shots and using a lot of dolly shots. Originally in films, the camera couldn't be moved - I think many directors were experimenting with this new freedom.

I did see some criticism of the acting. Let me say it was very 1930s. Melvin Douglas had many mood changes, and they were very dramatic ones No matter what his instinct told him -- and I feel he was one of the greatest actors ever -- the style in those days was way, way over the top as compared to now.

If he came off as unstable and almost like a multiple personality, it's because, let's face it, the character probably was just that. Not a well man by any stretch. Douglas had so few opportunities to do anything with a range in it until his older years, it was kind of nice to see him do this.

Odd movie, depressing in spots, its point of view strange, but it's a good study of what colonialism was like.

The mostly B director, who made a lot of exotic back-lot adventures (his amusing memoir is called "Light Up Your Torches and Pull Up Your Tights"), is blessed with the most mobile camera 1931 could offer in this impressively atmospheric melodrama, set mainly in an Indochine penal colony, where bride Ann Harding has come to help commanding officer Melvyn Douglas. Garnett and his DP roam all over the place, with some tracking shots that are quite amazing for their time--one, taking Harding and Adolphe Menjou from a hotel lobby to a train station, lasts a couple of minutes and takes in every word of dialog, and is perfectly framed. Some of the tracking isn't to any particular purpose, but it's a lesson in how versatile the sound camera had gotten in just two years (compare this to anything from 1929). The premise is offensively racist and may have raised some eyebrows even in its day: As Harding's stiff-upper-lip father tells her, in so many words, she and Douglas are fighting for the white man's prestige and dignity, by proving their ability to lord it over all other races. But if you can put up with that, you get a sweaty, compelling little picture with some show-stopping set pieces. Harding is, as always, womanly and unforced, with an innate calm, and Douglas, replacing Robert Williams, who died unexpectedly, convincingly goes through some awful mood swings. It's very well and innovatively shot on what may be an RKO back lot but sure looks like the real thing. The climax strains credibility, and Garnett pushes harder for atmosphere than he absolutely has to, but it's interesting throughout and quite different from much of the assembly-line studio product of the day.

This is RKO's entry in the "White Man's Grave" genre. Being an Ann Harding (queen of the women's picture) vehicle, it lacks the ineffable luridness of most early Hollywood jungle melodramas (White Woman, Red Dust, Panama Flo, etc.). Instead, it generally takes the high road in delineating a French colonial officer's descent into despondency and alcoholism in a sweaty Southeast Asian outpost. Enough politically-incorrect dialog and flouting of accepted morals does creep into the picture to place it in the pre-code realm, but much less than one might expect.

Although long-forgotten, the film definitely has many points to recommend it. The ever-reliable Hollywood helmsman Tay Garnett here evinces a startling obsession with keeping the camera moving -- it's just one complex tracking shot after another, with several long pans thrown in. When the camera does remain static, it's often to emphasize a dramatic moment, and quite effectively so.

Also, long before the infusion of liberal ideals into Hollywood's view of third-world relations, this picture's take is surprisingly modern. The protagonists learn their lesson in dignity from a remarkably loyal and noble native servant (played by the great thespian Clarence Muse). At the same time, the clearly delineated incompatibility between the French and the natives shows the futility of the "white man's burden" philosophy.