Hembra contra hembra

Might as well quote from the recent career article I wrote on MARIA MONTEZ, due for publication in CLASSIC IMAGES some time soon:

"She began work in 1944 on a film requiring her to play twin sisters--usually a stretch for any actress but even more so for Maria Montez, whose acting ability had never really convinced anyone except diehard fans that she was up to performing solo. Nevertheless, she took it as a challenge to do "Cobra Woman" ('44) and ardent fans of the actress consider it their top "camp" favorite.

She was so visible in "Cobra Woman" that it was impossible to ignore her still heavy accent, literally talking to herself on screen, as when she tells the Queen, "I have dee-cided to marry Martok and I dee-mand your consent." She played two opposite types, Naja, the evil Queen leading a tribe of snake worshippers, and Tollea, a simple, kind-hearted peasant girl.

Only a few critics came to her rescue, one of whom was Lee Mortimer, N.Y. Daily Mirror: "If you were a producer with a cast of thousands, a corny tale, a stage-set volcano island, several reels of technicolor film and Miss Montez, what would you do? Probably what Universal did. Cast her in a double role. Undress her in both, as much as the law and Will Hays allow, and let nature take its course."

Others were more inclined to simply state: "It has every known variety of corn." (Alton Cook, N.Y. World Telegram) Still, the sight of Montez in a twin role (one good, one bad) writhing in a weird sort of belly dance to King Cobra, selecting subjects with a wave of her hand to be sent to their death by volcanic fire, is something to behold. It was also noted that here her royal deportment was never on more display, strutting around her island domain with all of the natives at her beck and call.

Despite the silliness of the script, it was directed (of all people) by Robert Siodmak, who would later demonstrate his skill in directing another actress in a more serious dual role at the same Universal studio--Olivia de Havilland in 'The Dark Mirror'."

If the term Camp had never been created, then we'd have to come up with it to describe this deliriously awful, delightfully irresistible trash-masterpiece from the 1940s. Maria Montez (the queen of Camp) plays a pair of sisters, one good and one bad, who vie for control of a voodoo island. In dazzling color, the bad sister dances wildly as the natives all beg for pity, as they know that any one she happens to point to will be executed to satisfy her lust for blood. Jon Hall, later Ramar of the Jungle on TV, is the goodguy, with Sabu as his sidekick. Absolutely hypnotic in its chromotic silliness, and a must-see for all fans of films that truly are so bad that they're good.

This, for me at age 9, was not so much a film as an absolutely terrifying experience, the memory of which kept me awake at nights for weeks afterwards (seen on Tuesday 13 February 1945 at the Empire Cinema, Glossop). The jungle, the volcano with its flames reflecting on the faces of the actors, the snakes, the extraordinary and frightening costumes, the sinister drumming music, the bright colour with green costumes and orange flames, the terrifying and evil expression on the face of the Queen, Kado's blowpipe - all these made up a cocktail of complete terror, and I stayed in the cinema only because I was with friends and was ashamed to show my feelings. I was far too young to be aware of any niceties in the way of crudities of dialogue or acting technique, and the whole thing was simply an unbelievable cinema experience, which can never, never be forgotten. What a shame if this remarkable creation is lost to us for ever!

I once showed part of this film to a friend (now deceased.) who said testily that he'd seen it a long time ago. But once the Universal-International dancers' Cobra number got going, he said he was hooked and was literally rolling on the floor having forgotten how truly great it was! (This was, no doubt due to the consummate klutziness of these dancers!)

One Maria is great but two are truly great and maybe she and her costar Jon Hall should have been cast in the infinitely greater "Thief of Bagdad" which did at least have Sabu. (Now maybe these two couldn't really act but then neither could the actual leading couple in "Thief".)

A camp gem with the Queen of Technicolor.

Released in 1944, COBRA WOMAN was precisely the sort of escapist fare demanded by audiences seeking relief from the horrors of World War II--and over the years it has become something of a cult classic, a wild and riotous mixture of outrageous sets and costumes, ridiculous plot and dialogue, and faintly absurd performances. If you are seeking a mindless romp with tremendous camp appeal, look no further: this film is the goods.

Directed by Robert Siodmak, who go on to become a noted director of film noir, COBRA WOMAN concerns an innocent South Seas maiden (Maria Montez) who is to marry a sailor (Jon Hall)--but who is suddenly kidnapped and whisked off to Cobra Island, where she discovers she is actually the twin sister of the evil high priestess. Can Maria, Jon, a half-naked Sabu, a heavily made-up Lon Chaney Junior, and sarong-wearing monkey overthrow the evil priestess and return the island to peace? Well, maybe, if only Maria can lay hands on the priestess' cobra jewel! The plot is amusing in a silly sort of way, but it is really the style of the thing that makes it such a charming bit of fluff. The best way to describe it is as pure Hollywood: costumes and sets are a truly wild mixture of Arabia, the ancient Aztecs, South America, Carmen Miranda's hats, Dorothy Lamour's sarong, and Joan Crawford's shoulder pads, and Cobra Island comes complete with a bad special-effects volcano just for good measure.

The cast plays with a mixture of sincerity and inadequacy that is very entertaining. Maria Montez was a great beauty of the era and she wears the brilliance of Technicolor like a second skin, and if she clearly wasn't known for either acting chops or dancing skills... well, let's see YOU say lines like "I want that cobra jewel" with a straight face or squirm around in a dress that must weigh a ton without falling off your heels! Jon Hall is appropriate American Male and Sabu is, well, Sabu, and as a friend of mine recently said, "What were expecting? Long Day's Journey Into Night?" No, you won't find any deep meanings here, and thank heaven for it. This purely for the fun of it with no artistic ambitions and as many wild colors as Universal Studios could throw on the screen. So put your brain on hold, grab your cobra jewel, and settle down for some purely mindless pleasure! Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer