La Déesse rouge

This was one of Warner Brothers' early talking picture experiments, made in late 1929 and released in 1930. The main thrust behind Warner Brothers' being first in talking pictures with "The Jazz Singer" died with its premiere - Sam Warner died just before the Jazz Singer opened. Since the other brothers had been dragged kicking and screaming into the talking picture era, Warner Brothers fumbled around from that point until late 1930 when they truly began to find their stride. This film is from their "fumbling era" of 1928-1930.

That doesn't mean that this picture or any of their other experiments are necessarily bad, it just means that they are truly experimenting at this point with somewhat kooky plots they would never try just a couple of years later. Warner Brothers was very fortunate during this time to continue a long running relationship they had with one star of the stage - John Barrymore - and begin a relationship with another - Mr. George Arliss. His acting is the main reason to watch this film.

Here Arliss plays the wise and wizened Raja of the mythical kingdom of Rukh. The day before his three brothers are to be executed for an assassination of a British official in India, three British citizens crash land in his kingdom, having gotten lost in the fog over the Himilayas. The primitive people of his kingdom, who worship a green goddess, see this as a gift from the goddess - a British life each for the lives of the Raja's three brothers taken by the British. The three British prisoners had quite a bit of drama in their lives even before landing in this mess. Major Crespin (H.B. Warner) has been an unfaithful husband to his wife Lucilla (Alice Joyce), who has forgiven him but not forgotten. The pilot, Dr. Basil Traherne (Ralph Forbes) and Lucilla have been in love for years, but have done nothing about it because Lucilla is still technically married and wants to remain so because of her two children.

The Raja is technically and politically astute. He actually wants to kill his British prisoners as a kind of thumb in the collective eye to the British for keeping the Indians in subjection. However, he is also smart enough to know his "goose would be cooked" if the British ever knew what he did. He also doesn't really want his brothers released, because their deaths eliminate any possible wranglings over his throne should he die before his own children reach adulthood. Learning his lesson from British and Russian history, surviving uncles are not always so kind to the surviving underage progeny of deceased kings. We learn all of this from Arliss' own lips as he gives a superb performance every bit as good as the one he gave in Disraeli, just in a more inane plot.

The Raja does offer one concession, he will spare the life of Lucilla if she agrees to be his consort and bear him a son. He even agrees to smuggle her children out of India and bring them to her so she can raise them. As for the other two, they are pretty much condemned to die, but there is one hope for them all. There is a wireless device in the Raja's castle with which - if they can get access - they might be able to get a message to India. Also, the Raja has as his assistant a man of British birth named Watkins, a condemned criminal if he returns to his homeland, but inside Rukh he is the Raja's link to the culture and habits of the west and, more importantly, the Raja's wireless operator.

The kookiest part of this film - Nigel De Brulier as a wild looking bearded man who is always looking through keyholes and - for some reason - is given to carrying around a trident. I highly recommend this film to the fans of early talkies. This one will hold your interest.

Production values and keen intelligence were low in many pre-war British flicks, but come on! At the beginning a small plane crash lands, carrying a pilot and two passengers, one a woman. The two men stay in the plane for some time, anxious to make sure the woman is all right, though she has not been hurt at all, until finally one of the men remarks that they ought to get out, as the plane might catch fire! So they leave--and then what do they do? Stand next to the plane chatting for several minutes! You couldn't make it up.

It seems they have come down in a remote Himalayan kingdom, which one of them recalls having read about recently. So he walks away from the isolated temple and a few gaping villagers to get a newspaper! As if remote Himalayan kingdoms were routinely supplied with newsstands! And, sure enough, he comes back in a few minutes with what looks like a copy of the Times--unfortunately, two days old. Well, out in the back of beyond, what can you expect?

I was watching this movie for George Arliss, who plays the Rajah, but when he appeared, in jeweled brocade but otherwise his old self--no accent, no change of speech, no darkened skin--I gave up on the green goddess. I think she makes a better salad dressing than a movie.

For the historically challenged it may come as a surprise that once upon a time England (Great Britain) was the foremost power in the World. The Empire which 'The Sun Never Sets On'. Two (2) World Wars and the break-up of that Empire has reduced it too its former colonies Eastern outpost and unsinkable Aircraft Carrier.

THE GREEN GODDESS (1930) is a remake of its silent predecessor, '1923' which was inspired by its stage origin, '1921'. All three featured early 20th Century Stage and Screen Star, George Arliss. Mr. Arliss had a habit of playing eccentric and/or historical characters, first for Warner Brothers then later at 20th Century Fox. This was not the first nor last time that Mr. Arliss would successfully either transfer a stage triumph or remake the silent version for the Silver Screen.

'THE NUTS'; A forced landing of three (3) British subjects in a Kingdom north of India are held hostage by 'The Raja of Rukh' (ARLISS). The price of their freedom, the release of his three (3) murderous half-brothers condemned to death. If not released they will forfeit their lives too the Raja's rather blood thirsty subjects. Who curiously seem to resent the 'British Raj' running of their country, go figure? How does it end just requires that you watch it for it is interesting viewing, nuff said.

The film is unusual for its time for showing the resentment that the indigenous peoples had for their British Over-Lords. Most Hollywood films payed homage to the Empire so they would get wide release and profits from their product. Opponents too 'the Empire' were portrayed as fanatical 'nuts' or worse. Though Mr. Arliss's acting style seems stage bound by todays conventions he is still a commanding presence and recommend not only this film but others he did for viewing.

On a last note, fret not England. Another former empire is our Western outpost and Aircraft Carrier. A former Naval pupil of yours, called Japan. So you are in good company.

I used to own an old VHS tape of "The Green Goddess" (1930), but it's been years since I had any of those old tapes. Yesterday I re-watched this George Arliss vehicle for the first time in at least 30 years, and I enjoyed it all over again. It's dated, yes, and unfortunately Ralph Forbes is in it, a person who never learned to act in sound films, period. But Arliss is such a superb actor that, no matter what, the film is so very fun to watch. He's so full of Victorian stage acting technique that one can't help but be captured by a certain hamminess that screams to the rafters, but it's in his liquid body movements, full of grace and poise, and a voice that registers practice and experience that gives his performances across the board a positive charisma still noticeable 80 years after his death.

The premise of the film is absolute nonsense, a mixture of "Lost Horizon", "Gunga Din", "Frankenstein", "Dracula", and all the revenge films combined. In the end, the British ("civilization") still beat the underdog people in the Himalaya's (India, "barbarians"). The words in parentheses are those of Arliss, who, when he speaks them as a man of India, is scathing in their satiric intent. One can't help but notice that Arliss was having a ball playing this character, even in the face of Winston Churchill's trying to hold on to India as a "piece" of Britain, and Arliss probably saw in his own life that such would not be the long-term fate for Britain.

The main thing that I took away, though, was that the final line in the film I always thought was, "She probably would have been a lot of trouble anyway!" What came out of Arliss' mouth was, "She probably would have been a damn nuisance anyway!" Perhaps Bob Fells could answer this question: were there two versions released? Was one made for British audiences and one for American audiences, or am I just imagining all of this. I've seen the '23 silent version, too, but I don't remember how it ends. Help, Bob!

Also in the film are Alice Joyce (who'd also been in the '23 version), H. B. Warner, Ivan F. Simpson (great personal friend of Arliss' and one who was in many Arliss films), Reginald Sheffield, Nigel de Brulier, and several others.

"The Green Goddess" is a dated piece of colonialist exotica--one of those old-time melodramas hyper-concerned with the purity of white women in the face of lascivious racial others. Its saving grace is the performance by George Arliss as the Raja. Besides acting circles around the rest of the cast--seemingly being the only one here capable of a wry expression or sly mugging for the camera--the cunning he brings to his character seems to extend to a lack of earnestness to the ridiculous role and scenario. He plays a monarch of a fictional kingdom in the Himalayas who affects English manners, while in truth the English actor is affecting an Eastern stereotype. Because Arliss makes light of the melodramatics and doesn't shy away from hamming it up, this creaky early talkie may be enjoyed as something of a guilty pleasure. The Academy wasn't wrong to honor this talent; although he's usually ascribed for having won the Best Actor Oscar for "Disraeli" (1929), he was doubly nominated that season for this film, too, and I think it his better.

Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on one's taste for being amused by others' incompetence, nobody else in "The Green Goddess" appears to be in on the joke. Ivan F. Simpson, despite, like Arliss, reprising the same role from stage, to the 1923 silent-film version and here, is unremarkable. The zealots in bald caps look preposterous. Alice Joyce, returning from the 1923 film, as well, along with the other two British colonialists are atrocious. They merely read their stupid lines and feign earnestness. The married couple's climactic dialogue is laughably bad. Compare it to Arliss's sardonic quips. Some credit, I suppose, deserves to go to those behind the camera for allowing Arliss to play his part, but given that nobody else on screen comes along suggests he's the sole talent in this one. Indeed, the rest of "The Green Goddess" is utter rubbish, but Arliss is a delight.