Fool's Paradise

Conrad Nagel returns from the Great War hoping to make a lot of money in the oil patch just across the river from Mexico, and an ache in his heart for Parisian dancer Mildred Harris, who visited the invalids when he was wounded. He writes bad poetry about her. Meanwhile, across the river, cantina girl Dorothy Dalton has quarreled with her boyfriend, knife-throwing Theodore Kosloff. She heads to the good old U. S. A. And gets a job at the cigar stand in the hotel that looks to be the only permanent structure for miles around. She sets her cap at Nagel, but he only has thoughts for Mlle Harris. So when she shows up in town to perform, he buys a ticket. But Miss Dalton is so angry at him for not loving her back, she gives him an exploding cigar, which worsens his injuries from the war. He goes permanently blind while La Harris is dancing. Miss Dalton does an impromptu imitation of Harris, which fools Nagel, and they wed to live in his hardscrabble shack. But along comes miraculous eye surgeon Guy Oliver, who cures Nagel, and gets an annulment when he discovers whom he as married, just as the well next to his gushes, making him a millionaire.

Are you following this? Because the overwritten titles don't help much either. And it gets even worse, with sacred crocodiles almost devouring Mlle Harris' glove, and Nagel, too. Demille occasionally went over the top -- anyone who has seen MADAME SATAN will agree with that. However this cast can't handle that sort of ridiculousness, although Miss Dalton makes a try. If you're like me, you won't let that deter you from seeing this -- it is Demille. But be forewarned.

While Cecil B. De Mille could be ponderous and simple minded - think the first 10 COMMANDMENTS or THE PLAINSMAN - he occasionally had the knack of adding enough self mockery into his work to make it fly. I though it was the contribution of the writers on THE CRUSADES and UNION PACIFIC but here we get it in a 1921 movie with an obsessive poet whose tribute gives the woman he idolises the giggles, a floozie whose attempts to go Florence Nightingale have her send for a cook book and a star dancer whose presentation is as ridiculous as her admirer's poems.

Put them in oil rush El Paso and equally art directed Bali and provide a plot that Chaplin would re-cycle in CITY LIGHTS. What's not to love.

We get the swarming crowd scenes that De Mille featured (was he working with Richard Rosson yet?) and some remarkable effects work along the way.

Conrad Nagel gives a career best performance, doing his part with absolute seriousness which plays off the film's excesses. What's missing? Well another great score by Neil Brand which also tells us we'll have a better time if we don't laugh. It shapes the presentation impeccably.

This DeMille hokum drags on and on and on. And given the hammy acting of Dorothy Dalton, Mildred Harris and Theodore Kosloff, it's truly painful. Truly painful.

When all else fails, DeMille builds over-the-top spectacle to distract from the weak story line and to pad the film and make it longer than it needs to be.

The only saving grace here is Conrad Nagel's underacting. DeMille had a penchant for these exotic female types which he assumes allows the likes of Harris and Dalton to ham it up with every gesture prolonged and exaggerated.

WOOF WHAT A DOG!

The 40 year old Cecil B. DeMille certainly exploits the new woman in this film. He uses her as sex symbol and a chosen representative of the middle class woman. Ethnic and working class women used her as a point of reference for assimilation and inclusion.

I didn't feel anything when I watched this film except boredom. There was no real story to it, and the only redeeming feature that it had was that it paid attention to detail in relation to the costumes and setting. I think DeMille makes a better than he does a director.