Alma Cigana

No one said it was going to be a special thing, but seeing a screening of this incredibly and unexpectedly entertaining, albeit highly improbable, TECHNICOLOR yarn truly was special. Of the so-called Universal "Tits & Sand" Maria Montez Easterns, GYPSY WILDCAT was a departure in that there was very little, if any, sand. "Lush" is the first thing I would say in describing the effect of seeing this gorgeous, no, breath-taking print (screened in Bay City, MI) in color like I'd never seen before. Maria Montez keeps on most of her clothes, even managing to keep the mid-riff covered for much of the running time, and although she isn't much of an actress, she is gorgeous (no, breath-taking!), and she knows how to handle the stuff they've laid out for her to do. Jon Hall operates at a more active, swashbuckling level, and he seems to be having a much better time than a lot of the others in the cast, although I'm not so sure he carries the action so much as the action carries him along on a sort of Errol Flynn-school bubble. When the camera is not fixed on this couple, the entire film is sort of passed along from character actor to character actor, as if they are passing off the baton. Taking things mighty seriously are Leo Carillo and especially Gale Sondergaard, who literally runs the show for the entire climactic gypsy revolt sequence. Her craftsmanlike control during this portion of the film is as much a special effect from these escapist Montez vehicles as the technicolor, or the star's costume changes for Montez. The money went into the color, and the spectacle went into the colorful costuming (by Vera West, who apparently threw open the circus trunks). For all its technicolor marvel, GYPSY WILDCAT isn't a heavily populated opus, nor are the sets terribly unique to any one genre (or film), in fact, it was a losing effort trying to figure out GYPSY WILDCAT's intended time period. I love how James M. Cain has the screenplay credit, with additional dialogue by Joseph Hoffman. All I want to know is, what screenplay, and what additional dialogue? But no matter, it is a fun picture. Douglas Dumbrille and Peter Coe are also quite serious about their very different assignments, and both leave you wishing they'd had larger roles, especially the unexpectedly dashing Coe, who gets to share a few smoldering shots with Montez before Hall shows up. Best of all, Nigel Bruce sputters forth the ham like company's comin' for dinner, and lucky for us he does! Just when the great Nigel seems to be on the verge of silliness, he grabs that baton and leads the picture into the exciting finish! Go, GYPSY WILDCAT!

It is for me the best Roy William Neill's film besides some Sherlock Holmes movies such as SCARLET CLAW. That said it is a splendid adventure movie in the line of Robin Hood material: medieval, settings, character symphony, overall scheme concerning the topic. Maria Montez is excellent as a gypsy woman and Jon Hall unforgettable too, as usual in his other features. It is colorful, action packed, the intrigue not that surprising, but who would be idiot enough to expect anything different from a Hollywood stuff? I always enjoy all those Maria Montez Jon Hall's films, a forever lost charm. Irrepplaceable.

When you consider what Eisenstein would have done if he'd had the opportunity to work in Technicolor one can only savour the irony that Roy William Neill was able to avail himself of that miracle of technology - and had use of a camera dolly which facilitated some astonishingly mobile camerawork at a time when the Technicolor cameras still weighed a ton - on an obvious piece of hack work.

Universal at that time were investing heavily in Technicolor to dress up their otherwise cheap productions and this film's leading men Jon Hall and Peter Coe are so bland they seem to have been deliberately chosen to divert attention from the fact that their leading lady's sole talent was for photographing well in Technicolor (although she certainly looks impressive in puffed sleeves and red boots), while the least funny element is naturally the comic relief of Leo Carrillo and Curt Bois. But the presence of Gale Sondergaard - who along with a bearded Nigel Bruce was probably enlisted from a Sherlock Holmes picture being filmed on an adjacent soundstage - amply compensates.

The film's most obvious economy was in its failure to commission a decent script in the first place, which brings us to the most curious feature of 'Gypsy Wildcat', the presence of the name of author of hard-boiled thrillers James M. Cain among the writers. Thereby doubtless hangs a tale.

This is wild splendid entertainment all the way with no chance for anyone to catch his breath. In a way it is a romantic masterpiece showing off every instance of the Hollywood treasury of magnificent colours and clothes, dances and songs, gypsy carnivals of shows and festivities and an overwhelming good humour all the way. Of course, you recognise most of the wild west settings with furious rides through creeks and lush romantic valleys all over California, but the stage is supposed to be Romania with a spectacular castle crowning the landscape where a very wicked baron keeps forging his intrigues, and a flamboyant love story at the centre of the raving action with one beautiful gipsy girl coveted by three men, of which two eventually die, leaving the door open to the real lovers to live happily ever after - this is Hollywood swashbuckler entertainment at its very best with every possible ingredient enriching the stew and filling it up with gorgeous splendour. They could make films like this even without Errol Flynn, Tyrone Power, Douglas Fairbanks and all the other super heroes. You will find nothing missing here.

Gypsy Wildcat has both the pluses and minuses usually associated with the type of unsophisticated but colourful adventures associated with the Universal screen team of Maria Montez and Jon Hall.

The story line is incredibly lame (incredible than James M. Cain is somehow associated with it), with many of the attempts at humour painful, at best. On the other hand, a good print of this film can truly be a visual joy. This silly film about gypsies and corrupt barons has rich Technicolor and is consistently a pleasure for the eye.

And that includes the cast. Maria Montez was a beauty, no doubt, and even if no one will ever accuse her of being a good actress, somehow her exotic appeal, flashing eyes and grade school dialogue delivery seem very right for this kind of campy material.

Jon Hall, whose career highlight as an actor was seven years before when John Ford guided him to an effective performance in The Hurricane, looks dashing, in an Errol Flynn-kind of way, though he certainly lacked Flynn's flair and personality. As long as he isn't dressed as a clown (which, incredibly, he actually is in a couple of scenes), he's a decent leading man.

The film's second noteworthy virtue, along with its rich Technicolor and two stars, is an above average supporting cast of character actors. Peter Coe, as a gypsy in love with Montez and always helping her, doesn't make much of an impression. Leo Carrillo and Gale Sondergaard both look good, at least, even if their roles aren't much.

Douglass Dumbrille is his usual smarmy self as the film's chief villain, an autocratic official imprisoning the gypsies, but offering them their freedom if gypsy wildcat Montez will marry him. But the best of all comes when the film is nearing its end, with the typically endearing and bumbling performance of Nigel Bruce. Bruce brings this film its most successful moments of humour, and it's a joy to watch the man best remembered today as Dr. Watson in the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes films as he pretty much steals every scene he's in.

I'm happy to report that Gypsy Wildcat has a genuinely exciting climax, with director Roy William Neill (or was it a second unit director?) bringing a sense of fun and zest to a wild coach chase sequence. The sequence is also partially played for laughs, with hero Hall on horseback pursuing the coach, while inside that coach a bumbling Nigel Bruce is trying to marry Montez to Dumbrille.

The sequence is quite beautifully edited, as well as photographed and if what precedes it is not exactly the stuff of a Michael Curtiz epic over at Warner Brothers, this sequence partially compensates for that.

Overall, for those who enjoy unsophisticated undemanding adventure films of this kind, Gypsy Wildcat will probably satisfy them. It's a colourful time waster and an escape, which was, after all, its original intention when it was first released for 1944 wartime audiences. In that respect, the film still succeeds.