Fille de feu

What a film! Daring to tackle issues few films would even look at today. Stunningly photographed and directed, and with greater style than many early talkies. And at its heart is one of the best film performances ever - Clara Bow proves herself to be a magnificent actress in a role that demands she go through every possible emotion. What a loss it was to cinema when she retired, as great a loss as Garbo. Please MOMA get that restored print out on DVD, so that this great classic can be seen in all its glory!

On the face of it, 'Call Her Savage' has all the element needed for a smash hit and a pre-code classic. It is sexy, shows things designed to shock audiences (such as a drag act in a bar) and does not shrink from addressing issues such as prostitution. More importantly, it is also well-acted throughout, with Clara Bow deserving special praise. She displays a range of emotions rarely seen in one actress in one and the same film, and she does so absolutely convincingly: from boisterous fun to despair, it is all there. Still, the film is today almost forgotten: 29 user reviews on this site and on the date I am writing mine is not a lot. Why? I believe there are two reasons. First, the plot is pretty episodic and jumps from one setting to the next - from the ranch in Texas to Chicago, to New York, New Orleans etc. Etc. The episodes are linked by the character played by Bow and by a few minor figures who appear in several of them, but they are so disparate that the audience has no chance to get into the mood of the film, so to say. A secondary issue that is jarring at least for modern audiences is the blatantly racist message of 'Call Her Savage'. Bow's character literally is a 'savage'; her lack of self control and bouts of violence are explained with her Indian ancestry (rather than for example with her father having neglected her). She is a half-blood. The film thus denounces indigeneous Americans as unfit for civilised society, and what is worse, unfit not for cultural but for biological reasons. Hard to stomach. I am rating 'Call Her Savage' seven stars in recognition mainly of Bow's performance.

Lurid-but-fascinating tale of wild half-breed Texas heiress has everything in it, including whippings, prostitution, extra-marital affairs, a neglected baby, and singing homosexuals. Pre-Code stunner boasts Clara Bow's great talkie comeback (after a bunch of so-so talkies) and she is WONDERFUL as well as Gorgeous. Playing Nasa Springer, Bow gets to whip a snake and Gilbert Roland, have a cat fight with Thelma Todd, beat Monroe Owsley senseless, smash a guitar over a servant's head, and run wild from Texas to Chicago to New York City. Clara Bow is great in this film. Too bad Bow made only one more film after this one (the underrated Hoopla).

Estelle Taylor, Weldon Hayburn, Russell Simpson, Fred Kohler, Dorothy Peterson, Margaret Livingston, Anthony Jowitt, and Mischa Auer co-star.

Great line as the father drives up and says "Why are you whipping that man?" Clara Bow answers, "I'm practicing in case I ever get married." Priceless!

CALL HER SAVAGE concerns the tumultuous adventures of a tempestuous, rebellious girl named Nasa Springer (Clara Bow). It is definitely not a film for everyone, as it contains some perverse elements such as a whipping scene. Indeed, CALL HER SAVAGE sometimes approaches high camp, such as in the film's prologue.

Despite the film's rambling storyline, however, it is never dull. This is chiefly due to Clara Bow's remarkable performance. CALL HER SAVAGE is proof that the silent star could easily handle talking films, using a low, throaty voice that matches the sensuality of her looks. Bow runs a gamut of emotions from anger to tenderness to elation to self-pity, and always with passionate conviction. Her performance conveys a well-rounded character who elicits the audience's sympathy and always remains credible, even if the scenario sometimes isn't. CALL HER SAVAGE is a must for Clara Bow fans.

*** out of ****

In the Golden Age of Hollywood, amid the storied eons of the great glamor stars, you had the Stanwyckian tough cookies, the Rogers-like high society sophisticates, and the Garboish fragile beauties - but no one was quite like the Jazz Age wild child Clara Bow. When she made an entrance, she burst onto the screen like a whirlwind and didn't look back, positively exuding earthy vitality. That she didn't have a significant sound career is truly unfortunate, for one's imagination plays happily with the notion of Clara bawdily defying the frigid censors well into the culturally stolid war years. Though we didn't get much in that way, CALL HER SAVAGE is fortunately a picture worth a thousand words.

Okay, the first ten minutes make it look like a dusty old western, but STAY WITH IT...otherwise you'll be missing one of the boldest and brightest pre-Code items this side of CONVENTION CITY. When Clara first appears on horseback, the wind blowing through her hair, you will be transfixed for the remainder of the show. The narrative opens in Texas, with a rich landowner punishing his tomboy daughter Nasa (Clara) by sending her off to Chicago for charm school. He also has latent motivation in wanting to marry her off to the man of his choice. Once in the big city, Nasa becomes known as "Dynamite" in the tabloids for her volatility and elopes with a slippery charmer instead of her intended beau. He strays, so to speak, as soon as their honeymoon, leading Clara to take her leave. From here, it's a road to ruin and back again for the young lady, with a startling secret in store for her at the climax. A free-form blend of western, romantic comedy, tragedy, and everything in between, CALL HER SAVAGE takes (sometimes jarring) turns from comedy to pathos, creating an absolutely unique experience.

I can only imagine how Joseph Breen and his ilk must have gnashed their teeth over this film - virtually every scene seems to have been calculated to drive them up the wall. For all its brazenness, it's surprising that CALL HER SAVAGE was a Fox production, for one would expect it more from Warner Bros. We first see Clara in a tight-fitting white shirt, enthusiastically whipping a snake - then a handsome ranch hand when he laughs at her! Clara then tears off a portion of her shirt to tend to his wounds (my, hasn't that one been appropriated time and time again!). Further mix in race relations, prostitution, and an attempted rape of Nasa by her STD-ravaged husband ("Don't get up" she cautions. "I GET UP every afternoon!" he answers). And don't miss the detour to cinema's very first gay bar where the waiters sing about sailors in pajamas (!). On a seedier level, there's a brief but unsavory taste of pederasty when a drunken old fool approaches a little girl.

But it's Clara who makes this movie. The early scenes of her scantily clad and writhing on the grass have a palpable erotic charge that no black and white vintage can dilute (remember, this was the woman who sat through a stage performance of Dracula dressed in a fur coat - and little else). I really hope that Clara is well remembered today, for she was TRULY a star and incredible personality. A lively, vital, and eternally beautiful free spirit. But there was always a touch of sadness in those big, childlike eyes, wasn't there...