Fille de feu

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 ****

Beautiful, in a modern way (contrast with co-star Thelma Todd), facile with her lines, natural with her mannerisms, this lady can act! And she has a fine voice, so the "couldn't make the transition to talkies" bit doesn't apply here.

And the off-screen items that supposedly led to her decline are pretty lame explanations. I mean, suing someone who embezzled her was supposed to be scandalous? Even back then? What was she supposed to do, sue by proxy? I smell a John Gilbert-style studio sabotage of a "difficult star" here.

Back to the film. Call Her Savage is a Bow vehicle throughout, showcasing her broad range. Though an interesting nature-vs-nurture yarn, with frank pre-Code allusions to sexual kink and promiscuity which give us a peek into the mentality of the age, the stagy mannerisms that are the baggage of the silent era make for a somewhat dated melodrama. And the direction is pretty awful, too. But Bow manages to isolate herself from these drawbacks; in fact, throughout the film, she distinguishes herself from her surroundings. Isn't this star power?

Ordinarily, this film would score a6 or 7, but I give it a 9 because it's a rare opportunity to watch an actress whose star never should have faded.

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!

This is a tale of tragedy with a very old fashioned message - that the sad life of the protagonist Nasa Springer (Clara Bow) is part God's vengeance for the sins of the fathers, and part the result of her heritage, because Nasa is half Indian and thus has a savage nature. Cue eye rolls.

The film opens on a 19th century wagon train with the head of the wagon train, Silas Jennings, openly cheating on his wife and also getting violent with anybody who calls him on it. One man says that the Indian attack that the wagon train suffers and the resulting dead are God's judgment and talks about the sins of the father passing on to Silas' further generations. Next the film is in Texas, eighteen years later, and Silas' daughter Ruth has married her childhood sweetheart Pete. But Pete has no time for romance since he wants to get rich quite badly. Sad and neglected Ruth strikes up a friendship with a well educated and handsome Indian, Ronasa, and the two have an implied affair. The fruit of that affair is Nasa. (Didn't Pete think it strange that his wife basically named her after Ronasa? But I digress.)

So about 18 years later we meet grown Nasa (Clara Bow), fiery in both hair color and disposition. She gets into physical altercations, gets sent to a finishing school by her disapproving "dad" and manages to finish off a few of her classmates in fights in the process, rejects dad's choice for her marriage and weds a wastrel, and things just go downhill from there. At times she has money, at other times she doesn't, but she just can't stop being a wildcat.

The end is bittersweet, and the implication is that Bow will end up with "Moonglow" (Gilbert Roland) because the two are racially alike, NOT because all through the years, and the ups and downs, and through Nasa's bad treatment of him at times, this guy is the sweetest nicest person you could ever meet, has always been there for her, and is not bad on the eyeballs either.

Bow's acting is wonderful in this. Fox, at a time when it seemingly could do very little right (1930-1935), managed to make a true classic here, and a true precode, and they managed to do what Paramount never really could do - give Bow a really meaty talking picture role. Bow's outfits take great advantage of her figure, with bold shots of her cleavage and everything else she has above the waist There is plenty of infidelity and the resulting VD that occurs in one case, an attempted rape, prostitution, and a tragic fire. . And all of this from a studio that, at the time, was known for its homespun entertainment for rural folk. Gilbert Roland has a pretty small role, but he is absolutely charming. Thelma Todd is true to her nickname of "Hot Toddy" and almost unrecognizable with that short haircut, vying with Bow for the same men and matching Bow's character insult for insult and hair pull for hair pull when the two get into some very public altercations.

I'd strongly recommend this. It is great precode entertainment even with some of the maudlin melodrama and the muddled message.

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...