Kongo

Walter Huston steps into Lon Chaney's wheelchair to play the evil crippled magician commanding a "juju" cult of natives who burn women alive. Lupe Velez is on hand [and narrowly escapes getting her tongue twisted out with a wire]. Enter blonde Virginia Bruce, a convent girl forced into prostitution in Zanzibar, but now a hopeless alcoholic. Enter Conrad Nagel, a doctor who is now a hopeless drug addict [his cure involves being covered with leeches and buried up to his neck in a swamp]. Don't worry: there's still MORE plot! Everyone sweats a lot, on leftover sets from RED DUST, but the direction is rudimentary and lacks the courage of the plot's kinkiness. Still, it's some kind of must-see since they sure don't make them like this anymore!

The acting was so avant-garde for a 1932 version, I had to go back to the schedule twice to make sure it was filmed in the early days. I've seen Emmy-winning 1999 TV soaps that didn't have the shine the soapy scenes here have. Lupe Velez was, to me, a very untalented stock actress until I watched her in this tropical human-condition story. She almost outshines Walter in her portrayal of a love-starved wench stuck in an outland of men. But both women did better, in my opinion, than some of the Actors' Guild graduates today. Thanks.

This is a talkie remake of WEST OF ZANZIBAR (1928) which, alas, is one of the few of the legendary Tod Browning/Lon Chaney collaborations which has eluded me thus far. To begin with, I was shocked to learn that William Cowen (who only directed 6 films during his brief career, this being his most substantial effort) made the lackluster OLIVER TWIST (1933; which I watched only a few weeks ago) soon after! Anyway, KONGO is not really a horror film – but, with the accent being on sadism and degradation, it certainly makes the most of the liberal Pre-Code attitude of the time. Besides, you can almost feel the humid jungle atmosphere: actually, apart from a few of the Chaney films and this one, MGM did several other African-set adventures during this time including TRADER HORN (1931), RED DUST (1932) and the Johnny Weissmuller/Maureen O'Sullivan "Tarzan" films (1932-42). Walter Huston is as commanding as ever in Chaney's old role (though he had originated it himself on stage!) – even if he wasn't quite his equal, I think, particularly where pathos is concerned. Interestingly, the film's plot is also quite similar to that of THE SHANGHAI GESTURE (1941) – which also stars Huston but where his role is more or less reversed! The entire cast is excellent (C. Henry Gordon' role, replacing Lionel Barrymore from the original, is brief but pivotal) including, surprisingly, the 'romantic' leads (Virginia Bruce and Conrad Nagel) – though that's because their roles are complex rather than insipid, as was the norm during this time. As for Lupe Velez – who had been Chaney's daughter in WHERE EAST IS EAST (1929) – the passage of just 3 years has seen her relegated to 'other woman' types and, despite receiving second billing, her role is basically a supporting one (especially since Velez practically disappears during the latter stages of the film).

The film drags in spots and is perhaps overlong for its purpose; however, there's an abrupt passage of time – in which we never get to see Bruce's descent to the skids at Huston's hands – which confused me at first into thinking that she was actually her own mother! Huston exerts his grip on the fearsome, gullible natives by the use of magic tricks (including, ironically, the decapitation routine I had seen only a couple of days earlier in Browning's THE SHOW [1927]!; could this have been used in WEST OF ZANZIBAR, too?) and a lot of rather silly chanting of mumbo-jumbo. While I knew of the plot revelation, it's still very effectively handled; indeed, given Cowen's non-reputation, I have to wonder how this film compares scene by scene with the original, i.e. whether the director here consciously copied Browning and that's why KONGO is so powerful! Curiously, Huston's comeuppance at the hands of the natives he had exploited for so long is strikingly similar to that of ISLAND OF LOST SOULS (1933) – though it's considerably less graphic (also because here we're not told what really happened to him {is it the same with WEST OF ZANZIBAR?}, whereas we know what Dr. Moreau's fate is going to be without having to actually witness it).

I doubt that the film's reputation is solid enough to justify a stand-alone (and most probably bare-bones) DVD release from Warners – and, despite the obvious connection, I would think it'd be out of place on an eventual second set of Lon Chaney vehicles; still, I would very much like to have an official DVD edition of this one, also because my copy froze for an instant during a crucial scene

A beautiful, young woman is mentally and physically tortured by a rival of her father. Bizarre, to say the least. VERY very brutal even by today's standards. The film opens with a decapitation! There's also rape, whippings, drug abuse, torture, incest...basically the works. It's very surprising that MGM let this film be made let alone released! It's a really good movie but very tough. For strong stomaches only.

Flint (Walter Huston) is a grizzled, twisted paraplegic holed up in the African jungle where he lords it over a tribe that mistakes his cheap vaudeville magic tricks for supernatural powers and provide him a living by running trade missions from which he profits handsomely. He also controls the whole area for miles around due to some sort of ill-explained mumbo-jumbo involving a magical circle called "ju-ju" which dooms anyone who dares to trespass. But his main focus in life is to lure, trap and wreak vengeance on Gregg, a rival who once upon a time fought him, kicked him in the spine and paralyzed him below the waist. Through plot machinations too complicated to detail, Flint manages to entrap Gregg's innocent daughter (Virginia Bruce), subject her to physical and psychological torture, then lure the father to the scene of the crime, where he hopes to revel in the man's despair before doing away with both father and daughter. To keep his mind focused during the long years of planning of this feat he marks off the passing months on a crude homemade calendar emblazoned with the words "he sneered," which keep fresh the memory of the facial expression of his nemesis after the paralyzing kick.

All the while he hangs out with two cronies and a vivacious Portuguese girl (Lupe Velez at her most engaging) who seems to be in a constant state of heat. They are surrounded by strapping black natives who obey orders in return for occasional cubes of sugar which has the same effect on them as a biscuit to a dog. Everyone glistens with perspiration.

The outrages he perpetrates against the captured Virginia Bruce are evidently so horrid that the film doesn't even show them. One moment we see her as a prim young lady preparing to venture out of the convent and the next time we see her she is a fever-crazed basket case who apparently lives on brandy. The contrast is so stark and sudden that for a while it's not clear that we are still watching the same actress. Into this bizarre setup staggers Conrad Nagel as a doctor who has become addicted to a local intoxicating root. Huston breaks the doctor's addiction by piercing his torso with a knife and then tying him to a log in a swamp so that leeches can suck the poison from his system, then having sobered him, enlists his services to perform surgery to stop the pain from his spinal injury. And on and on it goes, as overstuffed a scenario as one is likely to see.

Huston also played this role in the original Broadway stage version of this piece in 1926 and clearly has an actor's field day, dragging his limp limbs across the stage, hoisting himself into a wheelchair, scowling with his scarred face and permanently squinting eyes and breaking into demented peals of laughter as he abuses poor Virginia Bruce. It would be hard to find any other early 30s film in which a young, attractive female is allowed to look so messed up for so long. There is something startlingly modern in the way her long, gnarled blonde hair falls loosely over her shoulders. The only signs of makeup on her face are the sometimes obviously drawn-in naso-labial creases and under-eye bags that are supposed to indicate exhaustion and dissipation. She tries hard to give a good performance and often succeeds. There are some lovely moments between her and Conrad Nagel as they realize they are falling in love. Nagel also gives his best and manages to squeeze charm and gallantry out of a role that might have been written for Dwight Frye at his weirdest.

In sum, the persuasiveness of the plot is only medium. The impact comes from the exotic setting, the outlandishness of the goings-on and the insane intensity of the central character. It has more the feel of a talky thriller than an engrossing dramatic narrative. This is one of two stylish 1932 films in which Huston plays a fanatic in the tropics, the other being Rain. Despite the problems, it really should be seen to be believed.