Shanghaï

Don't believe anyone who tells you this movie is bad - it is wonderful. The casino set with its art deco sculptures is a work of art and the music is superb. The play the script is based on is by John P. Marquand, who wrote the Mr. Moto books. I think in the original Poppy becomes addicted to drugs as well as to Dr. Omar. Gene Tierney is great as the girl who slides into degeneracy. All the ensemble cast are wonderful: the earthy chorus girl, the sinister old Chinese man who says he admires white women for their "intelligence and sense of humour" as his hands outline a voluptuous figure in the air. Mike Mazurski as a thug who acts as an ever-present Fate figure haunting Sir Guy Charteris (Walter Huston). The elderly notable who regrets so politely that he must close Mother Gin Sling's operation down. Mother G herself with her bitter, drawling voice that has foresuffered all. See it if you can! This film is art! (Oh, I forgot the smiling character who plays Chopin in the casino/brothel.)

All Von Sternberg films deserve to be seen on the big screen for their visual beauty, but this one also benefits from videoviewing - you can wind it back at those moments when you HAVE to ask, "Did I just see/hear that???" Gene Tierney would evolve into a fine actress, but she's terrible here -think Elizabeth Berkeley in SHOWGIRLS - only MUCH better looking, so we forgive her. Walter Huston is magnificent as always. Oona Munson seizes her role between her teeth and relishes every bite. "The soles of my feet cut open and pebbles sown into them to stop me running away..." YUCK! The loopy plot makes imperfect sense due to many many cuts by the censors, and maybe Maria Ouspenskaya had more to do in some previous, even madder version of the film, but it's an oneiric, mind-reeling romp of staggering decadence and grandeur. One story has Little Jo directing from atop a crane, from which he would toss silver dollars to actors who pleased him, while he himself claims he directed it lying flat on his back. Neither would surprise me, seeing the result.

Most of those movie review reference books you see floating around in paperback call this film campy idiocy. It's campy only in the sense that it was made at a time when a certain degree of heavy-handedness and melodrama was the norm in films. It's certainly not idiotic. It is a story of perceived betrayal and self-degradation. The play it was based on was considered quite thought provoking and socially daring. The film was somewhat cleaned up but still addressed the main issues. The characterizations are quite involving, especially Mature's.

THE SHANGHAI GESTURE displays what was best and worst in Josef von Sternberg's 'German Expressionist' approach to film making, first seen by American audiences in his classic Marlene Dietrich productions of the 1930s. Each setting is decadent and mysterious, shot in soft focus, and wreathed in smoke; a sense of the absurd manifests itself in make-up, hairstyles, and costume; each character postures, incessantly, striking poses before delivering dialog; and there is always an undercurrent of sexual bondage, here manifested in the casual suggestions made by lazy, yet smoldering 'Dr. Omar' (Victor Mature), to the stranded showgirl, 'Dixie' (Phyllis Brooks), and the initially haughty, if naive 'Poppy/Victoria' (Gene Tierney), both of whom he easily 'bends' to his desires. In von Sternberg's world, there are seldom heroes, only survivors and predators.

Set in a fantasy version of the infamous Chinese port, GESTURE gathers a disparate group of international 'types', and sets them down in the multileveled center of inequity, a gambling parlor run by the legendary Chinese 'Mother' Gin Sling (Ona Munson). Ensnared by their debts, the mysterious woman 'owns' them, possessing an extraordinary degree of power.

Then the equally mysterious and powerful Sir Guy Charteris (Walter Huston) arrives in Shanghai, strong enough to control the local government, and with a goal of evicting 'Mother' Gin Sling, and tearing down her property. There is a shared 'skeleton' in both their closets, however, which she will reveal in the film's climactic 'Chinese New Year' dinner party...

While Munson could never 'pass' as Chinese, she does appear exotic and inscrutable, and is actually quite good, as is Huston, displaying a sensitivity masked in arrogant smugness. The true joy of the film, however, is watching the film's younger stars, early in their careers. Victor Mature, at 26, a year after his 'breakthrough' role in ONE MILLION B.C., poses more than acts in his role of an Arab gigolo, but clearly displays the sexuality that would make him a major heartthrob in the 40s; and Gene Tierney, not yet 21, occasionally overplays the 'fall' of her character, yet possesses the luminous beauty that would become her trademark.

Josef von Sternberg would only direct a handful of films after THE SHANGHAI GESTURE (receiving 'on screen' credit in even fewer), and this would be the last film he would have any kind of creative control over.

Faults and all, that alone would make THE SHANGHAI GESTURE worth viewing!

More weird than exotic, it's like waking up and finding Ming The Merciless in charge of a Las Vegas casino. Then too, Mother Gin Sling's head should be featured in Architectural Digest since it resembles nothing less than the Manhattan skyline. And how wacky is it finding all those central European types hiding out in Shanghai as Chinese of one racial blend or another. No wonder the Chinese consulate complained. Only wacko Hollywood could turn a semi-pornographic play into a trip to bizarro-land and put a visual artist like von Sternberg in charge.

For example, catch that great opening boom-shot of the casino interior where patrons swarm like bees over a hive. Or the surging street crowds that seem to suck the life out of the very air. I think Sternberg could take an empty room and make it visually interesting. No doubt about it, the Austrian director lifts the eye at the same time he depresses the brain. What the heck, for example, did he tell Gene Tierney that turned her from a Miss Manners in one scene into a raging nympho the next. I guess that was supposed to be because of Victor Mature's overwhelming magnetism even though he lounges around like a well-fed garden slug. No doubt about it, the celebrated director preferred postures to people.

Still, where else could a passing stranger buy a girl-in-a-basket instead of the usual chicken. That scene alone is worth all the other nuttiness, like telling us the girls are just- pretend. Yeah, sure. I'll bet the Chinese consulate didn't think so. Even so, you can't blame the screenplay for having more holes than grandma's sieve. This is incendiary material for the Production Code 40's— brothels, hookers, opium dens, babies out of wedlock. How else could enterprising producers get this on screen without a trip to bizzaro-land. The straight- laced Walter Huston must have thought he'd wandered into the wrong sound stage.

Any way you cut it, it's a weird one-of-a-kind-- half camp, half brilliance-- so don't miss it.