Le signe du cobra

Might as well quote from the recent career article I wrote on MARIA MONTEZ, due for publication in CLASSIC IMAGES some time soon:

"She began work in 1944 on a film requiring her to play twin sisters--usually a stretch for any actress but even more so for Maria Montez, whose acting ability had never really convinced anyone except diehard fans that she was up to performing solo. Nevertheless, she took it as a challenge to do "Cobra Woman" ('44) and ardent fans of the actress consider it their top "camp" favorite.

She was so visible in "Cobra Woman" that it was impossible to ignore her still heavy accent, literally talking to herself on screen, as when she tells the Queen, "I have dee-cided to marry Martok and I dee-mand your consent." She played two opposite types, Naja, the evil Queen leading a tribe of snake worshippers, and Tollea, a simple, kind-hearted peasant girl.

Only a few critics came to her rescue, one of whom was Lee Mortimer, N.Y. Daily Mirror: "If you were a producer with a cast of thousands, a corny tale, a stage-set volcano island, several reels of technicolor film and Miss Montez, what would you do? Probably what Universal did. Cast her in a double role. Undress her in both, as much as the law and Will Hays allow, and let nature take its course."

Others were more inclined to simply state: "It has every known variety of corn." (Alton Cook, N.Y. World Telegram) Still, the sight of Montez in a twin role (one good, one bad) writhing in a weird sort of belly dance to King Cobra, selecting subjects with a wave of her hand to be sent to their death by volcanic fire, is something to behold. It was also noted that here her royal deportment was never on more display, strutting around her island domain with all of the natives at her beck and call.

Despite the silliness of the script, it was directed (of all people) by Robert Siodmak, who would later demonstrate his skill in directing another actress in a more serious dual role at the same Universal studio--Olivia de Havilland in 'The Dark Mirror'."

This, for me at age 9, was not so much a film as an absolutely terrifying experience, the memory of which kept me awake at nights for weeks afterwards (seen on Tuesday 13 February 1945 at the Empire Cinema, Glossop). The jungle, the volcano with its flames reflecting on the faces of the actors, the snakes, the extraordinary and frightening costumes, the sinister drumming music, the bright colour with green costumes and orange flames, the terrifying and evil expression on the face of the Queen, Kado's blowpipe - all these made up a cocktail of complete terror, and I stayed in the cinema only because I was with friends and was ashamed to show my feelings. I was far too young to be aware of any niceties in the way of crudities of dialogue or acting technique, and the whole thing was simply an unbelievable cinema experience, which can never, never be forgotten. What a shame if this remarkable creation is lost to us for ever!

Priceless camp. Deliriously gratifying good-twin/evil-twin struggle for religious power (for good or evil) over isolated island kingdom. Forties movie morality at its most unreal. Evil (i.e. sexy) twin's cooch-dance causes death. Good twin's frigid immobility brings life and, as one giddy handmaiden in nylon veils cries, freedom to "worship as we choose!" Narcissistic Maria Montez obviously adores playing with herself, and makes both twins florid and fruity. I'd love to have a VIDEO or SCRIPT of this eye-popping, unique hallucination. Sample of style: When the island rumbles from volcanic activity, someone always mutters, "Fire mountain angry!"

Cobra Woman was directed by Robert Siodmak just as he was embarking on his peerless string of black pearls: Phantom Lady, Christmas Holiday, The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry, The Suspect, The Spiral Staircase, The Killers, The Dark Mirror, Cry of The City, Criss Cross and The File on Thelma Jordon. And that's a bitter pill to swallow.

The movie harks back to styles of moviemaking which the noir cycle, which Siodmak was so instrumental in creating, was putting blessedly to rest: To Saturday-matinee serials and boys' stories like Treasure Island, to South Seas excursions like Rain and Red Dirt and White Cargo, to gaudy, escapist musicals. And yet Cobra Woman achieves an almost solitary stature; only Vincente Minnelli's Yolanda and The Thief, from the following year, challenges its reputation as a movie so wildly overblown it's unhinged.

There's little point in rehashing the plot, which centers on twins separated at birth: Tollea, a sweet native girl engaged to marry an American; and Naja, high-priestess of a snake cult that practices human sacrifice. Rightful heir Tollea is kidnaped so she can depose her evil sister and placate the Fire Mountain (a cheesy back-lot volcano). Supporting parts are taken by Jon Hall, Lon Chaney, Jr., Sabu and a loinclothed chimpanzee.

A thickly-accented native of the Dominican Republic, Maria Montez plays, sensibly, both twins (giving Siodmak good practice for Olivia De Havilland's similar dual role in The Dark Mirror). Cobra Island, her domain, in its outlandish costumes and grandiose sets, puts to shame those elephants-and-all productions of Aida staged in the Baths of Caracalla; this Technicolor nightmare gives a sneak-preview, in its prurient take on pagan excess, the cycle of Biblical epics that were just down the road for Hollywood.

But neither Cecil B. DeMille (in Samson and Delilah) nor Douglas Sirk (in Sign of the Pagan) nor Michael Curtiz (in The Egyptian) – nor even, for that matter, Minnelli (though he came closest) – could rival Siodmak's big set-piece: Naja/Montez performing the Cobra Dance. Clad in a snake-scale gown, she shimmies awkwardly for His Undulating Majesty himself, King Cobra, until he strikes at her (a mating gesture? Reptiles can be so ambiguous). She erupts into a frenzied spasm, hurling accusatory fingers at sacrificial victims who will then be made to climb the Thousand Steps to the angry maw of Fire Mountain.

It would be reassuring to write off Cobra Woman as some sort of failed allegory, about Fifth Columnists, or Free French vs. Vichy, or something; but no such evidence exists. The movie is what it is, and utterly astonishing.

I once showed part of this film to a friend (now deceased.) who said testily that he'd seen it a long time ago. But once the Universal-International dancers' Cobra number got going, he said he was hooked and was literally rolling on the floor having forgotten how truly great it was! (This was, no doubt due to the consummate klutziness of these dancers!)

One Maria is great but two are truly great and maybe she and her costar Jon Hall should have been cast in the infinitely greater "Thief of Bagdad" which did at least have Sabu. (Now maybe these two couldn't really act but then neither could the actual leading couple in "Thief".)

A camp gem with the Queen of Technicolor.