Blood and Sand (Rouben Mamoulian, 1941)

Tyrone Power in Blood and Sand

Cast: Tyrone Power, Linda Darnell, Rita Hayworth, Alla Nazimova, Anthony Quinn, J. Carrol Naish, Lynn Bari, John Carradine, Laird Cregar. Screenplay: Jo Swerling, based on a novel by Vicente Blasco Ibáñez. Cinematography: Ernest Palmer, Ray Rennehan. Art direction: Richard Day, Joseph C. Wright. Film editing: Robert Bischoff. Music: Arnold Newman. 

Vicente Blasco Ibáñez's novels aren't read much anymore, but they were a fertile source for screenwriters in the silent era, providing two vehicles for Rudolph Valentino, Blood and Sand (Fred Niblo, 1922) and The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (Rex Ingram, 1921), and two for Greta Garbo, Torrent (Monta Bell, 1926) and The Temptress (Niblo, 1926). It was probably the Valentino connection that led producer and studio head Darryl F. Zanuck to revive Blasco's old warhorse Blood and Sand as a vehicle for Twentieth Century Fox's biggest male star, Tyrone Power. He plays Juan Gallardo, the son of a bullfighter who was killed in the ring. The movie follows Juan's rise and fall, as he becomes the greatest matador in Spain, but finds love and glory too much to handle. It's genuine cornball stuff, with the usual characters: his sweet and devoted wife, Carmen (Linda Darnell); the temptress Doña Sol (Rita Hayworth), who steals him away from Carmen; and the devoted mother (Alla Nazimova) who prays that he'll be gored in the ring just bad enough to get him out of the game that killed his father. Darnell's is a thankless role, and it's not made any better by the decision to include a scene in which Carmen prays to the Virgin and we hear both her prayer and the Virgin's response to it in voiceover. Hayworth is sensational, however, never better than in a scene in which she dances with Manolo (Anthony Quinn), a friend of Juan's who has set out on his own to become a rival bullfighter. The Technicolor cinematography won an Oscar, and some of the credit goes to director Rouben Mamoulian, who wanted to evoke the palette of Spanish painters like Goya and Velázquez. Mamoulian has to be faulted, however, for the thudding obviousness of the death scene of Nacional (John Carradine), one of Juan's friends, who expires with his arms stretched out in a pose that recalls the crucifixes often seen in the film. The bullfight scenes, shot in Mexico, were supervised by Budd Boetticher, who had done some bullfighting there. They are, fortunately for those of us who find the sport repellent, kept to a minimum -- there's more sand than blood to be seen. 

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Rouben Mamoulian, 1931; Victor Fleming, 1941)

MGM's 1941 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a virtual remake of Paramount's 1931 version of the Robert Louis Stevenson novella: John Lee Mahin's screenplay is clearly based on the earlier one by Samuel Hoffenstein and Percy Heath. The similarities are so obvious that MGM, having bought the rights to Paramount's version, tried to buy up all prints of it.* Seeing the two versions back-to-back is a pretty good lesson in how things changed in Hollywood over ten years: For one thing, the Production Code went into effect, which means that the "bad girl" Ivy (Miriam Hopkins in 1931, Ingrid Bergman in 1941) ceased to be a prostitute and became a barmaid. Hopkins shows a good deal more skin than does Bergman, and in the 1931 we see the scars on her back, inflicted by Hyde's whip, whereas in 1941 we see only the shocked reaction of those who witness them. As for Jekyll/Hyde (Fredric March in 1931, Spencer Tracy in 1941), the earlier version gives us a lustier Jekyll -- we sense that he's so eager to marry the virtuous Muriel Carew (Rose Hobart) because he wants to go to bed with her. Tracy's Jekyll indulges in a little more PDA with his fiancée, Beatrix Emery (Lana Turner), than her Victorian paterfamilias (Donald Crisp) would like, but there's no sense of urgency in his attraction to her. It's widely known that the original casting had Turner playing Ivy and Bergman as Beatrix, but that Bergman wanted to play the bad girl for a change -- it's clearly the better part -- and persuaded director Victor Fleming to make the switch. March's Hyde is a fearsome, simian creature with a gorilla's skull and great uneven teeth; Tracy's is just a man with a lecherous gaze, unruly hair, bushy eyebrows, and what looks like an unfortunately oversize set of false teeth. March's Jekyll -- pronounced to rhyme with "treacle" -- is a troubled intellectual, whereas Tracy's -- pronounced to rhyme with "heckle" -- is a genial Harley Street physician who genuinely wants to find a cure for bad behavior. March won an Oscar for his performance, and he does lose his sometimes rather starchy manner in the role. Tracy, I think, was just miscast, though in real life he had his own Jekyll/Hyde problems: The everyman persona hid a mean drunk.

*MGM did the same thing to Thorold Dickinson's 1940 film of Gaslight when it made its own version, directed by George Cukor, in 1944, but didn't succeed in either case.

Queen Christina (Rouben Mamoulian, 1933)

Greta Garbo and John Gilbert in Queen Christina

Christina: Greta Garbo
Antonio: John Gilbert
Magnus: Ian Keith
Oxenstierna: Lewis Stone
Ebba: Elizabeth Young
Aage: C. Aubrey Smith
Charles: Reginald Owen
French Ambassador: Georges Renavent
Archbishop: David Torrence
General: Gustav von Seyffertitz
Innkeeper: Ferdinand Meunier

Director: Rouben Mamoulian
Screenplay: H.M. Harwood, Salka Viertel, Margaret P. Levino, S.N. Behrman
Cinematography: William H. Daniels
Production design: Edgar G. Ulmer
Film editing: Blanche Sewell
Costume design: Adrian
Music: Herbert Stothart

A year later, with the Production Code in full enforcement, this would have been a very different movie, though probably not a better one. It certainly wouldn't have shown Christina and Antonio sharing a room, not to mention a bed, in an inn. It probably wouldn't have suggested so strongly that before Antonio became her lover, Christina had a thing going with Countess Ebba, and almost certainly wouldn't have had Christina kiss Ebba on the mouth. Unfortunately, those little touches of mild naughtiness are pretty much all Queen Christina has going for it, especially if you're looking for some faint resemblance to historical fact. But maybe Garbo is enough. She certainly gives this pseudo-historical melodrama more commitment than it deserves. It was her fourth film with Gilbert, their only talkie, and their last. At least it dispels the myth that Gilbert failed to make the move into sound films because of his voice, which is perfectly fine -- the real reason was alcoholism, which made him unemployable and destroyed his health. The number of uncredited hands that worked on the screenplay, including Ben Hecht, Ernest Vajda, Claudine West, and director Rouben Mamoulian, suggests that it became a problem no one ever quite solved. Today, it is mostly remembered for the final shot of Garbo alone at the prow of a ship that is taking her away from Sweden. The story has it that Mamoulian directed her to empty her mind and think of nothing during the long closeup, to allow audiences to project their own emotions on her character.