As one who appreciates an older flick or two, I grow increasingly saddened by the fact that today’s audiences will rarely – if ever – give any attention to the productions of the bygone era.
For example, the local theater chain in my state sponsors Tuesday Night Classics, an ongoing series that celebrates the productions of yesterday with bargain-priced screenings every – you guessed it – Tuesday eve. The curator of the series arranges this line-up reasonably well in advance; and the company does take patron suggestions via email. (I know this as I’ve submitted a good number of titles over the years.) The only problem I have with such events is that it’s pretty rare for any legitimately older films – except the truly well-known ones – to see the flickering light from the projectors. While it’s great for opportunities to see Citizen Kane (1941), Casablanca (1942), or Singing In The Rain (1952) annually, I’m still aghast that offerings like Legally Blonde (2001) or How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days (2003) somehow have it easy taking an available slot in the rotation.
For this reason, I’m forever thankful that Turner Classic Movies continues broadcasting a vast catalogue to truly classic films, ones that probably deserve the occasional dusting off and restoration even though folks aren’t exactly clamoring for something tried-and-true. Once a week, I scroll through their guide and set recordings for those truly old pictures that tweak my interest, keeping the reliable DVR filled with an eclectic assortment of genre films for the occasional rainy day. I hope I’m not the only cable customer that still does this, and yet I long ago came to terms with the fact that I’m an ‘old dog’ to many. So be it … and get off my lawn.
Last night’s theatrical treat: 1934’s Tarzan And His Mate, the second cinematic production to feature Olympic swimmer Johnny Weissmuller in the role that made him a household name.
The athlete headlined an astonishing twelve different pictures delivering the signature Edgar Rice Burroughs’ creation to the silver screen spread across sixteen years. While these motion pictures were still found reasonably well in television syndication of my youth, they’ve all but vanished today. A 2016 flick – The Legend Of Tarzan starring Alexander Skarsgard, Samuel L. Jackson, and Margot Robbie – performed admirably at the box office but failed to fuel any lasting resurgence for one of the stronger characters to emerge from the days of pulp novels; thus, anyone seeking a return-to-form really has to search hard into filmdom’s deep, deep past to see how influential a muscular man in little more than a loincloth could have been.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
For example, the local theater chain in my state sponsors Tuesday Night Classics, an ongoing series that celebrates the productions of yesterday with bargain-priced screenings every – you guessed it – Tuesday eve. The curator of the series arranges this line-up reasonably well in advance; and the company does take patron suggestions via email. (I know this as I’ve submitted a good number of titles over the years.) The only problem I have with such events is that it’s pretty rare for any legitimately older films – except the truly well-known ones – to see the flickering light from the projectors. While it’s great for opportunities to see Citizen Kane (1941), Casablanca (1942), or Singing In The Rain (1952) annually, I’m still aghast that offerings like Legally Blonde (2001) or How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days (2003) somehow have it easy taking an available slot in the rotation.
For this reason, I’m forever thankful that Turner Classic Movies continues broadcasting a vast catalogue to truly classic films, ones that probably deserve the occasional dusting off and restoration even though folks aren’t exactly clamoring for something tried-and-true. Once a week, I scroll through their guide and set recordings for those truly old pictures that tweak my interest, keeping the reliable DVR filled with an eclectic assortment of genre films for the occasional rainy day. I hope I’m not the only cable customer that still does this, and yet I long ago came to terms with the fact that I’m an ‘old dog’ to many. So be it … and get off my lawn.
Last night’s theatrical treat: 1934’s Tarzan And His Mate, the second cinematic production to feature Olympic swimmer Johnny Weissmuller in the role that made him a household name.
The athlete headlined an astonishing twelve different pictures delivering the signature Edgar Rice Burroughs’ creation to the silver screen spread across sixteen years. While these motion pictures were still found reasonably well in television syndication of my youth, they’ve all but vanished today. A 2016 flick – The Legend Of Tarzan starring Alexander Skarsgard, Samuel L. Jackson, and Margot Robbie – performed admirably at the box office but failed to fuel any lasting resurgence for one of the stronger characters to emerge from the days of pulp novels; thus, anyone seeking a return-to-form really has to search hard into filmdom’s deep, deep past to see how influential a muscular man in little more than a loincloth could have been.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“The idyllic life of Tarzan and Jane is challenged by men on safari who come seeking ivory and come seeking Jane as well.”
The truth is that Tarzan And His Mate opens, and the seminal swinger is nowhere to be seen. It really isn’t about until twenty-minutes in that actor Weissmuller and his Jane (played by the fetching Maureen O’Sullivan) make their entrance; and this is because the story as crafted by James Kevin McGuinness, Howard Emmett Rogers, Leon Gordon, and Bud Barsky set the stage by introducing two different teams of treasure seekers – one shown briefly while the other becomes the main focus – in pursuit of fortune and glory that ties inevitably to Tarzan, Jane, and the fabled Elephant’s Graveyard where an endless supply of ivory tusks awaits.
Harry Holt (Neil Hamilton, who would eventually famously play Commissioner Gordon in the late 1960’s Superhero series Batman) has come to Africa with hopes of convincing the lovely Jane Parker to abandon her fascination with swinging from vines and return to London. Though he realizes his chances are slim for winning her heart and hand from the Lord of the Apes, he’s come prepared to shower her with – get this – dresses and perfume, the likes of which she hasn’t seen since leaving civilization behind. Martin Arlington (Paul Cavanagh) has joined Holt on this adventure chiefly because he, too, has heard tales of the woman’s beauty as well as the promise of boundless ivory; so he’s willing to risk life and limb for a chance to touch Heaven on Earth and maybe even ‘bring it back alive.’
Once Holt and Arlington find themselves in somewhat dire straits in the dense jungle, Tarzan and Jane make their grand entrance, essentially saving the day and agreeing to serve as guides to the elusive and distant elephant burial grounds. Along the way, Holt begins to realize that he really hasn’t a chance to steal Jane’s heart, a development which only causes his somewhat dastardly partner to increase his own advances on the lady. After they reach the graveyard only to lose Tarzan’s support as the ape man realizes that the hunters are only after the ivory, Arlington double-crosses Tarzan privately, seemingly shooting and leaving him for dead.
Now, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize our hero is still alive. Why, his name is in the title, after all! And – last I checked – this is his franchise. Still, there’s a bit of misdirection, most of which is dramatically necessary for Jane to come to grips with losing the love of her life and realize there’s no life for her in the jungle sans her fallen hubby and protector. But trying to abscond with all that ivory draws the ire of natives who’ve long protected the mythical lands, leaving Holt, Arlington, Jane, and their remaining team in a predicament that only the original ‘Lord of the Apes’ can rescue them from if he can make it back in the nick of time.
So, yes, there’s a fair amount of predictability in the second half of Tarzan And His Mate, mostly because any franchise property has fairly established parameters around which probably every adventure operates. Tarzan emerges from every encounter not entirely unscathed – he tangles with lions, tigers crocodiles, as well as the occasional jungle native – and has the scratches to prove it. While modern audiences might take issue with such a pale skinned male emerging as almost the – ahem – white conqueror over such lawless lands, audiences of old (and those of us who remember this is meant to be entertainment, for Pete’s sake!) will still most likely accept this as the pure escapism it was meant to be. Speaking in broken English, Tarzan is portrayed as a muscular simpleton who represents mankind’s best primal instincts – if it belongs to the jungle, then he’ll see the jungle retains it – so I never put much stake in those ideas that suggested ideologically was intended to be some ‘white savior.’ He’s white. Sure, he saves the day. But that’s as far as that hogwash got with me.
“The idyllic life of Tarzan and Jane is challenged by men on safari who come seeking ivory and come seeking Jane as well.”
The truth is that Tarzan And His Mate opens, and the seminal swinger is nowhere to be seen. It really isn’t about until twenty-minutes in that actor Weissmuller and his Jane (played by the fetching Maureen O’Sullivan) make their entrance; and this is because the story as crafted by James Kevin McGuinness, Howard Emmett Rogers, Leon Gordon, and Bud Barsky set the stage by introducing two different teams of treasure seekers – one shown briefly while the other becomes the main focus – in pursuit of fortune and glory that ties inevitably to Tarzan, Jane, and the fabled Elephant’s Graveyard where an endless supply of ivory tusks awaits.
Harry Holt (Neil Hamilton, who would eventually famously play Commissioner Gordon in the late 1960’s Superhero series Batman) has come to Africa with hopes of convincing the lovely Jane Parker to abandon her fascination with swinging from vines and return to London. Though he realizes his chances are slim for winning her heart and hand from the Lord of the Apes, he’s come prepared to shower her with – get this – dresses and perfume, the likes of which she hasn’t seen since leaving civilization behind. Martin Arlington (Paul Cavanagh) has joined Holt on this adventure chiefly because he, too, has heard tales of the woman’s beauty as well as the promise of boundless ivory; so he’s willing to risk life and limb for a chance to touch Heaven on Earth and maybe even ‘bring it back alive.’
Once Holt and Arlington find themselves in somewhat dire straits in the dense jungle, Tarzan and Jane make their grand entrance, essentially saving the day and agreeing to serve as guides to the elusive and distant elephant burial grounds. Along the way, Holt begins to realize that he really hasn’t a chance to steal Jane’s heart, a development which only causes his somewhat dastardly partner to increase his own advances on the lady. After they reach the graveyard only to lose Tarzan’s support as the ape man realizes that the hunters are only after the ivory, Arlington double-crosses Tarzan privately, seemingly shooting and leaving him for dead.
Now, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize our hero is still alive. Why, his name is in the title, after all! And – last I checked – this is his franchise. Still, there’s a bit of misdirection, most of which is dramatically necessary for Jane to come to grips with losing the love of her life and realize there’s no life for her in the jungle sans her fallen hubby and protector. But trying to abscond with all that ivory draws the ire of natives who’ve long protected the mythical lands, leaving Holt, Arlington, Jane, and their remaining team in a predicament that only the original ‘Lord of the Apes’ can rescue them from if he can make it back in the nick of time.
So, yes, there’s a fair amount of predictability in the second half of Tarzan And His Mate, mostly because any franchise property has fairly established parameters around which probably every adventure operates. Tarzan emerges from every encounter not entirely unscathed – he tangles with lions, tigers crocodiles, as well as the occasional jungle native – and has the scratches to prove it. While modern audiences might take issue with such a pale skinned male emerging as almost the – ahem – white conqueror over such lawless lands, audiences of old (and those of us who remember this is meant to be entertainment, for Pete’s sake!) will still most likely accept this as the pure escapism it was meant to be. Speaking in broken English, Tarzan is portrayed as a muscular simpleton who represents mankind’s best primal instincts – if it belongs to the jungle, then he’ll see the jungle retains it – so I never put much stake in those ideas that suggested ideologically was intended to be some ‘white savior.’ He’s white. Sure, he saves the day. But that’s as far as that hogwash got with me.
In many ways, O’Sullivan’s Jane emerges as a surprising screen equal. Given the character's pedigree, she’s along for the ride to underscore the moral particulars of why Tarzan does what he does: without her interpretation and the occasional dissertation, the ape man would be little more than a jungle-aged Superman-lite. She loves him – and says so – not because he’s an athletic with the body to prove it but because his heart and motives remain pure to the law of the land. The fact that he’s in peak physical condition is just an added bonus. But it’s she who gives words to the growing fable surrounding the love of her life, and her scenes arguably are as important as any of his feats of strength.
Visually, Tarzan And His Mate is quite the spectacle, so much so that even decades later I’m not entirely sure how they accomplished everything they did here without significant loss of life and limb. Actors and vicious animals share several frames; and a few sequences hint as to how much risk there was and remains today when trying to shift several pieces of the food chain about in the same mix. Though a few bits are rather obvious screen trickery, its nothing that detracts significantly from the derring-do, something that was a necessity in screen adventures of this sort. Sadly, we don’t get thrills like this today without CGI; and, yes, it makes me feel old sometimes just watching it done old-style.
For those of you who relish flicks of this sort, Tarzan And His Mate was still pre-code Hollywood, meaning it was shot entirely before the Hays Code was instituted to prohibit certain – erm – more salacious images and dialogue. As such, there’s a wonderful underwater swimming sequence of private time shared between the jungle’s ‘husband and wife’ that’s sexier than many R-rated films achieve even today; and that’s definitely saying something for what storytellers could accomplish in days of old. While it may not be O’Sullivan’s feminine form on display (the film credits Olympic medalist Josephine McKim as the swimming double), it’s still a deliciously sensuous ballet that I’ve read understandably stoked a bit of controversy even back in the day.
It's also worth noting that in 2003 the film was inducted into the U.S. National Film Registry, the organization that seeks to preserve features that have demonstrated lasting aesthetic or cultural appeal to the medium.
Tarzan And His Mate (1934) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM).
Yes, it makes me feel old knowing that Tarzan And His Mate (1934) still resonates as a worthy theatrical endeavor; and yet I don’t feel bad about it. The story is timeless in a way that only the best classics deliver. While the script kinda/sorta misses out on the opportunity for Tarzan to get vengeance against those who may’ve done him wrong, the character was never about seeking retribution: rather, he was about being a steward to the land and the creatures who inhabited it, so thematically all is well in the jungle. Excellent performances and some outstanding visuals make this one worth its running time in the price of gold … or make that ivory.
Highly Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for my thoughts on Tarzan And His Mate (1934) as I viewed it via television broadcast on Turner Classic Movies with my very own subscription.
-- EZ
Visually, Tarzan And His Mate is quite the spectacle, so much so that even decades later I’m not entirely sure how they accomplished everything they did here without significant loss of life and limb. Actors and vicious animals share several frames; and a few sequences hint as to how much risk there was and remains today when trying to shift several pieces of the food chain about in the same mix. Though a few bits are rather obvious screen trickery, its nothing that detracts significantly from the derring-do, something that was a necessity in screen adventures of this sort. Sadly, we don’t get thrills like this today without CGI; and, yes, it makes me feel old sometimes just watching it done old-style.
For those of you who relish flicks of this sort, Tarzan And His Mate was still pre-code Hollywood, meaning it was shot entirely before the Hays Code was instituted to prohibit certain – erm – more salacious images and dialogue. As such, there’s a wonderful underwater swimming sequence of private time shared between the jungle’s ‘husband and wife’ that’s sexier than many R-rated films achieve even today; and that’s definitely saying something for what storytellers could accomplish in days of old. While it may not be O’Sullivan’s feminine form on display (the film credits Olympic medalist Josephine McKim as the swimming double), it’s still a deliciously sensuous ballet that I’ve read understandably stoked a bit of controversy even back in the day.
It's also worth noting that in 2003 the film was inducted into the U.S. National Film Registry, the organization that seeks to preserve features that have demonstrated lasting aesthetic or cultural appeal to the medium.
Tarzan And His Mate (1934) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM).
Yes, it makes me feel old knowing that Tarzan And His Mate (1934) still resonates as a worthy theatrical endeavor; and yet I don’t feel bad about it. The story is timeless in a way that only the best classics deliver. While the script kinda/sorta misses out on the opportunity for Tarzan to get vengeance against those who may’ve done him wrong, the character was never about seeking retribution: rather, he was about being a steward to the land and the creatures who inhabited it, so thematically all is well in the jungle. Excellent performances and some outstanding visuals make this one worth its running time in the price of gold … or make that ivory.
Highly Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for my thoughts on Tarzan And His Mate (1934) as I viewed it via television broadcast on Turner Classic Movies with my very own subscription.
-- EZ
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