Prestige

For those interested in prevailing (or at least socially acceptable) American attitudes toward Third World colonial territories and non-white races in 1932, this film is a potent educational tool. Melvyn Douglas plays a French army officer who is assigned to supervise a prison camp in the boonies of Indochina, the inmates of which seem to spend half their time drinking and gambling and the other half lying on their backs in a barracks with their feet manacled. Douglas, whose character disintegrates into alcoholism from the relentless heat, humidity, isolation and boredom of his post, leaps from one emotional state to the next; he hits each note with power and gusto, but there is no gradation between the notes, giving his behavior an unstable, almost schizophrenic effect; one wonders if this was the fault of the script, the director, the editor or Douglas himself. Ann Harding as the sweetheart who follows him to Indochina and Adolphe Menjou as a rival French officer deliver their standard performances. Director Tay Garnett indulges in frequent tracking shots and almost constant dollying and wobbling around furniture, doorways, mirrors or whatever is available. Yet somehow the film has a sluggish feel. The soundtrack of the print I saw on TCM has deteriorated so that some dialogue exchanges are difficult to understand.

Early on Ian MacLaren as Harding's father (also an army officer) explains to her that the most important thing to remember while in Indochina is the "prestige" of the white race. This concept echoes throughout the film as Harding repeatedly reminds Douglas to keep his head up, i.e., physically embody his racial prestige. Indochina itself, as represented on what must be the RKO-Pathe back lot, is populated mostly by not only Asians but also by other non-white races. Douglas's personal servant (Clarence Muse) is black. Perhaps the French, for their own reasons, shuffled their non-white subjects from one colony to another or the filmmakers ran out of Asian extras and thought any other non-Caucasians would do as "natives." For tropical atmosphere, there is the inevitable brief shot of crocodiles plopping into a river as well as a shot of a swarm of ants on a table where Harding has left an open box of chocolates (why the candy hadn't melted to syrup in the umpteen hours/days she has been traveling upriver in the tropics is not explained). Toward the end, during a mutiny, Douglas manages to intimidate an armed, seething mob by holding his head up, removing his gun and marching through them, swiping various menacing individuals on the face with his whip, causing them to draw back. For some reason never made clear, there are repeated shots of natives operating a huge water wheel; it's picturesque. All of the characters except Harding and Menjou are seen sweating profusely in every shot. Strange, because these two actors are the most overdressed for the climate.

I think what one reviewer said is true - people in North America in those days had not a clue what Vietnamese looked like, as many in the penal colony shown in "Prestige" are black.

This film has to do with colonialism, and the power or prestige, if you will, of the white man. It was filmed in Florida; somehow Hollywood often made you believe their sets or U.S. locations were Europe or the Tropics or the jungle.

Prestige is not in great shape and some of it was difficult to understand. Melvyn Douglas is a French officer in the army, assigned to oversee a penal colony in Indochina.

Capt. Andre Verlaine (Douglas) is engaged to marry the lovely Therese Du Flos (Ann Harding), but when he finds out where he's going, the marriage is put off. She has another man interested -- Remy (Adolphe Menjou). After a while, though, Therese talks her father (Ian McLaren), a Colonel, into letting her join Andre.

Unfortunately for her, Andre is a bit like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. He gets where he's going and turns into a whack job almost immediately. When Therese arrives, he's passed out on the floor from booze. He's been driven crazy by the heat, the bugs, the humidity, and the isolation.

He and Therese marry and he makes an attempt at straightening himself out, and Therese tries to adapt to the country. Meanwhile, Andre is trying to get a transfer.

When Remy arrives and informs Andre that he has to stay at the post indefinitely, he snaps and becomes jealous of Remy and Therese, believing she wants to be with him.

Tay Garnett, who directed, was trying out some new camera work in this film, doing tracking shots and using a lot of dolly shots. Originally in films, the camera couldn't be moved - I think many directors were experimenting with this new freedom.

I did see some criticism of the acting. Let me say it was very 1930s. Melvin Douglas had many mood changes, and they were very dramatic ones No matter what his instinct told him -- and I feel he was one of the greatest actors ever -- the style in those days was way, way over the top as compared to now.

If he came off as unstable and almost like a multiple personality, it's because, let's face it, the character probably was just that. Not a well man by any stretch. Douglas had so few opportunities to do anything with a range in it until his older years, it was kind of nice to see him do this.

Odd movie, depressing in spots, its point of view strange, but it's a good study of what colonialism was like.

Like virtually all films of its era that deal with Africa, the Middle East and the Far East, this one is totally matter-of-fact about the impact of colonialism on the affected nations and their people, and instead concentrates on the hardships suffered by Europeans assigned there. Melvyn Douglas, ordered to command a penal colony in French Indo-China, falls victim to heat, boredom, loneliness; so severe is his decline into alcoholism and despair that not even the arrival of his beloved, Ann Harding, is able to pull him out of it for long.

The prisoners would gladly trade his problems for their own. What lifts this melodrama out of the realm of the ordinary is the outstanding work of director Tay Garnett, particularly his use of a very mobile camera and the construction of perhaps a dozen long tracking shots that are stunning to behold. It is always notable when conventional material is transformed into on-screen excellence by the talent behind the camera, as well as in front of it. Here is a prime example.

Is very good as Verlaine, military man assigned to field outpost in Saigon circa 1900's. His wife, Therese Verlaine is portrayed by Ann Harding, whose father is in charge of her husband's assignments.

When she first embarks to join her husband, her father issues the speech as quoted on title page. ..."It is their job to uphold higher standards to restore order....to rise up to the upbringing and status of the white man"... . This he says is "prestige" (which today is rather out of context, the word prestige in America has been decimated to a materialistic meaning and has nothing to do with honor or pride in today's America. Sadly, I might add.

However, it is an interesting antiquated viewpoint. Verlaine is in charge of a rather ramshackle bamboo prison in the third world country then known as, Annam (later North and South Vietnam). Captain Verlaine tries to rule with an iron fist at first as we see a prisoner is executed for a petty crime in the most brutal fashion. There is some sort of gallows device made of bamboo. The scene is very effective and believable.

Then Captain Remy Baudoin arrives as he is friends with Therese and wants to see if she is surviving the jungle and heat. He somewhat cheers her up, to which Verlaine becomes drunk, jealous of his wife's friendship and angry at his overall job requirements. Douglas is believable here, while very young and unless most of us check the credits we would not be sure this was him.

The natives eventually revolt, as Therese first visits the prison and is shocked at the conditions. She is disturbed that her husband maintains such a facility, for native peoples whose primary crime is poverty. They eventually revolt but succumb in the end, Captain Verlaine has restored order.

While the story is a bit unreal at times, the photography (mostly filmed in Venice, FL) is intriguing and realistic, we can feel the heat and what it must be like to live in a bamboo hut in 104 degree, humid temperatures.

Well worth seeing for the era, the dialog and Douglas in an early dramatic role. 9/10.

This is RKO's entry in the "White Man's Grave" genre. Being an Ann Harding (queen of the women's picture) vehicle, it lacks the ineffable luridness of most early Hollywood jungle melodramas (White Woman, Red Dust, Panama Flo, etc.). Instead, it generally takes the high road in delineating a French colonial officer's descent into despondency and alcoholism in a sweaty Southeast Asian outpost. Enough politically-incorrect dialog and flouting of accepted morals does creep into the picture to place it in the pre-code realm, but much less than one might expect.

Although long-forgotten, the film definitely has many points to recommend it. The ever-reliable Hollywood helmsman Tay Garnett here evinces a startling obsession with keeping the camera moving -- it's just one complex tracking shot after another, with several long pans thrown in. When the camera does remain static, it's often to emphasize a dramatic moment, and quite effectively so.

Also, long before the infusion of liberal ideals into Hollywood's view of third-world relations, this picture's take is surprisingly modern. The protagonists learn their lesson in dignity from a remarkably loyal and noble native servant (played by the great thespian Clarence Muse). At the same time, the clearly delineated incompatibility between the French and the natives shows the futility of the "white man's burden" philosophy.