I don't mean especial disrespect to anyone involved when I say that I didn't have high expectations. It's just that between norms and values of the time, contemporary sensibilities of storytelling or film-making, and above all filmmakers and actors still adjusting to the new paradigm of sound cinema, features of the early to mid 30s tend to be middling and undistinguished. There are plentiful exceptions, by all means, yet with weak audio, image quality that is often grainy at best, usually a flat or inconsistent tone, and acting and/or direction of variable strength - let alone the question of the writing - many titles released around the same period struggle to make a mark, let alone a particularly good impression. Robert F. Hill's 'Love bound' of 1932, also known as 'Murder on the high seas,' is not immune to these concerns.
It's not that the picture is afflicted by all the above issues all the time, nor in equal measure, but the impact is unmistakable. In a runtime of only sixty minutes the exposition of the first quarter feels muddled, and plot development is bland and soft. Cast members such as Jack Mulhall must be depended upon to try to inject some vitality into the proceedings that is sorely lacked in Hill's direction or even the narrative or scene writing, but those same latter factors, among others, restrict their abilities to do so. Alternatively, under those circumstances performances may feel overcooked, and therefore false and hokey. It doesn't help that the feature makes only infrequent, irregular use of music to help round out rough edges or fill silence where there could be at least some background noise; this is not uncommon for the early 30s, of course, and some flicks get by just fine without - but once again, the overall so-so construction means that this is already facing an uphill battle.
There is potential in the story, perhaps, but it would take a very refined, practiced hand to shape the material into a form even on paper that would hold water, let alone stand out, and Hill, James R. Gilbert, and George H. Plympton lack that hand. An equal lack of refinement in the humdrum execution, captured on film, means that the minutes lackadaisically sail past without us hardly taking notice. Case in point, before I knew it we were already at the halfway mark, and a critical plot point seemed to have already transpired, but it came so unremarkably that I found myself earnestly pondering how we arrived at that juncture. And unfortunately, at no time in the length does the storytelling or film-making boast remotely enough power or vigor to come off any better. 'Love bound' is a cruise, alright, but it's a cruise so passive and smooth that one could be forgiven for thinking the ship never left port.
We can at least say that those operating behind the scenes turned in some fine work, including the sets, costume design, and hair and makeup. But if that's the most significant praise to offer, how far does that get us? Even moments of violence in the last quarter, ably orchestrated in and of themselves, are treated poorly by both the writing and direction, and so amount to nothing of consequence. Even with all this said I don't think the flick is altogether bad. For as mediocre as it is, however, and considering the whole wide world of cinema that otherwise waits to be explored or revisited, why would we spend time here in the first place? I guess I'm glad for those who get more out of it than I do, but while I don't specifically regret watching 'Love bound,' nor can I really give it an honest recommendation.
