User reviews

In spite of a trite and pretty silly scenario and some terrible acting by her supporting men (John Lund and MacDonald Carey) Miss Goddard holds her own. I'm not sure that in history, Lucretia Borgia had a change of heart in murdering her husband, but Paulette does. In some rather over-the-hill make-up, she manages to bring some honest work to her character, even when the script forbids it. Carey comes off better than Lund. Lund seems to be out of place in a costume drama. Carey, looking much like Mandrake the Magician, at least appears evil and menacing as Lucretia's manipulating brother. Raymond Burr, in his early career stage, plays another villain. There is one scene that is priceless. Billy Gilbert, the fat, sneezing, comedian serenades Paulette under the balcony at Lund's wishes. What makes it funny is Gilbert's expressions and a beautiful dubbed voice doing his singing. It's not one of Goddard's best, but it's always good to see her on film, no matter what vehicle she is forced to play. Let us not forget Brando's DESIREE and Anthony Quinn's PORTRAIT IN BLACK.

I have to admit that for the first five minutes or so of watching this film, I had low expectations - my only reason for persevering being the chance to see the lovely Paulette Goddard. It is loosely based - and I mean loosely - on a period in the life of Lucretia Borgia. A tale of love, betrayal and murder, sprinkled with moments of humour that manages to avoid spoiling the story's overall tone.

Paulette Goddard looks her most alluring self, and she the other leads all perform well. Whilst mostly serious, and at times very moving, the story also has moments of light humour. John Lund in particular handles this dual role very ably. Lund is, to my mind, much underrated. His comic timing is good, delivered in a gentle manner, and perhaps it is this that can sometimes give the impression that he is an acting lightweight.

Macdonald Carey plays Lucretia Borgia's devious brother yet, despite this, he is not entirely unlikeable - as he explains to his sister "We live in times when acts of cruelty are sometimes necessary to survive." It is Raymond Burr who, not for the first time, plays the less sympathetic villain here.

There are, as mentioned early, several moments of comedy, and one which stands out for me features a rather portly lute player, who has been paid by Lund to hide in the garden and sing in his place the same love song nightly to Goddard. Finally deciding to succumb to Lund's romantic gesture, she ventures into the garden, only to discover it is not Lund's dulcet tones that have being regaling her - Goddard's fury and the fearful pleading of this hapless singer are wonderful to behold.

What makes this a great film is Paulette Goddard and the costumes. The plot is an interesting travesty on history, and both Lucrezia Borgia and her brother Cesare Borgia are given rather truthful and convincing interpretations by a script, that clearly had the ambition to catch something of the reality of the intrigues of renaissance Italy, succeeding much better than for instance "The Prince of Foxes" of the same year with Orson Welles as Cesare Borgia. But above all, the costumes are impressing, shining in splendour and luxury all the way through, and the music by Hugo Friedhofer adds to the renaissance touch of splendour and drama. The psychological interest of the film is Paulette Goddard's realization of the conversion of Lucrezia Borgia, from as ruthless an opportunist as her brother, to something of an ideal duchess - she devoted her last years almost entirely to welfare and charity and became more famous ultimately for her compassion than for her controversial reputation. There are many charming details as well, the painter, the poets, the ludicruous singer, and John Lund as the duke of Ferrara does his best and comes off all right. Macdonald Carey, though, as Cesare Borgia does even better and is palpably like the real Cesare and makes almost as convincing an interpretation of his character as Paulette Goddard. It would have been a treat indeed to have seen this film in colours. One last remark, Paulette Goddard never smiles throughout the film, being true to her complicated and serious character as twice a widow, but in the last scene she smiles and crowns the film and her performance with exquisite and irresistibly charming light.

Mitchell Leisen's Bride of Vengeance was a box-office flop on its release in 1949 and, as far as I can tell, has not received much critical attention since. It doesn't rank with Leisen's best work but it doesn't deserve to be called "minor" either. It tries to bridge two disparate stories, which do not mesh very well. One is a sexy "woman's picture" about the haughty and fiery Lucrezia Borgia and the other is a would-be "rousing adventure" film about the casting, testing and deployment in battle of a new huge cannon. The audience that would have appreciated the one were uninterested in the other and, realizing they'd only be getting "half a loaf, stayed away in droves. While the film has a few dull spots (all the scenes involving the court painter are dead wood), it avoids the absurdities that inevitably turn up in DeMille's films and, indeed, in most costume pictures set in a distant era.

Paulette Goddard was one of the most charming and delightful actresses on the screen (and, needless to say, a real hottie) and I'm happy to report that she carries off the part of Lucrezia quite well, aided by some very judicious camera placement by Leisen. (We are also given revealing glimpses of her lovely bosom.) The part of the Duke of Ferrara is played by the seriously miscast John Lund, who often tries to cope by affecting an air of amused sophistication a la William Powell. But where Powell always looked like he was having fun, with Lund it's just to compensate for how uncomfortable he feels in the part. Unforgivably, he throws away the script's best double-entendre: "All the same, I should like to show you my Big Jupiter when next you visit our little Ferrara." (Imagine what Powell or Cary Grant would have done with that line!)

Macdonald Carey is far from ideal as Cesare Borgia but reasonably effective in the part and certainly makes Cesare's lust for his sister believable (not hard to do if your sister is Paulette!). He is too suburban-earnest to give the part the conviction it requires. He is overshadowed by Raymond Burr as his henchman, or "tool villain," Michelotto. Burr gives the film's strongest performance (though he overdoes the glowering and dies grimacing in hammy fashion) and one wishes he and Carey had switched roles. Burr's flamboyant costume must have been a favorite of Leisen's; he's given plenty of opportunity, too much maybe, to stride about displaying it.

Leisen's direction displays the care, taste and tact he brought to all his films. Perhaps the best scene, certainly the most Leisen-like, is the one where Lucrezia teasingly refuses to sleep with her new husband (Lund) on their wedding night, giving Paulette a chance to display her talent as a sexy light comedienne. In her more serious love-and-scheming scenes, Leisen uses some carefully composed Hitchcock-like shots with Goddard's face partly concealed, emphasizing her flashing, devilish eyes. When we get to the actual use of the cannon ("Big Jupiter") by the Duke of Ferrara to counter the assault by Cesare's troops, Leisen stages impressive battle scenes, though devotees of the rough and tumble action cinema of William Witney and Phil Karlson might complain that too many of the shots look too obviously "designed" to capture the frenzy and confusion of war.

It is now fashionable to discuss movies made under the strictures of the Code in terms of hidden sexual subtexts. Much as I deplore this tendency, I will indulge in by pointing out three such "subtexts."

Leisen stages the brutal strangling of Lucrezia's first husband, the Prince, by the False Physician in a way that emphasizes the feeling of orgasmic release he feels. Hitchcock had a similar moment in the opening scene of Rope but Leisen makes it even more emphatic. One caveat: the Prince's chamber is so overstuffed with decor as to be distracting, an error Hitch would never have allowed.

The fadeout at 25.30 implies that Cesare, after getting Lucrezia excited at the prospect of poisoning the Duke of Ferrara and getting her in a near-frenzy thinking about "righteous revenge," they were in such a state that they must have had sex right then and there.

Finally, then Lucrezia, overcome with curiousity, ventures down into the dank cellar where the highly secret Big Jupiter is stashed, from her POV the camera slowly travels the length of the hugh phallic cannon and then we see the awestruck Paulette's eyes bugging out hilariously--a proto-Frank Tashlin moment that some might well think the highlight of the movie!

I suspect that if censorship had permitted, Leisen would have liked to dissolve from Paulette daydreaming of orgasmic bliss to Big Jupiter firing off one mighty blast in battle--an effect achieved with unabashed bluntness 11 years later in Karlson's Hell to Eternity.

To anyone not turned off by costume pictures and the expected period mannerisms, I recommend this film highly.