The Snows of Kilimanjaro

Having saved a young man from a hippo, writer Harry Street lies dying from an infection in his African safari campsite. As his unappreciated wife Helen tends to his wounds and ensures him everything will be alright, Harry sinks into feverish reminiscing about a life that he perceives as being a failure in terms of both writing and his love life. He recalls the one woman that he believes he truly loved which, helpfully for Helen, isn't his current wife but a woman called Cynthia Green whom he met in Paris. The more he recalls the deeper his depression and the more Helen watches him surrendering his fight and will to live.

Taking a "deathbed" flashback structure we always know that things between Harry and his other loves didn't work out and the only question is "why". On paper we are meant to be with a bitter angry man who is facing death with a superficial devil-may-care attitude but underneath carries a deep sense of regret. The first problem I encountered with the film was that the script didn't carry this off very well at all and I wasn't convinced about the supposed years of failure that are stacked on top of Harry – people with such things have much more baggage than came out here. The flashbacks are reasonable interesting but are closer to melodrama than a searing tale of regret and loss, which personally I thought it should have been. The film does flit around the world which must have been a selling point for it at the time of release but it doesn't actually add much to the story or characters other than providing a different background for some scenes.

King's direction is fairly workmanlike; he enjoys the locations but the mix of his footage with stock footage doesn't sit well together – I know it is a limitation of the period but it still doesn't work. Peck is solid enough in the lead but he does the superficial things and doesn't get to grips with anything deeper or more complex. He gets no help from Hayward who is watching her husband long for women past but never appears to have any problem with this whatsoever. Gardner is pretty but again she doesn't convince in her character when asked to do anything more (seeing her in the middle of the Spanish civil war was pretty funny as well). Support from Leo G Carroll is always welcome but he doesn't have much to work with here.

Overall this is a so-so film that never fulfils its potential or is as engaging as it should have been. Instead of being complex and full of pain it is melodramatic and soapy; instead of being about the tragic souls of the characters it seems to have as much interest in stock footage and global locations. The cast give solid but superficial performances in response to this and the film never really gets a handle on any of it.

I usually like old films and the title and cast of this one seemed a good bet. What a disappointment. Peck is grossly miscast - he's just not the gigolo he's portrayed, nor does he look like a man who's dying. Nor does 'Cynthia Green' convince me, even the name is too boring for the beautiful Ava Gardner. And the 'hunting' scene - sorry, standing in front of somebody else's adventure backdrop is again unconvincing as are the actual rhino shots, another time another place. The whole script is endlessly boring and I can't wait to get rid of it to the charity shop where I found it. And the 'Africans' - who are they kidding? 'What's he gonna do, sprinkle me with monkey dust?" Oh Lord, somebody please put him out of his misery and dismantle the set. The 'natives' did try to sound as though they'd learned their lines and that unconvincing chant with the luckless rhino head on a stretcher PULEASE! i don't know how painful gangrene is but Peck sure is bearing up well considering he only had his bandage changed but once and did he utter a sound when Hayward lanced the horrid green swelling? Nope, just looked his normal handsome self. Perhaps Humphrey Bogart might have managed this ponderously awful script better..but even he can't do miracles. The only one who deserved an Oscar was the hyena sniffing around the tent with a view to his next meal.

Director Henry King is what keeps this movie from getting 10 stars. Yet, despite his poor cinematography, poor directing and failure to take advantage of scenic backdrops (yet they shine through occasionally), the cast and the story save the film.

Peck portrays former Chicago Times journalist Harry Street, a fictional character penned by Ernest Hemmingway, portraying a strong glimpse himself . . . a bit ego-centric while feigning humility and modesty. Peck is superb at bringing Harry Street to life . . . and Hemmingway is always looming in the background of Street's character, like a phantom . . . the boozing womanizer, masking his insecurities with alcohol, egotism, aloofness toward other's feelings and needs. The beautiful, sexy, gorgeous Ava Gardner, one of the VERY few Hollywood starlets who could actually act, gives an excellent performance as the emotionally insecure, very dependent, sexually charged, less than moral, love of his life. Co-dependency could have been based on her character, Cynthia Green. Cynthia was too insecure to let Street live his life . . . Street was too self-centered and aloof to recognize Cynthia's emotional needs . . . very Hemmingway!

As he lay delirious on a bed in Africa, from a thorn scratch infection, snow covered Mt. Kilimanjaro looming in the background, Street recalls the lost loves of his past years, with Cynthia dominating his memories, as his one true love. His current wife, Helen, portrayed by Susan Hayward, tries desperately to find her place in his life, always feeling herself in the shadow of Cynthia and a later love, Countess Liz, played by Hildegard Neff, a selfish and insecure socialite, desperate to hang onto Street. Feverishly, Street flows in and out of consciousness, the scenes from his memories playing out in his mind, as Helen compassionately wipes his sweaty brow and tries to care for him, as he pushes her away.

This is a good film! Hemmingway fans should receive it well, as should fans of Peck and Gardner.

I saw this as a kid and thought it was an OK adventure movie. But seeing it again in middle age just blew me away. It really is the story of a man's life: looking back on lost opportunities, failed loves, and (as it's so beautifully described in the script) "losing the scent" in your life's direction. Gardner is mesmerizing; Hayward is dynamic. The Bernard Herrman score hits the mark again. And the set decoration and cinematography are superlative examples of the studio system at its most artistic.

Of course, the fact that jazz immortal Benny Carter plays tenor sax during a Paris party scene adds an enormous amount of cool points to this movie for me!

Gregory Peck leads an all-star cast in "The Snows of Kilimanjaro," a big 1952 film directed by Henry King and produced by Darryl F. Zanuck. With a cast that includes Ava Gardner, Susan Hayward, Hildegarde Neff and Leo J. Carroll, and a story based on a story by Ernest Hemingway, one expects something more - much more - than what is delivered by this plodding film.

Peck plays a writer with a severe leg infection. As he lays in Africa waiting for a transport while his wife (Hayward) cares for him, he believes he's dying. He goes over his past life and loves - a girl he disappoints in his youth, then Cynthia (Gardner) the love of his life, followed by Neff, and Hayward, whom he mistakes for Cynthia when he first meets her.

Henry King mixes some beautiful scenery with stock footage of Africa. Since it's Hemingway, the movie has a macho sensibility - a lot of hunting, drinking, implied sex, and a bullfight. It's only in the last couple of scenes that the film's energy picks up - but by then, it's too late. The performances are okay - strangely, Gardner's character seems the most fleshed out. That isn't saying much - one gets the impression a lot was cut, leaving holes in characterizations and the viewer completely detached from them. Altogether, a disappointing experience.