The Gay Desperado

This film is one of the hidden gems of the 1930's Hollywood studio system. It is a wonderful operetta buffo, a delightful parody of all those Mexican bandito westerns and American gangster films of the early decade. The Mexican stereotypes are a bit painful but they are deliberately exaggerated for this comedy about a Mexican bandit who wants to learn real outlaw lessons from the American gangsters seen on the movie screen. The in-joke is that when we finally do meet those gangster, led by perennial heavy Stanley Fields, he is surrounded by other racketeers that look and act exactly like Edward G. Robinson and George Raft. And that is only one of the numerous little in-jokes in this film. Director Mamoulian's visual style and camera, his use of set-ups and shadows, of bandits riding against the evening sky, is so remarkable that the New York Film Critics gave him the Best Director Award for 1937. The script is witty and as fast paced as any Howard Hawks, especially the inter-play between Carrillo and Harold Huber in what must be his best Hollywood role. He and Mischa Auer as a mute Spanish Indian are delightfully. A real gem produced by Mary Pickford's United Artist company.

While watching this delightful farce, I was surprised to notice that Leo ("Braganza") Carillo's leather cuffs are each decoratively studded with a large swastika. This is, of course, a ubiquitous ancient sacred symbol which had only positive connotations before the Nazis appropriated it, but by the time this movie was made, it certainly had political implications. Was costume designer Omar Kiam merely employing a local graphic motif, or was he slipping in a pro-fascist symbol in the same way that SubGenius sympathizers placed the face of J.R. "Bob" Dobbs almost unnoticeably in the background of David Letterman's and Pee Wee Herman's original stage sets?

This movie is funny whenever Leo Carillo and Herbert Huber are together onscreen. Interesting to hear Ida Lupino before she completely lost her British accent. Mischa Auer has a subdued role--that was a disappointment. Note that Butch and his gang is made up of Hollywood gangster-actor look-alikes.

This is an excellent film for all the reasons cited in other reviews. However, it is interesting to note that the film could also be interpreted as a social critique of what might be seen as materialism or American values. By so exaggerating all the characters to the point of absurdity, Mamoulian creates a space where this sort of critique can "pass" as zany humor. Yet notice that the Mexican "bandidos" are the only honorable people in the whole film; they live by a code of honor whereas neither the American gangsters NOR the American lawmen could care less what is right and wrong. Also, the American tycoon's son who gets kidnapped is a despicable human being and a spoiled brat - he assumes his daddy's money can buy him out of any trouble and cannot conceive that some things have no price. Finally, the bandidos defend not only the concept of honor and giving one's word, but they also celebrate the inherent value and beauty of art (music). In short, this reviewer believes there is a lot more to this movie than might first be apparent.

If "Love Me Tonight" is "the musical for people who don't like musicals", it has to be said that "The Gay Desperado" is definitely not a musical for people who don't like opera. In fact -- despite apparently being based on a comic operetta -- it is not really a musical at all but a spoof bandit story with interpolated unrelated arias to show off the voice of one character; and what a voice it is.

Nino Martini, as the young singer Chivo who joins the bandit troop to get a spot on the radio (no, the plot doesn't make a lot more sense later on either...), has a glorious golden tenor whose style hasn't dated a day since the era when it was recorded. The trillings and warblings of some of his musical contemporaries belong to a bygone fashion, but it's very easy to picture Chivo belting out "Nessun Dorma" to a World Cup crowd and topping the charts in the process. Unfortunately, while he has an engaging grin and a decent dramatic range, he is completely incapable of acting and singing at the same time. The result is that the otherwise rapid-paced film grinds to a shuddering halt every time Chivo lays his hand on his breast and starts to declaim, and the viewer's tolerance of the result is likely to depend on his appreciation of operatic performance.

Aside from this drawback, the film is an enjoyable broad-brush satire on Hollywood conventions and the Mexican bandit stereotype in particular, which achieves the vital goal of all such spoofs in making its characters engaging enough in their own right to hold the viewer's interest when the joke would otherwise have grown stale. The bandit chief and his sidekick have the traditional double-act relationship, there is an enigmatic peon with a carved-teak face, and a spirited heroine (a young Ida Lupino) who performs the generic "you say you hate me but you love me really" routine with a refreshing twist.

Overall the film is entertaining and pretty funny, and I feel I did get my money's-worth -- but it can't be denied that the musical interludes, while admirable in their own way, introduce severe pacing problems.