An enjoyably lunatic film, from a revered director. Somehow an amateur opera singer gets entangled with a chaotic group of Mexican bandits, just as they decide to modernise their operation and turn themselves into American-style gangsters.
The director left his mark with some classy desert photography, and engineers some hilarious set pieces. Highlights include the hi-jacking of a radio show during a girl group's rendition of 'Lookie Lookie Lookie, Here Comes Cookie' (they continue to perform with their hands up), a bungled firing squad, Nino Martini underneath the world's largest sombrero, Martini singing in handcuffs, and the entire gang guarding Ida Lupino. Mischa Auer shows his expertise at quirky roles as Diego, totally silent save for a single line, the longest in the film, where he becomes the gang's conscience. The interplay between Leo Carrillo's eternal optimist, and Harold Huber's pessimistic second in command is great.
Martini's performance is engaging, and he's not afraid to laugh at himself, but his English is too poor for the film to come over properly. It is never explained why Mexican bandits, and indeed Mexicans generally, are so enraptured by Italian opera. It also drags a little - it might easily have ended before Stanley Fields' gang of Robinson and Raft lookalikes even appear.
The film is undeniably minor, and the beginning of Mamoulian's decline - it is certainly can't compare with Becky Sharp or Queen Christina. It has some of the candy floss feel of Love Me Tonight, but none of that film's subtlety and far less wit. But it's got a nice feel to it.
Not that I have tried hard, but it's difficult to get any information on the girl group, who reappear later on the radio. They deserve to be remembered.
