The twisted world of Pre-Code cinema, where anything went
Here's an obscure Miriam Hopkins film which has been neglected and forgotten. A sterling example of the "anything goes" attitude of early talkies, The World and the Flesh focuses on the Russian Revolution, lending the bloody proceedings a healthy dose of Paramount Glamour.
Miriam plays Maria, a member of the fading aristocratic set, on the run from the increasingly powerful communists. The film opens with the aristocrats hiding out on a freight train, smuggling themselves into one of the few remaining strongholds of the old empire. The communists are everywhere and will kill these aristocrats with pleasure; nerves are frayed and tension runs high. We soon learn that Maria has only recently come into this life of luxury; she was a famous dancer who started out from poverty, acquiring high-society patrons along the way. Now she's one of "them," a fertile prospect for the poverty-class-championing communists who instead associates herself with the rich.
The aristocrats find a safe haven and promptly resume their luxurious lifestyle, dining in high class, bejeweled, attended by servants. Enter Kylenko (George Bancroft) and his communist mini-navy. They storm the palace, smash up things, take everyone prisoner. Maria shows her stuff by refusing to acknowledge them; while the commies wreck the party, Maria insists that the aristocrats keep dancing as if nothing's amiss – and when they won't, she forces her partner to dance with her! One thing I love about classic cinema is how characters are defined in such economical ways – and Miriam Hopkins of course excels as a fiery, strong-willed type. You want to dance with her, despite the armed commies about.
The film continues on as a sort of tables-turned, then turned-again affair: first Maria and her aristocratic pals are the prisoners, then Kylenko and his commies are the prisoners, and etc. This allows director Cromwell to work up the suspense and also enables a lot of tension-filled, character-driven material. But this is also where trouble sets in. For Kylenko is the one who reveals that Maria was once part of the working class, that in truth she should be on the side of the communists
and that if she would give herself to him, he would set her free. So we have Maria trying to capitalize on this for the benefit of her fellow prisoners, going up to Kylenko's cabin to spend the night, under the pretense of suddenly being in love with him. And guess what happens?
Really, this movie's a sort of Bolshevik Rape Fantasy. Much like the Myrna Loy/Raymond Novarro Pre-Coder "The Barbarian," a movie in which "barbarian" Novarro abducted innocent white girl Myrna Loy, turning her into his own private sex toy
and she liked it. It's the same sort of thing here – for after a night of good lovin' Miriam's character falls head-over-heels for her erstwhile rapist. Indeed she's ready to cast aside her aristocratic life for him
this murdering, obnoxious, commie rapist. Truly, they don't make 'em like THIS anymore.
The late-developing romance sours the entire film. Miriam and Bancroft make for an unseemly pair, the bearlike Bancroft towering over the posh Miriam. This of course reinforces the image of Bancroft's Kylenko as a rough sailor sort, but it only serves to make the romantic stuff all the more ridiculous. And the ending
Maria carried off on Kylenko's stout arms, all smiles and tears of joy
are we supposed to NOT ask what happened to her aristocratic friends, with whom we saw her in every preceding sequence? Aristocratic friends which included women and children, all of whom had been placed on death row by the communists?
Production values are strong. Paramount's my favorite of the old studios and here they deliver their patented Continental charm. Russian cities are rebuilt in glorious artificiality; in the opening scenes we get a lot of tracking shots through city streets. John Cromwell directs with finesse, playing up the suspense and action. In fact this is a rare Pre-Code with genuine action scenes: lots of shootouts and fistfights. The soundtrack's not as silent as most early talkies, with a bit of a score playing at times. All in all, despite the bad taste the romantic angle leaves, this film deserves to be resuscitated – it would make a good candidate for the next "Pre-Code Hollywood" DVD collection.