Flint (Walter Huston) is a grizzled, twisted paraplegic holed up in the African jungle where he lords it over a tribe that mistakes his cheap vaudeville magic tricks for supernatural powers and provide him a living by running trade missions from which he profits handsomely. He also controls the whole area for miles around due to some sort of ill-explained mumbo-jumbo involving a magical circle called "ju-ju" which dooms anyone who dares to trespass. But his main focus in life is to lure, trap and wreak vengeance on Gregg, a rival who once upon a time fought him, kicked him in the spine and paralyzed him below the waist. Through plot machinations too complicated to detail, Flint manages to entrap Gregg's innocent daughter (Virginia Bruce), subject her to physical and psychological torture, then lure the father to the scene of the crime, where he hopes to revel in the man's despair before doing away with both father and daughter. To keep his mind focused during the long years of planning of this feat he marks off the passing months on a crude homemade calendar emblazoned with the words "he sneered," which keep fresh the memory of the facial expression of his nemesis after the paralyzing kick.
All the while he hangs out with two cronies and a vivacious Portuguese girl (Lupe Velez at her most engaging) who seems to be in a constant state of heat. They are surrounded by strapping black natives who obey orders in return for occasional cubes of sugar which has the same effect on them as a biscuit to a dog. Everyone glistens with perspiration.
The outrages he perpetrates against the captured Virginia Bruce are evidently so horrid that the film doesn't even show them. One moment we see her as a prim young lady preparing to venture out of the convent and the next time we see her she is a fever-crazed basket case who apparently lives on brandy. The contrast is so stark and sudden that for a while it's not clear that we are still watching the same actress. Into this bizarre setup staggers Conrad Nagel as a doctor who has become addicted to a local intoxicating root. Huston breaks the doctor's addiction by piercing his torso with a knife and then tying him to a log in a swamp so that leeches can suck the poison from his system, then having sobered him, enlists his services to perform surgery to stop the pain from his spinal injury. And on and on it goes, as overstuffed a scenario as one is likely to see.
Huston also played this role in the original Broadway stage version of this piece in 1926 and clearly has an actor's field day, dragging his limp limbs across the stage, hoisting himself into a wheelchair, scowling with his scarred face and permanently squinting eyes and breaking into demented peals of laughter as he abuses poor Virginia Bruce. It would be hard to find any other early 30s film in which a young, attractive female is allowed to look so messed up for so long. There is something startlingly modern in the way her long, gnarled blonde hair falls loosely over her shoulders. The only signs of makeup on her face are the sometimes obviously drawn-in naso-labial creases and under-eye bags that are supposed to indicate exhaustion and dissipation. She tries hard to give a good performance and often succeeds. There are some lovely moments between her and Conrad Nagel as they realize they are falling in love. Nagel also gives his best and manages to squeeze charm and gallantry out of a role that might have been written for Dwight Frye at his weirdest.
In sum, the persuasiveness of the plot is only medium. The impact comes from the exotic setting, the outlandishness of the goings-on and the insane intensity of the central character. It has more the feel of a talky thriller than an engrossing dramatic narrative. This is one of two stylish 1932 films in which Huston plays a fanatic in the tropics, the other being Rain. Despite the problems, it really should be seen to be believed.
All the while he hangs out with two cronies and a vivacious Portuguese girl (Lupe Velez at her most engaging) who seems to be in a constant state of heat. They are surrounded by strapping black natives who obey orders in return for occasional cubes of sugar which has the same effect on them as a biscuit to a dog. Everyone glistens with perspiration.
The outrages he perpetrates against the captured Virginia Bruce are evidently so horrid that the film doesn't even show them. One moment we see her as a prim young lady preparing to venture out of the convent and the next time we see her she is a fever-crazed basket case who apparently lives on brandy. The contrast is so stark and sudden that for a while it's not clear that we are still watching the same actress. Into this bizarre setup staggers Conrad Nagel as a doctor who has become addicted to a local intoxicating root. Huston breaks the doctor's addiction by piercing his torso with a knife and then tying him to a log in a swamp so that leeches can suck the poison from his system, then having sobered him, enlists his services to perform surgery to stop the pain from his spinal injury. And on and on it goes, as overstuffed a scenario as one is likely to see.
Huston also played this role in the original Broadway stage version of this piece in 1926 and clearly has an actor's field day, dragging his limp limbs across the stage, hoisting himself into a wheelchair, scowling with his scarred face and permanently squinting eyes and breaking into demented peals of laughter as he abuses poor Virginia Bruce. It would be hard to find any other early 30s film in which a young, attractive female is allowed to look so messed up for so long. There is something startlingly modern in the way her long, gnarled blonde hair falls loosely over her shoulders. The only signs of makeup on her face are the sometimes obviously drawn-in naso-labial creases and under-eye bags that are supposed to indicate exhaustion and dissipation. She tries hard to give a good performance and often succeeds. There are some lovely moments between her and Conrad Nagel as they realize they are falling in love. Nagel also gives his best and manages to squeeze charm and gallantry out of a role that might have been written for Dwight Frye at his weirdest.
In sum, the persuasiveness of the plot is only medium. The impact comes from the exotic setting, the outlandishness of the goings-on and the insane intensity of the central character. It has more the feel of a talky thriller than an engrossing dramatic narrative. This is one of two stylish 1932 films in which Huston plays a fanatic in the tropics, the other being Rain. Despite the problems, it really should be seen to be believed.